Eldredge Gallery

Eulogy presented at Arlington United Methodist Church, Friday, 12th November, 2004 by Richard Azzaro

Our hearts go out to the family of Sergeant Eldredge. We, his friends and professional colleagues, share their bereavement in the limited ways that outsiders can.

A distinguished non-commissioned officer of the United States Army has passed away. Here the Army, in its ancient ways, expresses mourning.

Mourn we should, for a man whose solid mind and soldiering spirit touched each of us, has passed from our midst.

It is also fitting, however, that we here all of us, rejoice in his full life of unmatched accomplishment, now inscribed in the annals of the Army, and recorded in the living history of The Old Guard.

My friends, we have come together to commemorate Allen Eldredge, who uniquely embodied the American warrior Thos during the past five decades. Sergeant Eldredge was one professional soldier who, in his time, made a difference in his chosen life's work. He was, all his life, a force for the improvement of and maintenance of the highest standards in The Old Guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the Color Team in Honor Guard Company. He transformed both of these institutions that he served so well.

Sergeant Eldredge had a fire within him - but never expressed verbally - a consuming passion to foster progress in any responsibility that accrued to him. Mission by mission, from the double interment of World War II and Korean Unknowns to the epitome of standards at the nations most sacred military burial site, the Tomb of the Unknown soldier in Arlington National Cemetery. He brought both competence, which we all witnessed, and he brought deep caring which many did not know about.

The Army found in Sergeant Eldredge a breed of leader who could inspire an entire organization to pull itself up by the bootstraps. The Army found in him a breed of man prepared to fill the shoes of his predecessors. Indeed, the Army found him capable of teaching leaders of future generations to take his place, when their turn came - many of them are here today or are working there towards us from all over the country.

Many of us met and served with Sergeant Eldredge when we were very young. Life's experiences yet to unfold. Much of our understanding him and who and what we were becoming under his leadership also yet to unfold.

I would like to share some of that with you today. Throughout the years after I left the Tomb Guard, there were few if any events or decisions that I made that were not informed or influenced by what I had learned under and because of Sergeant Eldredge. And throughout this time while I was never disappointed, I never could put all of those years of experience together. Then several years after I graduated Law School, I was attending a training session. This very old judge was talking to us about the workplace and how we needed to understand that many come to the work place for different reasons.

He then began to talk about a man who approached a brick wall that was being erected by three bricklayers. They were about 30 yards a part, laying the same brick, same mortar, same tools - it was the same wall. As he approached, he asked the first man what he was doing. The bricklayer stopped, and addressed the man as follows: "why I am making a living, of course." He thanked him and moved to the next bricklayer. Same question, "Would you be so kind as to tell me what you are doing"? The bricklayer stopped, came down from his ladder and with superior pride said "Sir, I am practicing one of the oldest professions of civil society, I am a mason." He then moved on to the third bricklayer and again, the question: "Sir, would you tell me what you are doing"? The mason looked at him though eyes that revealed a fire and with a sweep of his arm, he said: "Sir, I am participating in the creation of a great Cathedral."

When that old judge finished that sentence, it was though I had been hit with a thunder clap. The training went on for another two hours but I didn't hear a word of it. Hundreds and thousands, of words, actions, orders, guard changes, burials, wreath layings, weapons checks, inspections, war stories, history lessons, came together as though a great giant instantly put an impossible puzzle together.

And there it was. It was the cathedral. It was always a cathedral. That's what Eldredge was about. He understood that we had been given the incredible honor of being trusted with something much larger than ourselves. That is what he embraced. It was a duty that called for incredible courage, a willingness to forsake much of the comforts of everyday life even the understanding of his everyday associates. Perfection, the only standard he ever knew separated him and drew him deeply into a unique world that few would accept much less understand. He had no time for those with puffed up pride and even less time for wage earners. Had he simply accepted this for himself, he would have been a success and the pride of the regiment. But he did not - he extended it to his men, even though many were too young to fully grasp what he was about. We knew we wanted to be Tomb Guards and we wanted to be the best. And we somehow sensed that we could trust him, especially when things got hard. That's all he needed and he took care of the rest.

He taught as he led. By precept and example. It was up close and personal. He was there. He was always there. Day or night, big job or small job. When you fell, literally and figuratively. Always there to encourage you to go on - to try, - always to try. Perfection was not a goal, it was a requirement. No one understood Tomb Guards like Sergeant Eldredge. Each their own person, yet bound by the common bond of our service to our country and what was happening to us as we were becoming Tomb Guards. He understood and taught us in subtle ways that it was not enough to embrace the mission. We had to somehow allow the mission to embrace us. And that required a special kind of person, a special kind of leadership.

He was fiercely proud of his work and equally so of his men. But it was not the kind of pride that issues from power or privilege, that is intended to increase ones own importance. It was the kind of pride that issues duty. The kind of pride that allows the mission to embrace you. He shunned the spotlight, even to the point of avoiding the accolades after a perfect ceremony or a special holiday. And he imparted that to his men. It was never about him or any one of us, it was always the cathedral and he would allow no distractions. He understood that he was to prepare those to follow him. He knew that we would all leave the Tomb some day, but he also knew that we would be Tomb Guards for life.

In that one moment, I realized that I had been trained by a truly great teacher - a truly great patriot. There is much that I owe this man. But the tings that I prize most is that because of him, I know when I am in the presence of a warrior, I know when I am in the presences of someone that loves his country, and most of all I know when I am in the presence of a Tomb Guard.

The Tomb Guards believe that soldiers never die until they are forgotten. Accordingly, we are committed to never forget. I will not say good-bye to Sgt Eldredge, because he is with us as long as we love one another, love our country, and accept nothing less than perfection for either. Look in to the eyes of the Cosby's, the Cardamon's, the March's, the Otis's, the Holder's, the Wibben's, his children and those others who have the fire to keep the cathedral. You will see him.

Many years ago, General Douglas MacArthur, spoke to the West Point cadets upon his acceptance of the prestigious Thayer Award. He spoke of duty, honor and country. In that talk, he said something that has a special meaning to us of the Old Guard. He said: "The long grey line has never failed us. Were we to do so, a million ghosts in olive drab, and brown khaki, and blue and grey would rise from their white crosses, thundering those magic words: Duty, Honor, Country."

I believe that today when we cross into the cemetery, those thousands of ghosts, in olive drab, in brown khaki and in blue and grey, will rise from their honored resting place thundering, "This is Sergeant Eldredge, he is a Honor Guard, he kept the vigil, he honored our memory and protected our remains. Well done Sergeant Eldredge. Well done Tomb Guard."

Sgt. Eldredge...

I thought about addressing this note to Allen. But, that somehow seems a bit disrespectful to me. I grew up knowing you as Sergeant Eldredge and here I am, near 70 and I can't think of you as anyone else.

Obviously, I write because your daughter let us all know that you are sick and probably will not get better. That bothers me a lot...not because you are now in a hospice but because I have waited until now to let you know you have had an important impact on my life. I should have told you that a long time ago. Then again, I never really told my father how much he taught me growing up and how much I really loved him either. That too bothers me and I wonder about myself and so many men like me that admire someone greatly and don't have the presence or ability to say so. Why is that?

Why is it we wait until its nearly check out time before we say it like we've felt it all of these years...or miss the opportunity all together? My father passed away 10 years ago and about all I ever said to him was "Thanks, dad." As the women of today would say with a shrug... "it's a man thing." That's no excuse or even a reason...we just don't do the right thing respect-wise about men that we care about and that's a damned shame.

So St. Eldredge, Thanks! You were an upstanding role model for all of us Tombies. It was a love hate relationship 45 years ago...as all Sergeants know better than their men. Today, I know probably better than even you...the hate part was pure youthful ignorance. The love part has always been understated. Take care old mentor of mine. You are a lucky guy to have such a fine daughter.

Smitty
aka Meredith Smith US 55637358
Second Relief (1958-60)

I received Richard's e-mail message on Tuesday night October 19th...in a hotel room in Arlington, Virginia. A cold, foggy night, drizzling rain...perfect for a quiet walk from Memorial Bridge to the Main Gate at Arlington National Cemetery…as close as I could get to the last place I stood beside Eldredge...on the plaza between the Memorial Amphitheatre and the Tomb.

On nights like this decades ago, we walked and stood our post and thought of many things.

Difficult...so far, impossible...to say them aloud without a tightness in my throat.

Eldredge is gone. I find it easier to write the words, but still impossible without a physical effect, a profound heaviness in my heart; and a sense of mental interference, as if my mind rebels against such use of my fingers, as if it refuses to believe I write the truth.

Post and Orders remain as directed. As a young man, those were words of reverence and responsibility, words of pomp and circumstance. Little did we know then, and shameful that I fully realize only now, that the man who taught me when and how to say those words, Eldredge, was teaching us day after day, by word and example, that honorable life itself is in those words.

Eldredge. It was our habit as young men to speak of him in that way...with no need to name his rank as part of his name...because speaking of him as "Eldredge" was speaking of him as the man he was, as the man who meant so much to us…meant so much to us as young men who aged to understand more each passing year. And as those years passed, understood how much he made of us. Eldredge...spoken with profound respect. Sometimes spoken with a tinge of trepidation, of anticipation, of assurance, but always profound respect. Eldredge. It was enough...all and everything necessary.

Eldredge is gone. True enough...gone from our physical side, but forever existing in us as part of who we are. And while we're capable of conscious thought, never gone.

Eldredge. Post and Orders...as he taught us by few words and many examples, to walk our post and order our lives... remain as directed.