Showing posts with label arlington national cemetery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label arlington national cemetery. Show all posts

Monday, May 26, 2014

Two Best Friends Side by Side at Arlington National Cemetery. Why?How? A Memorial Day Tribute






Travis's and Brendan's graves at Arlington National Cemetery.
Travis's and Brendan's graves at Arlington National Cemetery. (Tom Wolff for Parade)
When best friends Travis Manion and Brendan Looney died defending their country, their families honored their unbreakable bond in the most profound of ways: by laying them to rest side by side at Arlington National Cemetery. This week, Parade tells their story.
On Memorial Day 2004, Travis Manion, a newly commissioned Marine officer, went to cheer on his roommate and best friend, Brendan Looney, at the national lacrosse championship in Baltimore. It was an emotional afternoon. Three days earlier, both men had graduated from the United States Naval Academy, and now they expected to be deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan. “You will face many enormous challenges,” Air Force general Richard Myers, then chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, told their class. “You will go into harm’s way. The sacrifice, [which] you have learned by now, is part of the job description.”

Tom Manion
(Tom Manion)
Then, as today, we were a nation at war. That made Navy the sentimental favorite in the final against Syracuse University. Travis sat with his classmates. His parents sat with Brendan’s parents. Rain pounded the field as the lead flipped back and forth, with Navy’s fans chanting “U-S-A.” The teams were tied with five minutes to go. Then Syracuse pulled ahead and won, 14–13.
While most of Navy’s players hit the bars of nearby Annapolis, the two close friends—along with Brendan’s brother Steve and future wife Amy—retreated to a house that Travis’s parents owned near campus. Brendan and Travis weren’t the type of guys who talked openly about their feelings. But Brendan privately confessed how gloomy he felt about the loss, and Travis knew his buddy needed a boost. So he put on a cowboy hat and a camouflage poncho and cranked up a Michael Jackson tune. Looking ridiculous, he and Brendan’s brother began break-dancing in the kitchen.
“Brendan and I were laughing,” recalls Amy Looney. “Travis was putting on his extra charm. He was trying to do what he could to cheer up his best friend.” Everyone’s spirits rose until they were ready to join the rest of the team for a night of carousing in town.
Taking over the back of a downtown bar, they celebrated having made it to the national championship for the first time in decades—and, for the graduates among them, surviving the rigors of the Naval Academy. Though it was unspoken, they knew that much of their class would soon be going off to war. That night in Annapolis, remembers Amy, “was the last hurrah.”

Manion and Looney
Brendan (left) and Travis in 2004.
The friendship that formed at the Naval Academy between Brendan and Travis surprised nobody. Both were accomplished athletes: Travis wrestled and Brendan played football before switching to lacrosse. Both had wicked comic sides. And both loved their country and believed in sacrifice.
Brendan came from a large, close-knit Catholic family from Owings, Md. Of the six siblings, all three brothers attended the Naval Academy and even played on the lacrosse team at the same time. The oldest, Brendan was a hulk: 200 muscular pounds and “chiseled like a Greek god,” says Ben Mathews, who played football with him there. And driven, always, to excel. “He did not spend a whole lot of time talking about things. He spent most of [his] time trying to outplay and outmuscle everybody. Brendan never, ever wanted to look like he was outperformed.”
Travis grew up Catholic, too. His father, Tom Manion, a retired colonel, spent 30 years in the Marine Corps, and Travis and his older sister Ryan were born at Camp Lejeune, N.C. The family moved around before settling in Doylestown, Pa. Travis was a “warrior-poet,” says Mathews. He kept on his desk a box of note cards on which he copied inspirational lines. “There were quotes from books, quotes from movies, about teamwork and leadership.” When Mathews asked about the cards, Manion said, “I take a little bit of everything that I read and try to incorporate that in my life.”
Once Travis and Brendan became friends, they did almost everything together. Naval Academy roommates live in such cramped quarters, often they want to be apart during free time. Not Travis and Brendan. They spent weekends together at the Manions’ Annapolis house. Travis visited the Looneys for Thanksgiving, then described to his parents the happy cacophony of a large family dinner. Both sets of parents celebrated Brendan’s lacrosse victories at postgame tailgate parties. Travis even joined Brendan on some of his dates—as when Brendan took Amy to see the movie Mean Girls. Amy enjoyed listening to two grown men laugh through a chick flick: “They weren’t too cool to watch a girls’ movie,” she says.
The duo didn’t gush about their friendship. “Alpha males don’t talk about how close they are,” says classmate Brian Stann. But they gave nonverbal cues—like the way they’d break into simultaneous laughter even if no one had said anything funny.
They often expressed their bond through “japing,” or teasing. “Every time I walked into that room, some prank was going on,” Mathews says. Travis would good-naturedly taunt Brendan, for example, when his younger brothers outshone him on the lacrosse field. “Both were textbook ‘guy’s guys’: the ribbing, the constant making fun of each other,” Mathews says. “That’s the way they shared affection.”
And always they competed, whether in sports or playing video games. Just before Travis left for Marine officer training in Quantico, Va., a summer-afternoon bike ride turned into a frenzied race down a mountain trail that left another friend, a star lacrosse player, behind. (Brendan declared victory; Travis accused him of cheating.) Underneath the boyish competition, their loved ones saw something deeper: Each was tacitly encouraging the other to improve. “They pushed each other,” says Travis’s sister, Ryan Manion Borek. “When you look back, you see the development of them becoming men.”

Travis Manion
Travis in Fallujah in 2005.
The first to deploy was Travis. His first tour, which began in 2005 in Iraq, kept him mostly on the base. “He would get so frustrated,” says Stann. “He had all these friends from the Naval Academy taking casualties and getting wounded. He wanted to be a war fighter.”
Travis got his wish during his second tour, when he joined a team that helped train Iraqi fighters. Assigned to the insurgent hotbed of Fallujah, he crawled through rubble after a bombing to free two trapped Iraqi soldiers—and then,
10 days later, raced through chlorine gas to the roof of a crumbling barracks to relieve his fellow Marines after a chemical attack. “Travis was always willing to go to where the fire was most intense,” says Eric Greitens, who served with him.
In April 2007, while patrolling Fallujah’s Andaloos district, Travis’s U.S. team found themselves separated from their Iraqi allies and surrounded by the enemy. After two Marines were shot, Travis moved into harm’s way to draw fire away from the injured as they received treatment. As he loaded his grenade launcher, a sniper’s bullet pierced his side. His fellow Marines administered first aid but couldn’t save his life. He was 26.
Brendan was beginning Navy SEAL training in San Diego when he learned of Travis’s death. The task of breaking the news fell to classmate and fellow SEAL Rob Sarver. “Brendan walked away, interlaced his fingers in back of his head, and took a deep breath,” Sarver says. “He was overwhelmed with grief. When he got on my phone with his family and Amy, he was having trouble getting words out.”
Unable to attend Travis’s funeral, Brendan threw himself harder into his military preparation. “It suddenly became very defined for Brendan,” says Sarver. “It wasn’t just a four-mile run anymore, or a two-mile swim, or any of the physical or academic challenges that we had to go through during SEAL training. Everything was, ‘I’m doing this because I lost Travis.’ ”
Partway through his training, Amy visited Brendan in California. On their second night together, he knelt on the beach and proposed. “Life is short,” he said. “Just look at what happened to Trav. I don’t want us to have any regrets.” When they wed in July 2008, during a portrait session with his groomsmen, Brendan asked Tom Manion to stand in for his son.
Six months after Manion’s death, Brendan flew to Washington, D.C., to run the Marine Corps Marathon in his friend’s honor. Speaking at a banquet the night before, he called Travis “another brother to me” and told a story about a trip they took to Texas. His lip quivered and his voice cracked. By the end, he stopped trying to hold back the tears. “He was a great friend,” Brendan said. “I miss him.”

Courtesy of Clay Blackmore
Brendan and his wife, Amy, on their wedding day, July 12, 2008. (Courtesy of Clay Blackmore)
In June 2008, Brendan finished SEAL training. Two days after his wedding he was deployed to Iraq, then Afghanistan. He wore a bracelet bearing Travis’s name and tried to live up to his legacy. “I can’t think of anyone you’d want more next to you in a fight,” Sarver says.
In Afghanistan, Brendan was assigned to the Taliban stronghold of Zabul Province, where he went on 58 combat missions. His Bronze Medal citation describes four occasions when he faced “a blistering hail of rocket-propelled grenades and automatic weapons fire” and notes that Brendan’s leadership helped weaken the local insurgency.

Brendan Looney
Brendan in Afghanistan in 2010.
In September 2010, Brendan had one more mission: observing the village of Ayatalah from above as an operation was carried out. “Can’t wait to get home,” he wrote Amy. But en route to Ayatalah, his helicopter crashed, killing him and eight other service members.
As the reality of her husband’s death slowly sunk in, Amy was plagued by an insistent thought: Brendan needed to be reunited with Travis at Arlington National Cemetery. “I didn’t want Brendan to be alone,” she says.
Travis’s family had buried him near their Pennsylvania home. But he had once told his sister that he wanted to be buried in Arlington if he died in combat. “Amy is right,” Travis’s mother, Janet, told her husband. “We can bring Brendan and Travis back together.”

Obama Visiting Graves
President Obama visiting Travis's and Brendan's graves following his Memorial Day address on May 30, 2011.
And they did. On Sept. 27, three days before Brendan was laid to rest, Travis’s body was disinterred and moved 150 miles to Arlington National Cemetery. The following May, President Obama singled them out in his Memorial Day address. “The friendship between 1st Lt. Travis Manion and Lt. Brendan Looney reflects the meaning of Memorial Day,” he said during a visit to their graves. “Brotherhood. Sacrifice. Love of country.”
Today their relationship continues through their families. Amy works for the Travis Manion Foundation, which is run by Travis’s sister Ryan Manion Borek and helps returning vets acclimate to life back home through mentorship programs. The two women have become close. Travis’s mother died of lung cancer in 2012, but his father, Tom, sees Brendan’s parents several times a year. This month, a book coauthored by Tom about Travis and Brendan’s friendship was published. It is appropriately titled Brothers Forever.
Even today, friends and family have trouble grasping the fact that the two are gone. Still, they take comfort in knowing they will rest forever side by side. “I’m grateful,” says their classmate Mathews, “that these two guys, who challenged themselves and each other—now they can jape each other for eternity.”

Monday, December 16, 2013

WreathsAcrossAmerica-143,000 Wreaths Laid At Arlington Graves


ARLINGTON, Va. (AP) — Tens of thousands of wreaths made in Maine have been laid at graves at Arlington National Cemetery.
Trucks carrying about 143,000 balsam wreaths began rolling toward the Washington, D.C.-area cemetery Dec. 8. They arrived Saturday.
All told, the Columbia Falls-based nonprofit Wreaths Across America expects to ship more than 500,000 wreaths to adorn veterans' graves across the country and overseas this holiday season.
U.S. Sens. Susan Collins and Angus King of Maine say the Senate has passed a resolution designating Saturday as "Wreaths Across America Day."
The wreath-laying tradition began in 1992, when the owner of Worcester Wreath Co. ended up with extra wreaths and shipped them to Arlington.
Next year, for Arlington's 150th anniversary, the organization wants to place a wreath on every headstone — about 230,000 of them.

http://www.wreathsacrossamerica.org/
Remember | Honor | & Teach Our mission, Remember, Honor, Teach, is carried out in part by coordinating wreath laying ceremonies a specified Saturday inDecember at Arlington, as well as veterans’ cemeteries and other locations in all 50 states, ceremonies at sea, and 24 national cemeteries on foreign soil. - See more at: http://www.wreathsacrossamerica.org/#sthash.fY4obST6.dpuf

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Now The World Will Know: A Hero Soldier's Story


'Now the world will know': A hero soldier's story Joseph Crescenz touches his brother's headstone at Arlington National Cemetery. He remembers the day in 1970 he learned his brother, killed two years earlier, would be awarded the Medal of Honor. ROBERT MORAN / Staff GALLERY:

 'Now the world will know': A hero soldier's story

 Robert Moran, Inquirer Staff Writer POSTED: Sunday, September 15, 2013, 1:09 AM It was called a "fortress in the clouds." The 21st Regiment of the Second Division of the North Vietnamese Army had carved a stronghold into the steep slopes of Nui Chom, a mountain with rugged peaks covered by a towering jungle canopy that blocked the sky. There, the NVA had dug 250 machine-gun bunkers to defend a secret field hospital. On Nov. 20, 1968, Michael J. Crescenz of Philadelphia walked into an ambush on Nui Chom. His squad was pinned down when he made a snap decision to grab an M60 machine gun and charge the bunkers. He took out three, killing six enemy soldiers who may have been dumbstruck in their last seconds to see a lone American running into their fusillade of bullets. As he charged a fourth bunker, Crescenz, 19, was killed. For his heroism, he was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor. He is the only Philadelphian to receive the nation's highest military commendation during the Vietnam War. Only in recent years has Crescenz's courageous feat begun to receive greater public notice. When his name comes up, however, only the basic details of his biography usually get cited: West Oak Lane boy with five brothers. Cardinal Dougherty High School graduate. Engaged when he died. Memories have faded in the nearly 45 intervening years, but not for those closest to him. William "Doc" Stafford served with Crescenz in Vietnam. He was the last person to see him alive on Nui Chom. "I knew it that day that he was special," Stafford said. "His family knew it before. And now the world will know."     The Crescenz family lived in the 7400 block of Thouron Avenue and attended St. Athanasius Catholic Church. Charles Jr., a World War II veteran, worked in the beer-distribution business. His wife, Mary, was a homemaker. Together they raised six sons in their working-class corner of Northwest Philadelphia. The boys - in order of birth Charles, Michael, Peter, Joseph, Stephen, and Christopher - played stick ball, Wiffle Ball, half ball, wall ball, and step ball. "You played out in the streets from sunup to sundown," said Joe Crescenz. "It was a great neighborhood. It was a great growing-up." Mike Crescenz was tall and naturally strong. "He always had this presence around him," said Ronald Burke, one of his closest friends. "I don't know if it was because of his height or his overall demeanor. Everybody looked up to Mike as a leader." As teens, Crescenz and Burke played together in a basketball league at Simons Recreation Center in West Oak Lane. During a game against rivals they had struggled to beat in the past, one of the opposing point guards fouled Burke hard, knocking him to the ground. "It looked like a fight was going to ensue, and guess who stepped in, almost like a guardian angel," Burke said. "He wasn't my big brother, but that day he was my big brother, and probably saved me from getting my head beat in," Burke said. And they won the game. Mike and his brother Charles were talented athletes. They played varsity baseball at Cardinal Dougherty. "Charlie was more of a quiet sort of guy," Joe said. "He let his playing do his talking." Mike "was more of a slam-bang, you know, power kind of person," Joe said. "Mike had a different type of athleticism, and his personality fit that." Blessed with a movie-star smile, he also was popular with girls. "That took him away from us other schmucks hanging out at the schoolyard," said James Engler, another close friend. "He just seemed to have a confidence," Engler said. "He didn't doubt himself." He also didn't back down in a fight. One brawl stands out. At Simons Rec, Crescenz had a confrontation with two brothers, Engler said. "I knew Mike was tougher than them, but I didn't think he could beat both of them up. And he did," Engler said. It wasn't just Mike. Charles, who later became a New Jersey state trooper, also was a protector. "They were there for you, you know. Something happened in the neighborhood, the older brothers were there. They had your back," Joe Crescenz said. "Maybe Mom and Dad instilled that into them. I don't know." Crescenz graduated from Cardinal Dougherty in 1966. He went to work for a company called L.B. Smith in Plymouth Meeting and began to learn welding. Meanwhile, his brother Charles enlisted in the Marines and was shipped off to Vietnam. In February 1968, Crescenz enlisted in the Army. "He seemed anxious to do it," Burke said. Attitudes had already begun to shift against war. When Mike signed up, the Tet Offensive was at its height. On Feb. 27 during the evening news, Walter Cronkite raised serious doubts about whether the United States could prevail in Vietnam. If Crescenz had any regrets about his decision, he revealed none to his friends. "He didn't show any trepidation or concerns about going to Vietnam," Engler said. He got engaged to a girl named Christine. "Mike wanted to get married before he shipped out," Joe Crescenz said. His grandfather persuaded him to wait until he got home.     Crescenz arrived in Vietnam in September 1968 and was assigned as a rifleman to Alpha Company, Fourth Battalion, 31st Infantry, 196th Infantry Brigade, Americal Division. During a preinduction medical exam, the 6-foot-tall Crescenz weighed 187 pounds. He bulked up after basic training at Fort Bragg, N.C., and Army Infantry School at Fort Benning, Ga. "I remember he was a big guy. He was 200 pounds plus, I think," said "Doc" Stafford, a platoon medic with Alpha Company. "I remember he was engaged. He was so excited about that," Stafford said. "He was very family-oriented. He was proud to be from Philadelphia." In a letter home that was summarized in a neighborhood newspaper after his death, Crescenz complained about President Lyndon B. Johnson's decision to halt bombing in North Vietnam just before the 1968 election. Joe Crescenz recalled that his brother wrote about being physically exhausted from the grueling daily patrols. The letter has since been lost. In mid-November, Crescenz's battalion was on the hunt for the North Vietnamese Army, which was suspected to be operating in and around Nui Chom near the village of Hiep Duc, southwest of Da Nang in the northern part of South Vietnam. Robert L. "Sam" Wetzel, 82, now a retired lieutenant general and living in Georgia, led the search-and-destroy missions against the North Vietnamese. Nui Chom - nui being the Vietnamese word for mountain - was more than 3,000 feet high. It was treacherous because of the terrain: thick jungle and precipitous slopes. In some places, the soldiers had to crawl hand over hand. "It was inch by inch up this slippery mountain," said Wetzel, the battalion commander who at the time was a lieutenant colonel. On Nov. 17, first contact was made by Delta Company on the left flank of what would be a three-pronged attack up Nui Chom. Alpha Company was ordered to join Delta. The battle lasted six days, Wetzel said, and the U.S. forces in the end prevailed. The troops were aided by a bone-rattling barrage of artillery, mortars, air strikes, and even the Battleship New Jersey firing from the South China Sea. In 1968, Sgt. George Hawkins wrote accounts of the battle soon afterward for two Americal Division publications, and he described the NVA base on Nui Chom as "their high-peaked fortress in the clouds."     A light rain fell on Nui Chom on the morning of Nov. 20. "Monsoon clouds moved in, and the peaks of the mountains were shrouded in gray mist," Hawkins wrote. Crescenz's squad walked point, the lead position. If anything bad was lurking ahead, his squad would face it first. Each man was about three yards behind the man ahead, said Jack Bisbee, who served with Crescenz in the same squad. Bisbee recalled being eighth or ninth on the line. Crescenz was probably about 20 yards ahead, but Bisbee could not see him because of the dense jungle. Then "all hell broke loose," Bisbee said. Machine-gun fire erupted in front of the squad and from the left, Bisbee said. At least two soldiers were hit. The squad was in danger of getting wiped out. "The perfect ambush," Bisbee said. Crescenz picked up an M60 machine gun and charged the length of a football field up the slope of the mountain. The Medal of Honor recommendation signed by Wetzel describes what happened next: He assaulted the first enemy bunker and succeeded in killing the two NVA firing from that position. He then assaulted the second bunker while dodging a hail of bullets. He entered the second bunker killing two more NVA. Courageously, PFC Crescenz still moved forward. Machine gun fire hit all around him as he resolutely continued up the hill, firing his M-60 machine gun. He succeeded in silencing the third bunker and killing two more of the enemy. During the ambush, Stafford was called up to aid one of the wounded. "I got down there. I treated the guy, and I was trying to bring him back. I couldn't get back," said Stafford, now 64 and living on Long Island. "The fire intensified so much that there was no way I was going to get back. If I stood up I wasn't going to be around, so I stayed down," he said. "I noticed close by there were bunkers, enemy bunkers there. I dragged the guy into the bunker so we were out of the line of fire pretty much," he said. "I pulled him out again and tried to bring him back up and that's when Michael showed up," Stafford recalled. "Michael said, 'No problem,' he'll take care of it. "He was cool, calm, and collected, that's for sure. "There was no fear in the voice. He wasn't wavering. "I could hear him behind me. He had an M60 machine gun. He was shooting the machine gun. He stepped forward in front of me, and, as he did, they opened fire. Five U.S. troops would die during the battle, Crescenz among them. But the count almost certainly could have been higher. "He took a bullet that might've been mine," said Stafford. "He definitely saved my life."     About 7 a.m. Saturday, Nov. 23, there was a knock on the door at the Crescenz house on Thouron Avenue. "My dad was upstairs shaving in the bathroom, getting ready for work," said Joe Crescenz, now 57 and living in Chester County. His mother was making breakfast. Joe, then 12, opened the door. "Sir, can I help you?" he asked. "Is this the Crescenz residence?" the visitor in the Army uniform inquired. The man asked to speak to Joe's parents. "Who the hell is bothering us at this time in the morning?" Joe's father, Charles, yelled from upstairs. "I said, 'Dad, it's somebody from the Army.' "You could hear the frying pan drop on the kitchen floor." Crescenz's death was duly noted in local newspapers, but there were no details. His brother Charles, who served in Vietnam as a Marine, was quoted at the time in The Inquirer: "I kept hoping he would be as fortunate as I was." It was a bitterly cold December day when Crescenz was buried at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Cheltenham. As soldiers fired volleys in a final salute, wind-driven flurries swirled around huddled groups of mourners. Afterward, his parents "kept the family moving forward as best they could. We didn't dwell on it," Joe said. His family had no idea what he did on Nui Chom.     For the Army, Crescenz was unfinished business, and men in uniform would return to Thouron Avenue. Once it was to present his parents with their son's Bronze Star, the first indication Michael had done something extraordinary. Then, on a Friday evening in early 1970, there was another knock on the door from another man in uniform. Joe's father ordered his children upstairs, but Joe could still hear. "I couldn't believe my ears. And it still didn't sink in until Mom and Dad explained more the next day. That this gentleman was asking my parents' presence, to come to the White House to have the Medal of Honor bestowed on our brother Michael for his actions in Vietnam over a year and a half earlier." On April 7, 1970, President Richard M. Nixon presented the Medal of Honor to Crescenz's parents. His brothers Charles and Peter also attended the ceremony, as did Wetzel, his battalion commander. Nixon presented 21 Medals of Honor that day, all posthumously. "They wouldn't be the men that they were if they didn't come from good families," Nixon told the assembled. "We know that. Their mothers, their fathers, those who grew up with them - something came from that family that helped them be the men that they were, that gave them that extra something which enabled them to do something far beyond the call of duty." The award did not surprise Ron Burke. "The citation stating how he reacted, how quickly he reacted. That, to me, was Mike Crescenz," Burke said. "And obviously he paid the ultimate price for our country. And the family lost a great son and a brother. And we all lost a good friend that day. But the end result is, that was Michael." Engler, Crescenz's other childhood friend, had the same reaction. "I just thought, that's not out of character for Mike," said Engler, now 64 and living in Bucks County. "When it did come time to overcome challenges like that, he was fearless sometimes." Some of Crescenz's fellow soldiers did not learn about the Medal of Honor until years later. Bisbee said three decades passed before he heard the news at a veterans' reunion. Knowing now what happened, Bisbee believes Crescenz saved his life. "Mike is an absolute hero," said Bisbee, now 66 and living in Nebraska. "I had opportunities to charge bunkers. I never did." Today, veterans returning from wars are welcomed home and celebrated. Troops returning home during the Vietnam era faced a decidedly different reception. "Back in 1968, '69, and '70, that was a hard time for a soldier to come home from anywhere," said Burke, now 64, who served along the DMZ in South Korea and now lives in Camden County. Crescenz was buried in Cheltenham because his parents wanted him close by. After they died - their father at age 66 in 1988 and their mother at age 68 in 1992 - Crescenz's brothers decided that his body should be moved to Arlington National Cemetery. Frank Tacey, a Vietnam veteran from Philadelphia who now lives in Florida, had never heard of Crescenz until the 2008 reinterment was covered in the news. Tacey then came up with the idea to rename the Philadelphia Veterans Administration Medical Center in his honor. Tacey approached Joe Crescenz, who agreed to support the effort. "I think his story should be told," Tacey said. In February, Rep. Chaka Fattah and Sens. Pat Toomey and Bob Casey introduced legislation to name the center after Crescenz, who was promoted to corporal after his death. The bills are pending in Congress. Burke said renaming the center was fitting. "It is something to say, 'Hey, this is somebody good and decent who did something great for his country,' " Burke said. "Sometimes you've got keep the story alive."   MEDALS OF HONOR 2,403 Army Medals of Honor have been awarded since its introduction during the U.S. Civil War. 160 were awarded to Army soldiers who fought in the Vietnam War.   >Inquirer.com For online extras, including a video of Michael Crescenz's commander and a medic talking about his actions; a video of his brother talking about his death; and an audio recording of President Richard Nixon's speech at the medal ceremony, go to www.inquirer.com/medal Contact Robert Moran at 215-854-5983, or bmoran@phillynews.com, or follow @RobertMoran215 on Twitter. Robert Moran Inquirer Staff Writer
 Comments  (8)
  •   Posted 12:14 PM, 09/15/2013 Wow, this is amazing - all these years later I now read about this man's life. My mother graduated from Dougherty in '66 (along with a 1/3 of the city, apparently). When I would flip through the yearbook as a child, she would take the time to point out Michael's picture, and honor him. Someday when my son is older, and I want to teach him a more profound lesson about courage and sacrifice, I'll show him Corporal Crescenz's name on the Philadelphia Vietnam Veteran's Memorial. — Murrayman Sign in to report abuse 0 like this / 0 don't  
•   Posted 1:38 PM, 09/15/2013 Well said, Murrayman.....Cardinal Dougherty's favorite son. I remember two things about Michael.....when Dougherty was forced to close, a VFW post offered to move his memorial to their post and it happened! Second when he was disinterred and moved to Arlington there was a tremendous motorcade escort to Arlington by concerned Philadelphians - a Brotherly Love I would say..... — Tom Kearney  
•   Posted 1:39 PM, 09/15/2013 There used to be case in which Cpl. Crescenz's heroics were remembered inside Dougherty along with a monument (honoring other fallen heros) on the lawn. While the monument was moved to a friendly veteran's site, the case and its honors didn't get much respect by the mahoffs from the Archdiocese. That's a real shame. — JimR Sign in to report abuse 0 like this / 0 don't  
•   Posted 1:52 PM, 09/15/2013 Rest in Peace brave soldier. Rest in peace. — Nuff Said Sign in to report abuse 0 like this / 0 don't
 •   Posted 2:02 PM, 09/15/2013 Thank you for sharing your story which is still so important after all of these years. My brother, SFC Michael Tully, was KIA in Iraq in 2007. Like you and your family, we could not be more proud of these young men. Their service and our love for our brothers will never forgotten. I hope to carry on my brother's legacy as you have for your's. God bless you and your family... — Heather Tully-Farkas Sign in to report abuse 0 like this / 0 don't  
•   Posted 2:02 PM, 09/15/2013 A true hero. The City of Philadelphia should create a memorial. — jimd98 Sign in to report abuse 0 like this / 0 don't  
•   Posted 3:26 PM, 09/15/2013 The city torn down a stadium named in honor of veterans and then helped pay for two stadiums that were named after a financial organizations. How about naming one for this soldier? — jerryk2b
  •   Posted 4:14 PM, 09/15/2013 jerryk2b...naming rights bring millions of revenue for the sports teams. Do you really think those teams are going to forgo that revenue to name the stadium for a war hero? — mindstorms
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/news/20130915_Remembering_a_Medal_of_Honor_recipient_from_Philadelphia.html#XQ2xs6diXPbL1qqg.99

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Visit Section 60 At Arlington Cemetery, And See The Dead As People

I've always wondered how I would act in a war.  Would I be scared?  Would I be brave? Etc.

So often we hear or see the names of those soldiers killed in Afghanistan, Iraq, etc., and their ages, but nothing more beyond that about them as people.  So please see below:



Before vote on Syria, visit Section 60   Dana Milbank POSTED: Wednesday, September 4, 2013, 1:08 AM

As President Obama weighs a strike on Syria, he will meet with military advisers, consult with allies, talk with congressional leaders, and perhaps check the opinion polls. But before he sends Americans into another war, I suggest one more activity: Return to Section 60 at Arlington National Cemetery. This is where those killed in Iraq and Afghanistan lie at Arlington. These fallen warriors have filled 25 rows since the first arrived in early 2002. Obama stopped at Section 60 on Memorial Day after visiting the Tomb of the Unknowns. I visited later in the day, as I had before. There is no better way to picture the consequences of our wars. I went back to Section 60 this week and surveyed the temporary grave markers and the fresh stones that have appeared since about the time the president visited. Here are a few of the heroes he would encounter now: Twenty-six-year-old Corey Edwin Garver died June 23 in Afghanistan's Paktia province, on the Pakistan border. The Maine native, an Army infantry sergeant, was killed by an improvised explosive device. Warrant Officer Sean W. Mullen, a 39-year-old special-forces soldier, was killed by an IED in an insurgent attack June 2 in Helmand province, Afghanistan. His posthumous Bronze Star was his third. His death notice says he liked reading, hunting, collecting antique guns, renovating old Jeeps, and, with his wife, rescuing stray dogs. James Groves III, buried May 1, probably would have had a temporary grave marker when Obama last visited. According to the Dayton Daily News, Groves ran in the Marine Corps Marathon in October and, while in town, toured Arlington and told his wife he wanted to be buried there if he died in combat. He was killed when the helicopter he was piloting crashed near Kandahar. The chief warrant officer left a wife and two sons. Another headstone to rise since Obama's visit is that of Staff Sgt. Eric D. Christian of Marines special forces. The 39-year-old from Warwick, N.Y., and a colleague were killed by one of the Afghan National Army soldiers they were training. There are fresh stones, too, for the Army sergeant who died in Bagram in June in a noncombat incident, the ordnance disposal technician who survived a horrific explosion in Iraq only to die in a car crash at home, and the soldier who earned a Purple Heart in Afghanistan and apparently took his own life at home. These new arrivals join Lt. Col. John Darin Loftis, the father of two daughters who was killed in an attack on the Afghan interior ministry and buried at the end of March. A few open graves in Section 60 were covered with plywood and artificial turf, awaiting occupants. As I walked among the recent graves, a group of Marines, in blue and gold T-shirts, arrived to pay respects to fallen comrades. A cemetery worker was tamping the earth. There were flower arrangements at every 10th grave or so. Helium balloons decorated the grave of a soldier who would have turned 24 last week. Scattered about were other mementos: a framed Bronze Star citation, a chip from Spanky's Lounge in Jacksonville, Fla., and a handwritten card to a young man who died last year: "I miss you more than you can imagine, my son." As I prepared to leave, I heard a rifle volley and Taps from a distant burial. Now, as Obama prepares for a possible military action in Syria, he's facing a choice of a minimal strike that will achieve little, or greater involvement that would be costlier and still may not work. He's sure to be criticized either way, but that doesn't matter. What matters is whether the prospects for success in Syria justify filling more rows of Section 60.

Follow Washington Post columnist Dana Milbank on Twitter, @Milbank.
Read more at http://www.philly.com/philly/opinion/inquirer/20130904_Before_vote_on_Syria__visit_Section_60.html#pVXdFdyA4QDDdDtk.99

Friday, April 5, 2013

Anima=Majestic Burial Horses Of Arlington National Cemetery At Rest Portraits By Charlotte Dumas


NOW at the Corcoran

Charlotte Dumas: Anima

July 14–October 28, 2012


Charlotte Dumas: Anima July 14–October 28 from Corcoran Gallery of Art on Vimeo.


Charlotte Dumas travels the world making evocative formal portraits of animals. She typically works in series, portraying animals characterized by their utility, social function, or by the way they relate to people. Anima, her first one-person museum exhibition in the United States, features a newly commissioned series of portraits centered on the majestic burial horses of Arlington National Cemetery. These Army horses, which belong to the Old Guard—the 3rd Infantry Regiment—carry soldiers to their final resting place in traditional military funerals. Between 2010 and 2012, Dumas photographed them in their stables and at work.
The exhibition also includes three earlier bodies of work that explore the inner lives of animals.Reverie (2005) depicts gray wolves, alone and in packs, in forested nature preserves in Sweden, Norway, and the United States. Palermo 7 (2006) is a series of close-up portraits showing racehorses, their heads tethered in place, in their hippodrome stalls in Italy and France. Heart Shaped Hole(2008) depicts stray dogs, adapting in different ways to the privation they experience on the streets of Palermo.
Dumas draws inspiration from classical portrait painting of the 17th-century Dutch Golden Age to explore the relationship between her subjects and their environment. She often presents her subjects as heroic, engaged in a struggle of sorts: against their marginalization or confinement, and against the encroachment—spatial and psychological—of people. Her portraits make us more conscious of how we look at animals in our everyday lives and provoke us to examine our own role in their stories. "The bond between mankind and animals, and the extensive history that it accompanies, is my great interest," says the artist. "I investigate how we tend to use and regard animals for our own purposes, both literally and symbolically—and the characteristics that we like to take to heart from them, and the ones we attribute to them."
Charlotte Dumas was born in Vlaardingen, the Netherlands, in 1977. She graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in Amsterdam in 2000 and continued her education at the Rijksakademie from 2001 to 02. Her work has been included in many group exhibitions and in solo shows in the Netherlands, Italy, France, and the United States. Dumas has published several books, each dedicated to a single portrait series. Her most recent book, Retrieved (2011), which received widespread acclaim, focuses on the surviving search and rescue dogs that assisted recovery operations following 9/11. Charlotte Dumas lives and works in both Amsterdam and New York City. She is represented by Julie Saul Gallery in New York and by Galerie Paul Andriesse in Amsterdam.
Charlotte Dumas: Anima is organized by the Corcoran Gallery of Art and made possible through the support of the Mondriaan Foundation and Netherlands Cultural Services.mondriaan









Ringo

Friday, January 4, 2013

What Cemetery Has The Mast Of The USS Maine?260 Died-"Remember The Maine"-Great Pix


Arlington National Cemetery Website Top BANNER 3

USS Maine BANNER

The mast of the U.S.S. Maine was removed from the ship in 1905 shortly before the ship was taken out to sea and sunk with military honors. The mast was then installed above a memorial in Arlington National Cemetery in honor of those who lost their lives when the ship sank in Havana, Cuba, Harbor in 1898. This sinking was the event that started off the Spanish-American War.


USS Maine Memorial
Arlington National Cemetery
Arlington County
Arlington, Virginia
HABS No.: VA-1348-D
CAD Measured Drawings, Written History and Large-format Photography (1999)The sinking of the battleship USS Maine in Havana harbor on 15 February 1898 was the seminal event leading to the Spanish-American War.  Although the cause of the explosion (whether a Spanish torpedo or an internal mechanical malfunction) has never been definitively determined, the event enraged American public opinion, and on 19 April Congress declared war on Spain.  The Spanish forces were defeated with relative ease, and the United States eventually acquired Cuba, Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines as colonies.
In late 1899 the remains of 163 of the sailors and marines who died in the explosion were removed from the semi-submerged ship.  They were laid to rest with solemn ceremony in their own section of Arlington National Cemetery on 28 December of that year.  An anchor from a similar battleship, and two flanking 18th century Spanish mortars brought back from Manila by Admiral Dewey, were installed as the first memorial to the victims of the USS Maine.
The ruins of the battleship remained in Havana harbor for another decade.  Finally, bowing to both American and Cuban public pressure, the Navy built cofferdams around the ship to re-examine the ruins and to remove the remaining human remains, before towing the ship out to sea and scuttling it in 1912.  During this time, the ship's main mast was removed and brought to Arlington to form part of a larger memorial, to be located adjacent to the interred sailors and marines.  A design competition for the USS Maine Memorial was held in 1912.  The results, however, were deemed unsatisfactory, and the Commission of Fine Arts subsequently commissioned prominent Washington architect Nathan C. Wyeth to design the memorial.
The memorial, as designed by Wyeth and dedicated in 1913, is in the form of a circular, stylized turret, serving as the base for the mast.  Constructed of concrete, it is sheathed on the interior by marble, and on the exterior by granite.  23 panels on the exterior list the names and occupations of the 264 sailors and marines who perished when the ship sank.  Stylized granite Roman tripods flank the entrance.  A fragment of the ship's bell is attached to the massive bronze door.  The nautical theme is reinforced by the use of metal rope and emblematic anchors on the bronze entrance gate.  Bronze grills fill the 11 slit windows.  The interior ceiling is in the form of a shallow saucer dome, and the floor is of mosaic tile.  The entire memorial is flanked by two granite balustrades across the circumferential road surrounding the structure.
The USS Maine Memorial acquired additional historical significance by serving as the temporary resting place for the remains of  Ignace Jan Paderewski, noted Polish patriot and internationally renowned concert pianist, from 1941-92.  In 1962, a terrace paved with bluestone flagging was constructed for the anchor and mortars.
Documentation of the USS Maine Memorial at Arlington National Cemetery was undertaken by the Historic American Buildings Survey / Historic American Engineering Record (HABS/HAER) division of the National Park Service, E. Blaine Cliver, Chief.  The project was sponsored by the US Department of the Navy, Richard L. Hayes, NAVFACHQ Chief Historic Architect; and by the US Army Corps of Engineers, Technical Center of Expertise for Preservation of Structures and Buildings, Horace Foxall, Jr., Manager.  Project planning was coordinated by Paul Dolinsky, Chief, HABS; by Catherine C. Lavoie, HABS Historian; and by Joseph Bunton, Engineer, Arlington National Cemetery.  The field work was undertaken and the drawings were produced by HABS Architects Mark Schara and Raul Vazquez. Assistance in the production of the drawings was provided by Architecture Technician Brian J. Bitner (Catholic University of America).  The historical report was written by HABS Historian Virginia B. Price.  The large format photography was produced by HABS Photographer Jack E. Boucher.


USS Maine Wreckage In Havana HarborUSS Maine Wreckage
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Located near the U.S.S. Maine mast and memorial is the anchor that was taken from the vessel following its destruction in Havana Harbor, Cuba.
The Anchor of the USS Maine - PHOTO
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USS Maine Anchor, 1915
Collection of Michael Robert Patterson
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1911 Photos From The Collection of M. R. Patterson
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USS Maine Memorial PHOTO
Photos from the Library of Congress
In Remembrance of the USS Maine Observance Marks Anniversary of Sinking
By Steve Vogel Washington Post Staff Writer Monday, February 16, 1998
"Remember the Maine," the rallying cry that led the United States into a war with Spain, was intoned once again yesterday as more than a hundred gathered to mark the 100th anniversary of the ship's sinking in Havana harbor.This time, the words were a mournful cry in memory of the 266 American sailors and Marines who perished in the explosion and sinking.
Yesterday, beneath a bright blue sky, Secretary of the Navy John H. Dalton and descendants of the ship's crew members walked to a hilltop in Arlington National Cemetery where the mast of the sunken ship is the centerpiece of the USS Maine Memorial. The name of each victim is etched on the stone of the memorial. The graves of 228 Maine crew members are nearby.
"We are gathered at a location which few Americans even know exists," retired Rear Admiral Morton E. Toole said. "But in its day, this was as sacred as the Vietnam Memorial wall is today."
The USS Maine, bristling with heavy guns that made it one of the premier battleships in the Navy, was dispatched to Cuba in January 1898, ostensibly on a goodwill visit. But it was also to protect Americans on the island in the wake of increased friction between the United States and Spain. Cuba, then part of the Spanish empire, had been the scene of some insurgency by Cuban rebels.
On February 15, 1898, at 9:41 p.m., as the 319-foot-long Maine lay moored in the harbor, Havana was illuminated by a burst of bright light. The Maine was shattered by a prolonged explosion that sent debris into the air and filled the sky with black smoke. Less than one-fourth of the 350 crew members on board survived the explosion; the rest were blown apart, crushed, drowned or suffocated.
Public opinion fixed blame for the explosion on Spain, and "Remember the Maine" soon became the cry of American newspapers, particularly William Randolph Hearst's New York Journal. The United States declared war on Spain in April 1898. American victories in Cuba and the Philippines marked the emergence of the United States as a world power.
But there were always doubts that the sinking of the Maine was anything but an accident. An inquiry ordered by Admiral Hyman Rickover and conducted by historians and engineers in the mid-1970s concluded that a mine or torpedo could not have been responsible for the blast. The likely cause was a coal bunker fire that ignited the ship's magazine. Some still insist that the Maine was a victim of sabotage.
Speakers at yesterday's ceremonies said the debate is no longer relevant. "It makes no difference whether the explosion was caused internally by coal or externally by a mine," Toole said. "The fact is 266 Americans died."
Wreaths were placed on three of the graves surrounding the USS Maine Memorial. One was laid on the grave of Sergeant James T. Brown, the senior Marine killed on the battleship; the second on the grave of Chief Yeoman James M. League, an Annapolis native; and the third on a joint grave that holds the remains of four unknown victims. Thirty-two descendants of League's, most of whom still live in Maryland, were among those who attended the ceremony. "We usually have a reunion every year, but this is the first time we've all assembled to come to the memorial," said Patsy Mills, 67, who retired as secretary of the Somerset County Board and is one of League's great-granddaughters.
"My grandmother always talked about him, how he was a warrant officer and they found him in his bunk," Mills said. "When we were little, my parents always brought us to this monument, to see all the names."
Margaret Daly, 81, a granddaughter of Brown's who lives in New York City, dabbed her eyes with a tissue after helping lay a wreath on her grandfather's grave. "A lot of people don't even know what it's all about," Daly said.

Cubans Remember The USS Maine Explosion
February 7, 1998 - The Associated Press


HAVANA (AP) -- The lightning and thunder of a huge explosion ripped through the still darkness, shattering windows, knocking doors off hinges, sending the panicked people of Havana streaming down toward the waterfront. After the echoes died, the destruction of the USS Maine that February night did one more thing as well: It propelled a new player, an assertive America, onto the road to global power. 
Today, 100 years later, the oily black waters of Havana harbor ebb and flow over the spot where the U.S. battleship exploded and sank, claiming the lives of 267 crewmen. Tiny ferries chug past, as they did then. Rusting old freighters ride at anchor. 
And just as on the moonless night of Feb. 15, 1898, dark suspicions and uncertainties still cling to the Maine.
At Havana's City Museum, Nora Benitez, a custodian of photographs, equipment and other artifacts of the Maine, sets out the standard Cuban view: That the warship was destroyed in a cold-blooded American conspiracy. 
``The United States was behind the explosion,'' she insists. ``We've always known it was a pretext the United States used to intervene in Cuba.'' 
A Cuban naval historian, Gustavo Placer Cervera, more in touch with technical analyses of what happened that night, subscribes to the ``Rickover report'' -- the conclusion that the Maine explosion was probably an accident, not sabotage. 
But what's more important, says the retired navy commander, is that the U.S. government ``manipulated and used the explosion. ... The key fact is that the war was prepared in advance.''
The mystery of the Maine, spark to the Spanish-American War, reaches back to the 19th century. But on this 100th anniversary it's clear it will feed mistrust between nations well into the 21st. 
------ 
When the 319-foot-long warship, armed with 10-inch guns, sailed into Havana harbor on January 25, 1898, it was an unwelcome guest. 
Spanish colonial authorities had been notified of its ``friendly'' visit only hours before. But trying to block it would have been dangerously provocative. Relations were bad enough between Madrid and Washington. 
The U.S. government was pressuring Spain to pull out of Cuba, where guerrillas were fighting an independence war. Americans were outraged at Spanish atrocities. Some in Washington -- and Cuba -- favored U.S. annexation of the sugar island. 
President William McKinley ordered the battleship to Havana to intimidate hard-liners in the Spanish military who were resisting Spain's autonomy plan for Cuba. These officers were furious. Ashore in Havana, the Maine's captain, Charles D. Sigsbee, was handed an anti-American leaflet on which someone had scrawled, ``Watch out for your ship!'' 
On Feb. 15, most of the 328 enlisted crewmen retired after 9 p.m. to their hammocks in the forward quarters. Twenty-two officers were in aft cabins or at their posts. 
At 9:40 p.m., those in the rear felt and then heard the explosion, a ``bursting, rending and crashing roar,'' as Sigsbee later called it. It was tremendous -- experts estimated 10,000 to 20,000 pounds of powder in forward ammunition magazines blew up. 
Towering flames shot into the sky, along with bits of metal deck, guns, men and pieces of men. The forward third of the ship was transformed into mangled, sunken wreckage. The aft settled to the muddy bottom. 
Back in America, a sensationalist press decided a Spanish mine had destroyed the ship -- even though Spain wanted to avoid war at all costs. ``The Warship Maine Was Split In Two By An Enemy's Secret Infernal Machine!'' the New York Journal screamed. 
The U.S. Navy was not so sure
It convened a court of inquiry in Havana, four officers who relied on what the Maine's officers and Navy divers, working in primitive helmets in the inky murk, could tell them. 
The court focused on the hull's steel keel, bent upward in an inverted ``V.'' Its report, on March 21, 1898, concluded there were two explosions: The explosion of a mine beneath the hull that blew the keel upward, and the resulting detonation of the powder stored above. 
It said it had no evidence fixing responsibility. But for America's yellow press and congressional jingoes, there was no question it was the ``perfidious'' Spaniards. ``Remember the Maine!'' was the slogan on millions of American lips, emblazoned across shop windows, sung by children, printed on candies and women's hair ribbons. 
By late April, U.S. forces were at war with Spain, and in just three months they seized the Philippines, Guam and Puerto Rico. America, suddenly, was an Asian and Caribbean colonial power. 
Cuban rebels, believing they were near victory and fearing U.S. annexation, had not wanted American intervention. Now an independent Cuba came under U.S. domination, in a relationship that didn't end until Fidel Castro's revolution six decades later. 
In 1911, because the sunken Maine was a navigation hazard, and 70 men's remains were still trapped in the hulk, U.S. military engineers built a cofferdam around the wreck, water was pumped out, remains were recovered, and the rear two-thirds of the ship was refloated, towed to sea and sunk again. 
The ``dewatering'' allowed the Navy to photograph the wreckage in detail, and a new court of inquiry was convened. It rejected the 1898 finding on the inverted ``V,'' saying that was caused by the internal explosion. Instead, it focused on a hull bottom plate bent inward -- damaged, the court held, by an exploding external mine. 
So the record stood for decades, until U.S. Adm. Hyman G. Rickover, ``father of the nuclear Navy,'' took an interest and put experts to work on the Maine case, using more sophisticated analysis of the old photos. 
Their 1976 report concluded the explosion was almost certainly caused by spontaneous combustion of coal in a bunker abutting a powder magazine. Such coal fires were commonplace in that day. They said a mine would have caused more damage to the inward-bent plate.
But they acknowledged, ``A simple explanation is not to be found.'' 
In 1995, Smithsonian Institution Press published a book, ``Remembering the Maine,'' by Peggy and Harold Samuels, pointing up flaws in the Rickover analysis and concluding that Spanish fanatics had set off a mine. It cited no new hard evidence, but uncorroborated reports of the time about plots against the ship. 
In Spain, opinion is also divided. The Spanish navy approvingly reprinted the Rickover study, but a Spanish historical journal has pointed a finger at Cuban saboteurs. 
Most recently, the National Geographic Society commissioned a computer modeling study of the coal-fire and mine theories, and found both feasible. ``The case remains open,'' National Geographic says in its February issue. 
------ 
The 40-foot-high columns of Havana's Maine Monument rise forlornly over the Malecon, the city's seaside boulevard. Broken beer bottles litter its derelict fountain. 
The pedestal on top has been bare since Castroites pulled down the ``arrogant'' American eagle in 1961. A new plaque describes the dead sailors as victims of ``imperialist greed in its effort to take over the island of Cuba.'' 
``They pretended that intervention on behalf of Cuba was a big deal, but it was just to take over Cuba's resources,'' said Benitez, the City Museum curator. 
Rickover, who died in 1986, concluded that with better investigative work in 1898, ``war might have been avoided.'' Placer is not so sure. 
The Havana scholar has labored long hours meticulously reviewing century-old U.S. Navy orders and U.S. diplomatic messages. He says the war plans, the inertia, all were headed toward collision with Spain. 
``The explosion of the Maine only accelerated things,'' he said. 
And what happened that windless tropical night 100 Februarys ago? When we remember the Maine, what are we remembering?
``We'll never know,'' the Cuban historian said. ``All we have are hypotheses. We cannot prove them. We will never prove them.'' 


By Eugene L. Meyer Washington Post Staff Writer Friday, June 12, 1998Remember the Maine? No? What about Capt. Charles D. Sigsbee? Or Lt. Richmond Pearson Hobson? Well, then, how about the Hero of Manila, Admiral George Dewey? You remember: the man who uttered the immortal words, "You may fire when you are ready, Gridley." Still clueless? Well, surely the Rough Riders ring a bell. You know, Teddy Roosevelt and the Battle of San Juan Hill?
For the historically impaired, it was, in Secretary of State John Hay's phrase, "a splendid little war" that incidentally transformed America into an imperial world power. But 100 years after it happened, who now remembers the Spanish-American War? There's nothing approaching the huzzahs and hoopla of the Civil War centennial or even the somber remembrance occasioned by the 50th year anniversaries of World War II.
There are no veterans left to remind us -- the last died in 1992, at age 106 -- and Spanish-American War reenactments resonate in, shall we say, a very low key.
And yet, the war that marked, as a contemporary book title put it, "The Passing of Spain and the Ascendency of America," is still much with us:
A century later, our war-won "possessions" nag: Puerto Ricans clamor for statehood, Guamanians for commonwealth status. Cuba, on its own since 1902, remains problematic. Beyond the geo-political issues these territories raise, tangible if largely uncharted reminders of the conflict can be found in and around the Washington area.
From Washington National Cathedral to the Washington Navy Yard to Arlington National Cemetery and Annapolis are monuments, memorials, artifacts and ghosts of the Spanish-American War. A mere two hours north, the cruiser from which Dewey directed the destruction of the Spanish fleet sits docked on the Delaware River, the only surviving ship of America's all-steel "New Navy" of the 1880s and 1890s.
How did America find itself in this now all-but-forgotten conflict? Having fulfilled its Manifest Destiny to span the North American continent, the United States was hankering to expand beyond its borders and the Spanish empire loomed large and vulnerable. Spain had staked its global claims in the early 1500s. Though Spain had lost its Central and South American colonies, it still possessed the Philippines, Guam, Puerto Rico and -- just 90 miles from Key West -- Cuba. Cuban insurrectos were challenging Spain's colonial rule; Imperial Spain had decided to crack down.
All that was needed was a spark. That would be the Maine, and the incendiary "yellow press" -- waging its own war of circulation in the newspapers of Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst -- would further help inflame the situation.
The shooting war that swept away what remained of the Spanish empire lasted just a bit longer than the Gulf War. When the smoke cleared, the United States was in possession of most of Spain's territory and the American Century had dawned.
Many events of that watershed time are worth recalling. But first, remember the Maine!
The ship had been anchored three weeks in Havana Harbor, supposedly to safeguard American interests while Spanish colonialists and Cuban revolutionaries duked it out, when the big blast occurred on Feb. 15, 1898. Historians to this day differ on whether an accidental shipboard ignition or a Spanish mine caused the USS Maine to explode and sink. Regardless, "Remember the Maine!" became an emotional battle cry that propelled us into war with Spain three months later, and to victory shortly thereafter.
The explosion seemingly blasted the ship's pieces and contents far, far beyond the Caribbean island, since fragments and artifacts appear in so many museums in so many geographically dispersed locales. And in a sense, the explosion did have a rather tornadic impact.
The Maine itself was raised from Havana Harbor in 1912, its foremast removed to the Naval Academy in Annapolis, its mainmast to Arlington National Cemetery, where 229 crew members were reburied with much pomp. Last month, on Memorial Day, a service was held there, attended by the Spanish ambassador and an American general of Hispanic heritage. The U.S. Army band played, attracting a few tourists, and fresh wreaths were laid. The crowd was small. No American media covered the event.
The Maine monument, mainmast and graves of the crewmen are all located on or near Sigsbee Drive, named for the ship's captain. When John C. Metzler Jr., superintendent of Arlington National Cemetery, leads tours, he says, "I always make a reference to the Maine and its importance." But when he, once, raised his fist and proclaimed "Remember the Maine!" he got no response. End of shtick.
I visited the cemetery on a drizzly gray day. In search of specific graves, I was able to obtain a pass that allowed me to drive my car into the grounds. I wended my way around Schley Drive, named for Rear Adm. Winfield Scott Schley, of Frederick, Md., largely credited with the naval victory at Santiago, Cuba, and buried in Section 6.
I searched for Schley's grave, and also for that of Hobson, finding neither, though I did find Hobson Drive and Hobson's Gate, named for the young naval officer elevated to hero status after his capture by the Spanish at Santiago.
But, serendipitously, I stumbled onto the obelisk memorial to "Fighting Joe" Wheeler, an old Confederate general recommissioned to fight in Cuba and remembered here as "soldier, statesman, gentlest, tenderest and most lovable of men." Wheeler's grave is just below the Custis-Lee House, with a sweeping view of monumental Washington.
Further up the hill, I noted a monument to little-known Brig. Gen. Theodore J. Wint (1845-1907), a veteran of the Civil War, Indian Frontier (1866 to 1888), Cuba (1898), China (1900-1901), the Philippines (1901-1904) and the Army of Cuban Pacification (1906-1907). Here was a man, I thought, whose career encompassed a good deal of American martial history, a 20th-century link to the past -- and a Spanish-American War veteran to boot.
It's harder to miss the Maine's mast on Sigsbee Drive, near the much more visited Tomb of the Unknowns. In the same vicinity looms another monument to "the Soldiers and Sailors of the U.S. who gave their lives for their country in the war of 1898-9 with Spain." (For the record, only 379 Americans died in battle, ten times as many succumbed to disease, and another 1,415 were wounded. On the other side, 2,312 Spanish were killed in battle, 3,260 wounded.)
There are other Spanish-American War monuments in these parts: to the nurses who served in the war, to the famed Rough Riders, officially the 1st U.S. Volunteer Cavalry. Leonard Wood, commander of the unit in which Teddy Roosevelt held a lower rank but a higher profile, is buried here. So is Rear Adm. William T. Sampson, who drew up the naval battle plan used to defeat the Spanish at Santiago but received little of the credit.
And, of course, there are rows of small headstones, marking the graves of those who served and survived but ultimately were buried here. The common soldier is also memorialized in a statue known as "The Hiker" on Memorial Drive, just outside the cemetery. The statue of a soldier wearing a Spanish-American War uniform and holding a rifle in both hands was erected as recently as 1965. It just looks older.
If the USS Maine represented a humiliation that propelled America into war, the USS Olympia -- Admiral Dewey's flagship at Manila -- symbolized American triumph and vindication, the utter destruction of the Spanish fleet in just a few hours on May 1, 1898. Items from both the Maine and the Olympia are on display at the Washington Navy Yard, in a museum housed in a former breech mechanism shop. The 1898 conflict covers but a small section within the cavernous building, but it's hard to miss.
Here's a silver tray used in the wardroom of the Maine, and a commemorative spoon with "Sigsbee" on the handle and the Maine in the bowl. Here are views of Admiral Dewey, he of the thinning white hair and bushy white mustache, on the deck of the Olympia. In another display case, there are Dewey's cocked hat, dress coat, pants and shoes and the pennant that flew from the Olympia. Here, too, for local history buffs of the war, is a scroll of 93 volunteers from Washington, mustered in May 17, 1898, mustered out almost six months to the day, with just one fatality.
The Navy Yard, it turns out, was where the Olympia ended her final mission on Nov. 9, 1921, bringing with her a casket from France containing the Unknown Soldier. The ship wound up in Philadelphia and, thanks to the efforts of private citizens, was never sold for scrap with the rest of the fleet. There it sits today, docked on the Delaware River waterfront.
I'd first seen her in 1966, as a young reporter assigned to do lots of cheap fun Philadelphia things for a week. Boarding cost 50 cents then, $5 today. It's still a cheap thrill. The ship shares its berth with a World War II submarine, which must be crossed to reach her. The duo are now part of the adjacent Independence Seaport Museum, dedicated to "exploring America's maritime heritage."
The Olympia, with a fresh exterior paint job but with no ballast, was listing slightly to port when I boarded. Remarkably, tourists pretty well have the run of the 106-year old ship, which is 344 feet long and 53 feet wide. I wandered the lower and upper decks alone before meeting up with Tim Hastings, a 32-year-old former naval officer who is the ship's curator.
The Olympia's not in such great shape, he told me. It needs a $5 million overhaul to replace the steel and otherwise make her, as they say, shipshape. But it's still a sight to see. Even if none of its guns are original, there is much that is, or close to it.
The main deck exhibits what Hastings calls "cutting edge 1890s technology" in a refrigerator that used compressed air. And there's the galley, last "modernized" in 1902. There's Dewey's pantry, bathroom and cabin, and bookcases he had made in the Philippines. Throughout are display cases full of Dewey memorabilia. After the war, Dewey was awarded a mere $9,570 for defeating the Spanish squadron at Manila. How much richer he might have been if he'd simply invested in souvenir spoons, or been compensated for his image on a displayed box of Hershey chocolate cigars.
The selling of the war goes on, of course, in the Independence Seaport Museum gift shop. There, $18.99 gets you an Olympia cap, $15 a nice poster of the ship at sea, $9 an 8-by-10 photo, $6 a coffee mug, $4.99 a hot plate, $3.99 a commemorative license plate, $2.99 an ashtray. My favorite, however, for a mere $19.99, is a medal made from the propeller of the Olympia, inscribed with the date of May 1, 1898 and the words that by now you must surely remember: "You may fire when you are ready, Gridley."
I found no such inscription anywhere in Arlington National Cemetery, where there's Dewey Drive, but no Admiral Dewey. The Hero of Manila was buried there in 1917, but his wife moved his remains in 1925 to Washington National Cathedral.
There he is buried under the Bethlehem Chapel, the first part of the edifice to be constructed upon his motion in 1910 as a Cathedral board member. On the north side of the chapel is a cenotaph with four stars, his name, vital dates and highest rank: Admiral of the Navy. Two flags fly over it: a four-star flag, and the Stars and Stripes. Nearby, there's a memorial plaque for his younger son, A. Peter Dewey, a paratrooper killed in action in China in 1945.
Not on any tour but prominent in a circle between the Cathedral and St. Albans School for Boys is the Peace Cross "raised in the Historic Year A.D. 1898," according to the inscription, "that it may please Thee to give to all Nations Unity, Peace and Concord " A 1922 guide notes that the cross was raised to mark the Cathedral's beginnings "and as a memorial of peace with Spain. Before the Cross the fair city is spread out, the Capitol being the central point of vision in the distance." From this height, I could more clearly see the Washington Monument, and even Arlington beyond.
The grounds of the Naval Academy in Annapolis are also monumental, and it was here that George Dewey graduated in 1858, perfectly in time to see service in the Civil War. With naval action dominating the Spanish-American War, it's not surprising that almost all of its heroes were graduates of the Academy. What is surprising is that, in this centennial year, so little has been done there to remember them.
This is through no fault of James W. Cheevers, curator of the Naval Academy Museum, who has mounted a splendid exhibit on the conflict inside Preble Hall.
"I hoped the visitor center would run special tours," he said, "at least on Feb. 15, May 1 and July 3," anniversaries of the Maine's sinking, and the battles of Manila Bay and Santiago, respectively. In the flush of victory, Congress had appropriated $1 million to rebuild the Academy. "It was such a popular little war in our history, the first in which all the top naval leaders were Naval Academy graduates."
But in Annapolis, this year, the Maine was forgotten, and on May 1, the frenzy over the arrival and departure of the Whitbread around-the-world sailboat race totally eclipsed the anniversary date of Dewey's triumph.
No matter. Cheevers has prepared a list of "significant historic items" located at the Naval Academy. These include the foremast of the Maine; two guns from the Spanish ship Vizcaya, captured in the Battle of Manila; anchors from the USS New York, the flagship of Rear Adm. Sampson in the Battle of Santiago, and a Sampson memorial window by Louis C. Tiffany; a memorial list of alumni killed in the war; plaques and portraits; and the stern and bow ornaments of the USS Olympia.
From 1912 to 1957, the Reina Mercedes, a Spanish vessel captured at Santiago, was moored at the Academy. It was then scrapped, as were other historic vessels of the period, for cash. It lives on, in a way. Recently, the new enlisted barrack at Naval Station, Annapolis, across the Severn River, was given its name.
Following Cheevers's list, you could consume more than a day gazing at portraits, plaques and the like (consider, for instance, that the chapel's cornerstone was laid by Dewey; few do). But with so many choices, one must set priorities.
The museum exhibit is a must. It has six paintings of the USS Maine alone, a life preserver, two porthole covers, a log glass, keys to the magazines, an electric light shade and bulb, and a bugle -- all from the ship. It even has an 1888 penny from Capt. Sigsbee's desk, his ship's inkwell and binoculars.
It has four paintings of the Battle of Manila Bay, and what are said to be the first shells shot during both the battles of Manila and Santiago bays. It has a set of 12 commemorative spoons, magazine covers of Dewey (including one with his dog), 16 postcards of naval ships, famous front pages, sheet music, ship models large and small, and more Dewey mementoes, including a plate with his famous "fire when ready" command to you know whom.
During the windup to Whitbread, I'd noted in the Naval Academy's Armel-Leftwich Visitors Center a smaller display of Spanish-American War items. It was gone now, and a docent at the information desk could provide no information. But I knew where to go.
I walked outside and along the Annapolis harbor seawall to Trident Point, where the Maine's foremast rises at water's edge, its foretop still twisted from the explosion. "Ship blown up Havana Harbor 15 Feb. 1898," the small plaque asserts conclusively. "Mast recovered 6 Oct. 1910. Erected here 5 May 1913." I thought about what a big deal that must have been, back then, and how unattended the site is today. But not completely unremarked. As I stood there, I could hear a recording blaring from a loudspeaker on a tour boat, the Harbor Queen, revealing to the tourists the identity of a curious-looking tower on shore.
On my way out of the Academy yard, I paused at the 5.5-inch diameter gun seized from the Vizcaya on July 3, 1898, its long green barrel all but buried in a grove of trees. I never did find its companion, though Cheevers assured me it is nearby.
Exiting the Academy onto Maryland Avenue, I asked the Marine guard at Gate 3 if he knew its whereabouts. "Sorry, sir. I haven't really heard anything about the gun," he said. 
ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETERY -- On the cemetery grounds are the mainmast from and a monument to the USS Maine, a monument to all American forces in the war, monuments to Spanish-American War nurses, the Rough Riders and numerous military figures prominent in the conflict. "The Hiker" is a 1965 statue, opposite the Seabees monument, on Memorial Drive just outside the cemetery. The Arlington Cemetery Metro station is a short walk from the Visitors Center. There is also paid parking, but the first 30 minutes are free if the ticket is stamped at the Visitors Center. Those wishing to visit specific grave sites may obtain a vehicle pass that allows you to drive and park your car inside the cemetery. Otherwise, for $4.75, you can ride a Tourmobile, getting off and on at will, throughout the cemetery. Open 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. April through September, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. October through March. 703/695-3250. ("Arlington National Cemetery: Shrine to America's Heroes" [Woodbine Press, 1986], by James Edwards Peters, is an excellent guide to Spanish-American War and other monuments, memorials and grave sites at Arlington. It's for sale at the Visitors Center for $13.95.)
THE NEWSEUM -- This museum's News History Gallery contains a section on the role of journalism in promoting the Spanish-American War. Displayed are front pages that played up the Maine disaster and mongered for war. 1101 Wilson Blvd., Rosslyn (Metro: Rosslyn). The Newseum is free and open Wednesday through Sunday from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. 703/284-3544.
WASHINGTON NAVY YARD -- There's a Spanish-American War exhibit in the Navy Museum, within the former breech mechanism shop of the Naval Gun Factory. 901 M St. SE. Open weekdays 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. from Memorial Day through Labor Day, weekdays 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. the rest of the year, and 10 a.m to 5 p.m. weekends and holidays. Free admission and parking. 202/433-4882. On the grounds in Leutze Park are a number of captured bronze ordnance, including some Spanish guns from the era.
WASHINGTON NATIONAL CATHEDRAL -- The Gothic-style cathedral contains the grave of Adm. George Dewey, commander of the U.S. Asiatic Squadron and later Admiral of the Navy. He's buried beneath the Bethlehem Chapel, which contains a memorial to him. The 1898 Peace Cross, erected in part to commemorate the end of the war, is in a circle on the grounds overlooking Washington. Wisconsin and Massachusets avenues NW. Cathedral open 10 to 4:30 Monday through Saturday, and 12:30 to 4:30 on Sundays. 202/537-6200.
U.S. NAVAL ACADEMY -- The U.S. Naval Academy Museum has an extensive special exhibit devoted to the Spanish-American War. It is expected to be there at least through September. The foremast of the USS Maine is located along the Academy seawall a short walk from the Armel-Leftwich Visitors Center. There are many other "significant historic items" related to the war located around the Naval Academy Yard, according to museum curator James Cheevers, who has compiled a list for tourists. The list is available at the information window on the main floor of the museum. Preble Hall, 118 Maryland Ave., Annapolis, on the Academy grounds. 410/293-2108. Museum open 9 to 5 Monday through Saturday, 11 to 5 Sundays.
NATIONAL MUSEUM OF HEALTH & MEDICINE -- This museum on the grounds of Walter Reed Army Medical Center has scheduled an exhibit Sept. 11-Nov. 29 on medical aspects of the Spanish-American War, especially in Cuba and Puerto Rico. 6825 16th St. NW (enter through Georgia Avenue on weekends). 202/782-2200. Open daily 10 to 5:30. Free. Web site: http://www.natmedmuse.afip.org/
USS OLYMPIA -- Dewey's flagship is berthed at the Independence Seaport Museum, Penns Landing, Philadelphia. 215/925-5439. 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Combined admission to the Olympia and World War II submarine Becuna is $7.50 for adults, $3.50 children 5-12 (younger free) and $6 seniors. Museum-only and ships-only tickets are $5 for adults, $2.50 children and $4 seniors. Web site: http://www.libertynet.org/seaport/
The War Years
The "splendid little" Spanish-American War had both antecedents and postscripts that in retrospect make it seem somewhat less than splendid. What follows are some benchmarks along the way:
April 10, 1895 -- Jose Marti, Cuban revolutionary, launches insurrection against Spanish rule.
Aug. 26, 1896 -- Philippine revolution against Spanish rule begins. On Dec. 30, Filipino doctor Jose P. Rizal is executed for anti-Spanish writings.
Jan. 1, 1898 -- In an effort to defuse the insurrection, Spain gives Cubans limited political autonomy.
Jan. 12 -- Spaniards in Cuba riot against autonomy given to Cubans.
Jan. 25 -- USS Maine arrives in Havana Harbor to protect American interests.
Feb. 15 -- USS Maine explodes, sinks; 266 crewmen lost. The Maine's captain urges suspension of judgment on the cause of the explosion.
March 28 -- Naval Court of Inquiry says Maine destroyed by a mine.
April 11 -- President William McKinley asks Congress for declaration of war.
April 25 -- State of war exists between United States and Spain.
May 1 -- Admiral George Dewey's Asiatic Squadron, dispatched from the waters off Hong Kong by Assistant Secretary of the Navy Theodore Roosevelt, crushes Spanish fleet at Manila Bay.
June 10 -- U.S. Marines land at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.
June 12 -- Revolutionary leader Emilio Aguinaldo declares Philippine independence from Spain.
July 1 -- Battles of El Caney and San Juan Hill in Cuba result in American victories and instant national acclaim for Lt. Col. Theodore Roosevelt, the former Navy Department official and future president who leads the Rough Riders at San Juan Heights.
July 3 -- Spain's Atlantic fleet, having sought refuge in the harbor of Santiago, Cuba, attempts to escape and is destroyed by American naval forces.
July 6 -- Congress, caught up in expansionist fever fed by the war, votes to annex Hawaii, which has nothing to do with Spain. Within a few years, Filipinos immigrate to the islands in large numbers to work on the sugar plantations.
July 14 -- Santiago surrenders. Yellow fever breaks out among American troops the next day.
July 25 -- U.S. Army invades Puerto Rico.
July 26 -- Spain asks for peace.
Aug. 6 -- Spain accepts American terms for peace.
Aug. 12 -- Truce is signed with Spain.
Aug. 13 -- U.S. troops occupy Manila, prevent forces led by Philippine leader Aguinaldo from entering city.
Oct. 1 -- Peace negotiations with Spain commence in Paris.
Dec. 10 -- Spanish-American War ends, officially, with signing of the Treaty of Paris. United States pays Spain $20 million for Philippines. Spain also cedes Puerto Rico and Guam and agrees to renounce sovereignty over Cuba. In 1902, the United States declares Cuba independent, keeps naval base and the right to intervene in internal and foreign affairs.
Feb. 4, 1899 -- Philippine Insurrection, also known as the Philippine-American War, begins. It is a war of guerrilla fighting, pacification and attrition.
March 23, 1901 -- General Aguinaldo captured in the Philippines.
July 4, 1902 -- President Theodore Roosevelt declares the Philippines pacified.
Celebrating Filipino Freedom
One hundred years ago today, Filipino leader Emilio Aguinaldo declared his country's independence from Spain, which had ruled the Pacific archipelago since the 1500s. This declaration of independence, however, was summarily ignored by the United States, which had six weeks earlier destroyed the Spanish fleet in Manila Bay and within months would acquire the islands from Spain for $20 million.
There followed three years of bloody and bitter conflict known in American textbooks as the Philippine Insurrection and among Filipinos as the Philippine-American War.
No matter. The less messy part of our mutual history, under which the Philippines graduated from colony to commonwealth and, at long last, to independent country in 1946, is being celebrated here as the "USA-Philippine Festival: A Century of Freedom, Friendship and Partnership."
There are events scheduled throughout the year and around the country. In Washington, the celebration will culminate in a focus on Filipinos and Filipino Americans at the Smithsonian's Festival of American Folklife on the Mall. But before then, there's lots more. For information, call the number listed or Mitzi Pickard at 202/265-8163. Additional information is also at the Web site: http://us.sequel.net/centennial. Events are free, unless otherwise noted:
FRIDAY -- 4 a.m.: Flag Raising Ceremony at Philippine Embassy, 1600 Massachusetts Ave. NW, to coincide with the flag raising ceremonies in the Philippines. Noon: lecture on the Philippine Collection at the National Museum of Natural History's Baird Auditorium, 10th and Constitution NW. 5:30 p.m.: Exhibit of photographs of events leading to June 12, 1898, in the Philippines, at Philippine Embassy, Romulo Hall (also weekdays 1-2 p.m., through June 30). Contact Gloria Federigan, 703/893-8515. 6:30 p.m.: Philippine Centennial Fiesta Gala, JW Marriott Hotel, 1331 Pennsylvania Ave. NW. Tickets $80; call 301/340-1468 or 202/835-0875.
SATURDAY -- 12:30-9 p.m.: Filipino American Youth Dialogue: "Planting Rice, Tracing Our Roots," Funger Hall, George Washington University, 2201 G St. NW. Workshops and seminars of issues facing Filipino American youth. Contact Jojo Maralit, 301/423-8807.
SUNDAY -- Filipino American Street Fair, 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. on Pennsylvania Avenue NW between Ninth and 11 streets. 3 p.m.: Parade from Seventh to 11th streets.
THURSDAY-JULY 2 -- Philippine Centennial Film Celebration, a retrospective of nine Philippine films from 1961 to 1982. Freer Gallery of Art, Meyer Auditorium, 12th Street and Jefferson Drive SW, 202/357-2700.
JUNE 19 -- 7 p.m. "Filipina Firsts: Salute to Filipino Women," sponsored by the Philippine American Foundation, J.W. Marriott Hotel. Tickets $60; 202/467-5799.
JUNE 21 -- 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.: Sports Fest/Family Picnic, Tucker Road Community Center, 1771 Tucker Rd., Fort Washington. 301/292-4203. Sponsored by Philippine American Foundation for Charities and the Philippine Festival Committee.
JUNE 24-28, JULY 1-5 -- 100 community-based Filipino Master Artists will be at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival on the Mall. June 27 is Filipino American Day, with performances by Filipino Americans. 202/357-2700.
JUNE 26 -- Lecture: "Conserving the Sulu-Sulawesi Seas: New Views From the Philippines." At noon in the National Museum of Natural History's Baird Auditorium.
JUNE 28 -- Rizal Day and Youth Awards. Honoring outstanding Filipino American youths of the Washington area. From 2 to 4 at the Philippine Embassy, 1600 Massachusetts Ave. NW. 301/942-8713.
THROUGH JULY 8 -- An exhibit highlighting the history of Filipino Americans in Hawaii (whose governor, Benjamin J. Cayetano, is of Philippine extraction) is on display in the State Department's C Street lobby. The exhibit, on loan from the Bishop Museum in Hawaii, is sponsored by the Asian Pacific Federal Foreign Affairs Council. For information and access to the exhibit, which is directly behind the lobby security desk, call Cora Foley, 202/647-9264. 2300 C St. NW (Metro: Foggy Bottom). 
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