SLIDESHOW: Wall of Honor
In the run up to a holiday weekend defined by many Americans as a time for storewide sales, outdoor barbecues and a day off work, the true meaning of Memorial Day was on full display at Virginia's state Capitol today.
Under the wilting heat of a brilliant afternoon, crisply dressed uniformed representatives from all branches of the U.S. military observed the time-honored rituals for the Attorney General's "Wall of Honor" ceremony commemorating the 184 Virginians who have died in the global war on terrorism:
The Pledge of Allegiance. The roll call of the fallen. The 21-gun salute. The fly-over. Taps.
The signs of sacrifice and courage they were assembled to honor were less visible, but arguably more powerful.
There was Sgt. 1st Class Luis Morales, recipient of the Purple Heart, Bronze Star and Silver Star. He underwent 22 surgeries for his war wounds from serving in Afghanistan and was expected to attend in a wheelchair. When recognized by Attorney General William C. Mims, Morales rose from his chair and stood on his own.
There were young children without fathers, innocently tugging at their mothers' dresses during the speeches by the generals and politicians. A gathering of incomplete families -- their status marked only by where they were seated and plain white nametags with small type that read "Family of . . . "
Behind them stood an informal color guard of bikers -- veterans themselves with the scars of their service in a previous war written on their weathered faces and the political patches sewn into sleeveless jeans jackets. Each clutched a white pole flying a pristine American flag.
"Americans love to celebrate," said Mims, rattling off the familiar occasions that mark the American calendar and prompt fireworks and revelry.
"Memorial Day is the one day when we do not celebrate. When we pause -- when we honor those who died so that we can be free."
Started three years ago by then-Attorney General Bob McDonnell, the office has a "Wall of Honor" in the lobby of its building on 900 Main Street devoted to Virginia's fallen.
"Every name of than wall testifies that freedom is not free," Mims told the crowd of more than 400 people. "In fact, it is more costly than most of us will ever know."
Ron Ault drove from Bethesda, Ohio with his wife, Debbie, to see the wall and attend yesterday's ceremony. His 29-year-old son, Sgt. Jesse Ault, who was based out of Roanoke, was killed April 9, 2008 in Iraq.
"Gone But Not Forgotten" was the inscription on the brown camouflage T-shirt he and the rest of his family wore.
"I've got two sons," said the 56-year-old veteran, who spent three months of his military service in Guam during the Vietnam War unloading the remains of American soldiers killed in action. "He was my youngest.
"He was my best friend."
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