Is there an unknown soldier on the family tree?

It was a beautiful, warm and humid day in June at Arlington National Cemetery. We had toured the cemetery fields that were lined in sections with the headstones of those who had given their all.

Rows and rows of headstones were seen at great distances there.

Suddenly, the silence was broken with the sound of, “Clack, clack, clack” coming from the taps on the patent leather shoes as the guard, dressed in full ceremonial uniform, marched with weapon and fixed bayonet in his right hand.

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