The gathering sat sheltered beneath a tent of camouflage netting.
The horns of the 300th Army band pealed patriotic marches.
Fallen veterans and those still with us were celebrated and saluted — by word and by ceremony — for their supreme sacrifices in defense of our 50 united states.
Yet my attention kept swerving back to the memorial's concrete pergola.
On its colonnades flew the five flags of the 5 branches of the armed forces -- Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines and Coast Guard. Perched center within it was a haunting bronze sculpture of the Soldier's Cross, a pair of empty boots with an infantryman's rifle grounded muzzle down by bayonet and topped by a fallen soldier's helmet.
And I thought of my father-in-law, Edmund A. Jachacz, a decorated World War II hero, in the final days of his long battle with cancer.
Eddie served as a Flight Officer in the Air Force from 1942 to 1946.
From the remote Pacific Island of Tinian, he flew 14 bombing raids over Japan in the vaunted B-29 Super Fortress.
"Sentimental Journey" and "Miss Patches" were his aircraft. As he prepared for what would be his final mission, a B-29 named the "Enola Gay" arrived on Tinian and was immediately squired into a secluded hangar. He knew not what for.
Hours later and thousands of feet over Japan, chaff tore through the fuselage of Eddie's plane, ripping through his shoulder and throat. His service was over. So was the war, soon after.
Eddie was later decorated with the Air Medal and the Purple Heart.
