http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2016/nov/10/a-fallen-warrior-known-but-to-god/A fallen warrior, known but to GodOfficial Washington turned out on Nov. 11, 1921 at the tomb of the first of the Unknown Soldiers
By Thomas V. DiBacco
Thursday, November 10, 2016
The most memorable ceremony for fallen veterans occurred at Arlington National Cemetery on Friday, Nov. 11, 1921. In what is now called Veterans Day, the Armistice Day that marked three years after the end of World War I had been chosen as the burial date of the nation’s Unknown Soldier. Numerous foreign dignitaries, in addition to all Washington officialdom, arrived for the dedication, and 90,000 viewed the plain black coffin of the unidentified American serviceman as it lay in state in the Capitol rotunda on November 10. A three-hour cortege from the Capitol to Arlington National Cemetery saw Washington streets inundated with crowds.
But it had been an even longer journey for the Unknown Soldier. Three weeks before the dedication ceremonies for what would be called the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, four unnamed soldiers buried in American cemeteries in France were exhumed, and one was chosen randomly by a decorated, wounded American to represent all his unidentified comrades. His body was brought home aboard the USS Olympia with an honor guard of eight French ships. And some soil was taken from France to place in the grave to symbolize the earth on which he died.
“Never before, perhaps, has there been such a gathering as assembled on the hills of the national cemetery overlooking Washington,” read an account of the assemblage. “While only a small portion who came to do honor to the Unknown could be accommodated within the enclave … the vast multitude … followed the memorial ceremonies by means of the telephone amplifier, which impressively and with wonderful distinctness reproduced the addresses.”
Crowds in distant cities also heard the messages of the dignitaries. In New York, 25,000 gathered in Madison Square Garden to hear the speeches, And at precisely noon for two minutes everything — buses, train, pedestrians — came to a stop. According to one observer, “New York paused in the million occupations of the greatest city and heeded the sacrifice of the dead.”
As far away as San Francisco, some 10,000 in the Civic Auditorium heard the dedication addresses, so amazed at the clarity of the new communication that they thought the speakers, in the words of one overwhelmed attendee, “would step forward” in their midst.
The main address of President Warren G. Harding, climaxed by the call to the audience to join in reciting the Lord’s Prayer, would not receive the serious attention of historians. But it should because many Americans came to the Arlington site because the 29th president represented a return to the national hopefulness for a war-weary citizenry. Recall that Harding’s popular vote in 1920 (60.2 percent) was the largest recorded to that date. And his first executive order, opening the White House gates after closure during the war, added to his popular acceptance. Then there was Harding’s speaking ability and flair for the right word for the occasion. By the silent, but often tearful reaction of his Armistice Day audience, Harding’s address was moving — so much so that Associated Press writer Kirke L. Simpson won a Pulitzer Prize for his account of the ceremonies.
“Mr. Secretary of War and Ladies and Gentlemen:” began the president. “we are met today to pay the impersonal tribute. The name of him whose body lies before us took flight with his imperishable soul. We know not whence he came, but only that his death marks him with the everlasting glory of an American dying for his country … He might have come from any one of millions of American homes. Some mother gave him in her love and tenderness, and with him her most cherished hopes. Hundreds of mothers are wondering today, finding a torch of solace in the possibility that the nation bows in grief over the body of one she bore to live and die, if need be, for the Republic.”
“Standing today on hallowed ground, conscious that all America has halted to share in the tribute of heart and mind and soul to this fellow American, … it is fitting to say that his sacrifice, and that of the millions dead, shall not be in vain.”
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• Thomas V. DiBacco is professor emeritus at American University.
