Washington

I was living in barracks on-Post Fort Myer right close to the Cemetery, which was about a quarter mile of open land to the east. It was after dark and I headed for Arlington. It was to be a bright moon-lit night and I jumped the low stone wall and went into the cemetery.

It was an incredible experience walking through the mazes of moonlight-lit white grave stones, row on row and column on column. I was in there two or three hours, tramping over hills and down into misty valleys and through wooded glens. At one point I was near the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, so close I could hear the clicking heels of the guards, as they did their reverent sentry duty. I could not see them in the near bright-as-day moonlight, but the sound carried through the still crystalline night air. I moved away from there. At another point I heard dogs in the distance. I thought it must be guard dogs, and wondered about the legality of my being there.

All my life I had disregarded property rights in favor of my individual experience of the ambiance, atmosphere and spirituality of places that were private. I was a great fence jumper. Someone told me after having told them of what I had done, that it was very illegal to go into the cemetery after dark and it was good thing I didn't get caught. When I heard the dogs in the distance I did move in the opposite direction. I was fairly romantic in those days and I had read some civil war literature. With this recalled military romanticism, the shimmering moonlit air, rolling grass hills, and miles of grave stones, I imagined that even in death, these stones were ghosts of soldiers marching-ever over graveyard hill and dale.

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