And that will be enough

“Then sha l l ou r names, Famil iar in his mouth as household words Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red” (Shakespeare, from St. Crispin’s Day speech in Henry V).

May is the month of Memorial Day. At graves of unknown soldiers, on ancient battlefields, in the silent homes of bereft families, in homes of those who survived and returned, hearts will echo the emotions of King David at the deaths of King Saul and Prince Jonathan: “Your glory lies slain upon your high places. You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields. How the mighty have fallen in the midst of battle!” Were they correct who said, “Then shall our names . . . Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red”?

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is a monument that serves as a resting place for unidentified American soldiers who died in combat. Starting after World War I, unidentified remains from major wars have been symbolically buried in the sarcophagus, where they serve as a reminder of the sacrifices made in war by countless unknown soldiers. They are nameless heroes who symbolize the unity and sacrifi ce of all Americans in war, who fell from the skies, sank beneath the waves or perished on the plains.

The tomb is located in Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia. On Armistice Day, Nov. 11, 1921, President Harding held a state funeral to bury the unknown soldier and honor the sacrifices of all warriors. Today there are three people buried in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, one each for World War I, World War II, and Korea. The crypt for Vietnam is now vacant because DNA was able to identify the interred remains and return them to family.

Since 1926, the tomb has been guarded 24 hours a day every day of the year. Guards of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier are volunteers from the 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment, known as the “Old Guard.” Their barracks is beneath the Tomb. It is a rare honor to serve as a Tomb guard.

While researching a book about one of the first frigates in the U.S. Navy, Chris Dickon stumbled on a burial site in Canada where 200 American casualties from the War of 1812 had been buried, and apparently, forgotten. “I looked at that cemetery and I went, ‘Well, wait a minute, if these Americans are buried here in Halifax, Nova Scotia, that nobody knew about, where are Americans buried that most people don’t know about?’ And then I started looking.” Since then, Dickon has cataloged the burials of roughly 3,600 of America’s war dead who aren’t in official overseas U.S. cemeteries and not remembered.

What is it we do remember on Memorial Day? In the film, when Private Ryan is informed that other soldiers died so he might live, he asks the one important question, “What were their names?” But history forgets the names. All names, soon or late, dissolve in the mist of time. They are those who silently and somberly chant, in the lines of John McCrae, “We are the Dead. Short days ago. We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In Flanders fields.”

What we do remember is that there truly are those for whom ideals, honor, loved ones and love of country are worth their very lives. “Greater love has no one than this, that one should lay down his life for his friends” (John 15). Perhaps if our own lives echo this truth, it will suffice as a monument for those whose names we have forgotten. And that will be enough.