The Sacredness of Service
The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is one of the most sacred monuments in the United States. It symbolizes the honor and fidelity of those who served and sacrificed for the republic—particularly the untold stories of men and women who gave their lives without recognition, and whose final resting places, in many cases, remain unknown. Watching the changing of the guard at the Tomb is eerily overwhelming because of its simplicity and constancy. No matter the weather or the turbulence of daily events, the ritual continues, as if to remind us that a grateful nation must always remember the sacrifices made on its behalf.
In moments when confidence in our leadership falters, the Tomb provides a measure of solace. Even as the Trump Administration demeans institutions and misuses the power entrusted to it, the Tomb stands as a reminder of what our best looks like—quiet professionalism, fidelity to duty, and service without expectation of reward.
The Tomb means different things to different people. The literature surrounding it explains much, but it also invites reflection shaped by lived experience. To me, it represents the constancy of duty and the honor of serving a country grounded in a Constitution that begins with the words “We the People.”
I swore an oath to that Constitution, not to a political leader or an administration. There is no better way to appreciate the weight of that oath than to observe the precision and solemnity of the guards who watch over the Tomb—individuals who embody discipline, restraint, and lawful service.
That oath matters because it defines both what service members are required to do—and what they must never be asked to do. We are trained to follow lawful orders. We are equally bound to reject unlawful ones. Asking members of the Armed Services to violate the law, to carry out acts for political theater, or to pursue personal grudges is not “toughness”. It is a betrayal of everything the Tomb represents and of those who gave what Abraham Lincoln called “the last full measure of devotion.”
I strongly disagree with how the Trump Administration has used and treated the military, particularly in domestic deployments and in operations in the Caribbean and surrounding regions. Too often, military force has been wielded by fiat, papered over with thin legal justifications, and accompanied by rhetoric that glorifies violence rather than responsibility. Hearing senior civilian leaders boast about striking boats or killing suspected criminals—without proof, due process, or remorse—is profoundly disturbing to those who spent their careers upholding the law and protecting life.
Such conduct does lasting harm. It places military professionals in morally impossible positions and inflicts what is known as moral injury—the psychological and ethical damage that occurs when individuals are compelled to act against their core values. Moral injury ruins lives. It degrades readiness. And it corrodes the trust between the Armed Services and the people they are sworn to protect.
Those who have served, and those who continue to serve, have always prided themselves on professionalism and values-based leadership that prioritizes service over self-interest. That is how we were trained, and why many of us devoted decades of our lives to protecting America’s coasts, saving lives at sea, and ensuring the safety of our communities and industries. To witness that tradition cheapened for political gain is a daily embarrassment—not just to veterans, but to the country itself.
The Tomb helps me through moments like these. It reminds me that our republic was built by women and men who stubbornly did their duty despite danger, fatigue, and suffering. They endured violence, terror, and anguish to stay on mission and complete their goals. Many were never recovered. Many remain unknown. That level of valor and fidelity is what elevates the Tomb to its revered status. Despite what nature—both human and meteorological—throws at it, the Tomb stands, the guard changes, and remembrance and service continue.
The Trump Administration will likely continue to denigrate institutions and misuse the military. Still, I take heart in the belief that the values embodied by the Tomb—sacrifice, decency, and constitutional loyalty—will endure. But endurance alone is not enough. As citizens, we have a responsibility to object when power is abused and to demand better of those who wield it. We owe that much to the service members who still stand watch—and to the unknown Americans whose remains are guarded at the Tomb, even now.