The Battlefield Run -- At Gettysburg

We had arrived, we had met our friends from Kansas (some of whom just happened to be in the room next to us), and it was time to get registered.  July 5 … Tuesday, the first day of the Women on Wheels Ride In.

Awwww.  I love our Sylvia.

Rockin’ Rita got registered and as it was her first Ride In, the bell sounded.  It was cool … and it wasn’t long before there were others, maybe a half dozen or so in the time we spent in the registration room.  While Ride Ins are usually not that big, maybe 300-plus a few, that’s a good thing.  It allows you to meet and mingle a lot.  Sure do love that.

Yep.  I'm in.

Ring that bell.  We've got a newbie.

The day was spent off the bikes, except to find food as we didn’t want to eat at the hotel.  It felt good to take a break.  We wandered around the vendor booths, we attended a couple of meetings.  It was a laid back day, and I certainly was appreciative. 

And where was Rabbit Ears?  Not at the meetings or vendors.  The only thing he cared about was being in the pool.  In fact, we had just gotten registered at the center yesterday afternoon when he took off to the room, got changed and was in the pool before we even got there.  It was like a bag of clothing had exploded, leaving in its wake a scattering of socks, boots and clothes all over.  I was thinking he’d have webs growing between his toes, and fins coming out of his back.  Atlantis Man?

That evening there was a function down by the lake.  We had to walk, going past a Noah’s Ark.  There were what I took to be plaster animals, and of course, it needed to be documented. 

I don't know how this ark ever held all those animals. 

Two by two.

What a face.

It was fun at the WOW event, with the states all getting to shout out when their names were mentioned.  Alaska may not have had but three of us (Smudge, Rockin’ Rita and me ... Rabbit Ears was at the pool), but we were loud enough to be heard. 

Last year this was the first WOW Frog Princess, crowned and sceptered.

This year a new one was crowned. 

 

Renewing acquaintances.  Catt from Beaver Dam, Wisconsin.

What did you say?

What I didn’t realize was they’d be handing out 20-year pins, and I got mine.  I’ve been a member a long time … how time flies.  And I’m glad I’ve started attending Ride Ins as I’ve made some very good friends along the way.

How cool is that?  Now I know who I am.

The big surprise, and best part of the evening, was finding out that a photo taken of our Arctic Fox chapter, by photographer Shiela Mahaney was going to be the cover photo of the next Women on Wheels magazine.  Woo hoo.   It was a great photo and I’m glad she got some credit … and published.  And our fairly-new chapter also got some great recognition.

WOW!!!

On Wednesday, July 6, Smudge, Rabbit Ears, Rockin’ Rita and I headed off to Arlington National Cemetery.  We wanted to see the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns, but a second mission was to find Rockin’ Rita’s dad’s grave. 

The day was hot, and showed no signs of getting anything but hotter.  We rode in on an Interstate, with who knows how many other vehicles, and ended up going round in circles trying to find the cemetery.  We’d stop and recalculate.  We’d stop at a gas station.  We asked a number of people, some that didn’t even know a thing about it.  What? 

During our gas station stop I did find my street.

Finally.  We saw the Marine Corps War Memorial, and I knew that was a “must have” photo for Biker Bill, the “Once a Marine, Always a Marine” guy I live with.  But we had problems getting back to it.  Up hills, down hills.  Stop and go.  It was frustrating to know the memorial was close to where we were, but we couldn’t see it, or find it again.  I wouldn’t give up.  Eventually, the memorial again came into view and we stopped.  By now we were all red-faced and sweating in an unladylike manner.



The Marine Corps War Memorial was built in 1954 to honor U.S. Marines in World War II.  However, while it depicts one of the most famous incidents of that war, it's dedicated to all Marines who have given their lives in defense of the United States since 1775.  (This one's for you, Biker Bill.)

From there it should have been an easy shot to the cemetery, but it wasn’t.  We tried everything.  GPS, looking at street names. Asking directions again.  And being hot didn’t make it any easier.  Smudge was ready to bag it.  To help a little bit, we asked Rabbit Ears if he’d ride on Rockin’ Rita’s trike to lighten the load for his mom.  Being the upstanding youngster he is, he agreed, although prior he wanted nothing to do with a three-wheeler.  Turns out, he didn’t think that ride was at all bad. 

We eventually found the cemetery.  Rockin’ Rita’s GPS got us there.  We’d been only a turn away from it.  We knew it as we’d tried to get in a gate only to be refused entry because it was a construction gate.  Maddening.  Frustrating.  Annoying.  Exasperating.  By now it was late, and we had reached the cemetery where we’d need to do some walking at the height of the heat of the day.  Ugh!!!

Beautifully manicured lawns, pristine headstones lying amongst old trees make for a lovely final resting place for our nation's fallen.

The visitor center pointed us in the right direction to the Tomb of the Unknown.  In addition to those buried at the Tomb, more than 4,000 other unidentified service members are interred at Arlington National Cemetery, many which are from the Civil War.

In 1926 Congress appropriated funds to complete the Tomb.  It took 75 men one year to quarry more than 50 tons of marble block from Marble, Colorado.  The seven pieces of marble were placed over the crypt in December 1931.  Carving the marble took several more months.

During the summer months the guard changes every 30 minutes.  During the winter, it changes on the hour.  We had to hurry.  It was so worth watching.  It’s serious.  It’s ceremonious. It’s subdued.  No one is to speak or make a noise. 

21 steps either direction.  The number 21 was chosen because it symbolizes the highest military honor -- the 21-gun salute.

21 seconds facing east.  21 seconds facing north.  Then 21 steps down the mat to the other end, to repeat the process.  After each turn the sentinel executes a "shoulder-arms" movement to place the weapon on the shoulder closest to the visitors, signifying that the sentinel stands between the tomb and any possible threat.

"Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God."  The Tomb of the Unknown is guarded 24/365, in any weather by Tomb Guard sentinels.  They are all volunteers, must possess an unblemished military record and be between 5 feet, 10 inches and 6 feet, 4 inches tall, with a proportionate weight and build.  An interview and a two-week trial determine a volunteer's capability to train as a tomb guard.

We watched.  I understood why it changes every 30 minutes.  Through the lens of my camera, I could see sweat dripping off the guard’s ear.  I could understand that.  The uniforms are dark, the heat’s intense, and there was no breeze.



21 seconds.  Plenty of time for me to note the sweat dripping from his right ear.

Then there was noise.  A loud noise.  I turned to my left.  Across the marble steps lay a woman.  She’d collapsed from the heat and fallen down the steps to land in a heap.  A man standing next to her tripped and nearly fallen over her, adding to the confusion.  Security ran over to her.  There was the sound of “hush,” “be quiet.”  The soldier never blinked an eye. 

The woman was helped away and down into a restroom to recuperate.  The soldier continued his pacing, his pausing, his changing of his weapon to always keep it between the outside and the tomb. 

At the 30-minute mark, two other soldiers appeared.  One would be the new guard, the other would check the weapons and make sure all was secure and the change completed with pomp and ceremony.  It was an honor to be there, seeing something that seems to be so patriotic to me. 

The Relief Commander announces the change, conducts a white-glove inspection of the weapons, meets the retiring sentinel and orchestrates the change of the sentinels.

It's quite a ceremony with the relief taking their place on the mat and the commander and relieved sentinel marching to the edge of the area.

The new sentinel and commander exchange orders and the commander retires. 

From there we walked and found Rockin’ Rita’s dad.  It was sad to have to be a part of something like this, but I think we were all glad to share such an emotional time with her, to support her, to share tears, to be her friends, her sisters.  If we had not bonded before, it would have happened at this moment.  We love you, Rockin’ Rita.

Then it was time to move along.  As we walked, there were funeral processions taking place.  We saw two, and heard later that there were 25 taking place that day. 

This procession included white horses and a flag-covered coffin.

In this procession I noticed that only half of the horses are carrying men, the horses on the left.  It turns out that the others are saddled, but are left unmounted, a tradition that began in the early horse-drawn artillery days when one horse of each pair was mounted and the other carried provisions and feed.

A momentary break on our walk back to the visitor's center.

A final photo at the cemetery. 

We geared up and rode out.  We’d thought riding into the city was bad.  It was nothing compared to the ride out and the Virginia/D.C. traffic.  Yep.  Rush hour.  Thousands of vehicles rushing, dodging others, bobbing and weaving, jockeying for a position one better than where they’d been before.  And it was even hotter.  Stop and go.  Stop and go.  We finally moved into the HOV lane, but even our eyebrows were sweating. 

Smudge stopped under an overpass.  She was suffering from the heat.  We gave her all the water we had, although it wasn’t enough.  We added Propel to it for the electrolytes.  She was dizzy, and we were hoping the short break in a small piece of shade would help.  The traffic was horrible and there we were, stuck under the overpass, waiting and hoping we could get her through this and feeling well enough to go on.

This wasn't even the worst looking of the traffic.  It looks pretty reasonable here.

Smudge felt well enough to try to get back, and we did.  But it was frightening because we were in the middle of the rush hour and the heat of the day.  It wasn’t a good ride back.  But we made it to the Harley shop just as the barbecue was finishing up.  Yay.  Food and drink.

And there's always room for ice cream.  Group hugs ... the best kind although Ruth hates hugs.  So who gets hugs?  Her!!

Yet, our day wasn’t over.  We’d all signed up to go on a ghost walking tour with the Kansas girls (and one guy, Steve). 

Yep, we're ready for the ghost tour.  Whoops.  We're in front of the wine tasting shop.

Here's the right sign.

 

Our lovely tour guide.  She was funny.  She knew lots of history but would move like a teenager, back and forth, up and down.  It was fun to watch, and she was exceptionally personable.

It was fun, but by now my feet were complaining.  I didn’t see any ghosts.  Rockin’ Rita felt things.  I smelled things.  Who knows what they were?  And then our day was over after dipping into the pool.  It had been a great one in some ways; a not-so-great one in others.  But it’s all part of the adventure.

There was one other piece to the day.  Rabbit Ears has never complained, not one time, about being wet, being hot, about anything.  Why, I believe he’s a Bonafide!!!!  That’s the four Bonafides.  And personally?  I’m proud to be a part of this group of exceptional, adventurous people. 

On Thursday, July 7, I discovered after washing my hair, that in the heat of the day before my temporary, wash-out color had gotten baked in, and was no longer temporary.  I was a true blue-hair.  Haha!!!  Not a problem.  I love it.

There's my blue hair.

Smudge and Rabbit Ears were going on a battlefield bus tour.  And an outing to ride horseback into the battlefields had been arranged by the Kansas girls and included Rockin’ Rita and me.  It was going to be fun, as long as it wasn’t too hot.  We rode our bikes to where the trail and ride would begin. 

It was rather warm and I tried a new way of cool down.

The organization we went with only takes small groups of eight, and that was the first indication this would be something great. 

This was Rockin' Rita's first time on a horse. 

I believe she rocked it.

My horse, Chance.  All of the horses are tall, and aren't nags.  They were a pleasure to ride, as they easily and willingly responded to commands given.  Laurinda and her husband own horses currently, and they know a good one.  These were good ones.

Maybe Chance doesn't want to take a chance with me?

We were told that only 1 percent of tourists do this type of tour.  It was fun, interesting and informative.  Our guide took us on the very trails the soldiers rode.  We saw the places the camps were set up, where General Lee had his field office, where the battles took place, the hills where the soldiers followed along as they marched, some being driven back, some coming forward to capture it all in the end, and claiming a win.  The battle was explained with how many men, where they started from, the directions they came here, the route (some of it on Highway 15).  In the end, Lee captured everything.

And the battlefields.  It was interesting to know that the ridges and rises are what can win or lose a battle, and it did.  There's too much history in this part of the country to take in on a single tour. 

When looking from some of the area where the field offices were set up, you realize they had a complete view of the fields, and strategies were planned around what they could see.  You could only imagine the sounds of the battles, the smoke, the smell of powder.  The screams of the men who were wounded, the smell of the blood of the dying and dead.  It is a chilling story, and yet such a huge part of our history.  And, it all could have changed based upon the outcome of a battle.  Our America has such a history, and there's not nearly enough brain to take in all of it.  But I sure do love tours such as these with some adventure tossed in for good measure.

 Some of the buildings that were here then are here now.  They played a part in the battles fought and yet, have survived.

 

There were 60 cannon set up on the ridge.  The cannons have replica bottoms, but the barrels are real.  They're numbered to show where and when they were made.

This is a very special place, and it was interesting to be riding over the same farm lanes, on horses as most of them did.  It gives you a chill to know you are there, where they were.  You’re not a part of the history, but a part of its future.  Wow.

And there we are, Ruth, Rita, me, Amy, Steve and Laurinda, and our guide.

As we left I lagged a bit behind to take photos of some of the cannon and statues along the road.  I also visited Soldier's Cemetery.  This is beautiful country, and I should have made more time to spend here. 

The cannons are beautiful, with many having plaques describing what they are and the battles they were used in.

There were a lot of statues, and I'm not really sure what some of them signified.

Tonight was banquet night, the final night of the Ride In and the night we’d also say goodbye to some our friends as many leave quite early the next morning.  The evening included dinner, announcements, and annual and Ride In awards.  Alaska scored big … distance, mileages.  Both Rockin' Rita and Rabbit Ears got two. 

Recipients and the current Frog Princess.

Yep.  We be the Bonafides!!!  And the Battlefield Run ends.