Subscribe
JOINT BASE MYER-HENDERSON HALL, Va. — The first time I stepped onto the black rubber mat as a Tomb Guard, the world around me seemed to fade into silence. Tourists from all over the world stood only a few feet away, but their voices soon dissolved as they approached. All I heard was my own breathing, the clicks of my heels echoing across the plaza, and the sound of my rifle moving shoulder to shoulder. I stood in silence, every muscle tight with discipline. Every 21 seconds, I took 21 steps, rifle on my shoulder, then faced the city. In that moment, I understood that:
“My dedication to this sacred duty is total and whole-hearted.”
The shift I remember most clearly was my first solo walk. Training had built me for this: the endless hours of studying nearly 17 pages of history about the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and Arlington National Cemetery, memorizing, polishing, marching, and perfecting movements until they were instinctive. But nothing prepared me for the weight of stepping into that role alone. The mat stretched out in front of me, surrounded by the white marble of the tomb and furrowed brows. The November air was cold enough to numb my fingers. The wind pushed lightly against my cheek, but I did not blink. This moment was not about me; it was about the unknowns. As I took my first 21 steps, line 6 of the Sentinel’s Creed echoed through my mind:
"My standard will remain perfection."
The creed had become more than words I memorized. It had become my duty, my honor, my every movement. I repeated its phrases silently as I walked. Every step carried the weight of those whose identities remain unknown but whose sacrifices are eternal. When I turned to face the crowd, I caught the eyes of many veterans looking up at me. They did not look away once and watched in silence. It reminded me of why precision mattered, not for applause, but for teaching silent respect. I kept my eyes forward, not allowing even a flicker of distraction. The rifle rested firmly on my shoulder, and the metal felt cold, steady, and familiar.
"In the responsibility bestowed on me, never will I falter."
During my walk, the sun dipped behind a cloud. A shadow fell across the marble, and the temperature dropped quickly. The cold crept into my fingers, but I did not shift, fidget, or react. Discomfort was irrelevant. The creed reminded me:
"Through the years of diligence and praise and the discomfort of the elements, I will walk my tour in humble reverence to the best of my ability."
Each 21 seconds felt longer than the last. Twenty-one seconds. Twenty-one steps. Turn. Lock. Pause. It became meditation. A conversation between me and the unknown warrior beneath the marble.
A moment during that walk still stays with me. A rainstorm suddenly swept across the plaza, beating down on everyone. Ordinarily, someone might run for cover, but I stayed frozen in position and those who watched stayed with me. That discipline wasn’t pride; it was reverence. My role was not to react to nature or tourists or discomfort. My role was to maintain vigilance.
"It is he who commands the respect I protect, his bravery that made us so proud."
When the relief guard finally arrived and the ceremony concluded, I marched off the mat for the last time that day. Only then did I allow myself a breath of release. Inside the guard quarters, I removed my gloves. My hands were cold and stiff, but I felt nothing but quiet pride. Being a Tomb Guard changed the way I view responsibility, honor, and silence. On that first solo walk, I realized that perfection isn’t about being flawless, it’s about dedicating yourself fully to something greater than yourself. The creed lived within every step I took:
"Surrounded by well meaning crowds by day, alone in the thoughtful peace of night, this soldier will in honored glory rest under my eternal vigilance."
“The Sentinels Creed,” Simon, 1971.
And on that day, for the first time, I truly felt what “eternal vigilance” meant.
| Date Taken: | 12.11.2025 |
| Date Posted: | 12.13.2025 11:39 |
| Story ID: | 554100 |
| Location: | ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA, US |
| Web Views: | 17 |
| Downloads: | 0 |
This work, Standing Watch at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, by SSG Oscar Toscano, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
