Amid Tributes, Questions Arise
Iraq War Controversy Weighs Heavily on Memorial Day Moments

By Nick Miroff and Michael E. Ruane
Washington Post Staff Writers
Tuesday, May 29, 2007; A01

The debate over the Iraq war broke out along Arlington National Cemetery's Roosevelt Drive, in a sea of headstones before a gallery of the dead, just down the road from where President Bush had concluded his Memorial Day speech minutes before.

Three congressional interns -- hot, tired and in awe of the crowds and the pageantry -- were leaving, trying to sort through what it all meant. One, Julia Villamizar, a 20-year-old from Miami, said it was difficult for her to see U.S. soldiers in Iraq as "heroes." She admired them and didn't want them to die. But she did not see the Iraqis as enemies. "I guess I don't see the people in Iraq as villains," she said.

Just then, Claude Wilson, an insurance adjuster from New Mexico who had been walking by with his two grandsons, jumped in.

"I was your age during the Vietnam War," he told Villamizar. "I marched in peace marches. I'm not opposed to peace protests. But if someone is willing to put his life on the line for their country, they're a hero."

From Arlington Cemetery to the Mall ceremonies, those who were honoring the fallen of past wars wrangled over the merits of the conflict. But there were also other images:

Teenagers from a Toronto Jewish school thanking veteran John Gabersek, 87, who sat in the shade by the National World War II Memorial in his olive-drab Army tunic, his walker folded nearby.

The scrawled note left at the Korean War Veterans Memorial to veteran Houston Chapman: "You were the best dad anyone could want. . . . We miss you. Mother's doing fine."

An elderly veteran rising from his wheelchair in salute as wounded Iraq war veterans passed by on a float during the parade along Constitution Avenue.

And Sam Floberg, 29, a sergeant with the Army National Guard who lost much of his right leg last year during an ambush in Afghanistan, sitting in a wheelchair at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, saying he knows now that it is more than just names on a wall.

But the current war seemed to be on many minds.

At Arlington, Villamizar and Wilson were soon arguing the origins of the conflict, Sept. 11 and Saddam Hussein, and whether it was right for Americans to assert their cultural values in the Middle East. The back-and-forth continued for 15 minutes or so but never rose to angry tones.

As they set off on their separate ways, Villamizar stopped Wilson. "Wait," she said, "I want to get a picture with you."

Across the Potomac River, Bill Mulholland, 45, and his wife, Allison, 37, of Silver Spring, had brought their four children to the Mall to see the sights and mark the solemnity.

"I think people forget. . . . We've got the ability to protest," Bill Mulholland said as they stood near 17th Street and Constitution Avenue.

"And some of the things that come out of [Capitol] Hill and out of these people's mouths -- they would never be able to do that if we didn't have Memorial Day. So many people live for today and don't remember from whence we came."

Didi Lunceford of Riverside, Calif., had come to see for the first time the name of her brother, Jacob Ortiz, on the Wall. Ortiz, who was killed at Cu Chi by a sniper in 1967, was a Native American -- Hopi and Ute, she said. "He was born a warrior," she said, "a pride and honor to his people."

"I think on Memorial Day, when we are remembering those who served and those who died, the war today and whether that's right or wrong kind of takes a back seat," she said. "People ought to concentrate on the freedoms we do have: If you don't like the war, you can say so."

But Bonita Mulqueen of Bay Shore, N.Y., who attended midday events at the Wall, said she believes that Memorial Day and the war in Iraq cannot be entirely separated.

"It tears me apart," Mulqueen, 61, said as she stood with a friend, Vietnam veteran Luis Sanchez, 60. "This whole thing with Iraq just absolutely rips my heart out. It's like we were in Vietnam all over again. . . . There are still young people dying for nothing.

"But we've learned a very, very hard lesson," she said. "The soldiers that came home from Vietnam were spat on. Today, at least we have the sense of what we learned and what we did to them then to say, 'We're sorry you were there. Thank you for being there, because you had to be.' "

Aside from the debate, the sandal-clad tourists and the ear-splitting artillery salutes, there were quieter, more personal moments.

At Arlington Cemetery, John Brinkmann, a 24-year-old resident of Chaptico in St. Mary's County, carried a bouquet of six yellow roses to place at the grave of his grandfather, Army Col. Leland J. Holland, who was one of the captives during the Iran hostage crisis in 1979.

Brinkmann, who served in Iraq with the Army's 82nd Airborne Division, said he remembered his grandfather's stories about the huge welcome he and other hostages received when they returned home.

Brinkmann wasn't sure if that sort of unity still exists in the country. "To the average person, [Memorial Day] is a day off from work and that's it," he said. "But it's not just a holiday for barbecues and sales. There are thousands of soldiers who no one remembers, and all they have here is a small white tablet."

In Section 60 of the cemetery, where soldiers who died in Iraq and Afghanistan are buried, the Davis family of Gaithersburg was making sure that every headstone had a small rock on it -- a sign that someone had been there to visit.

"One of the things most parents fear is that people will get on with their lives and forget," said Paula Davis, whose 19-year-old son, Army Pfc. Justin Ray Davis, was killed in Afghanistan in June. "Memorial Day didn't have the same meaning it does now."

Gina Barnhurst of Severna Park sat on a blanket spread across the grave of her son, Lance Cpl. Eric W. Herzberg, 20. "It's really strange to see all these people," she said. "It's usually just us moms."

Every Sunday, Barnhurst drives to Arlington and writes her son a letter. He was killed in Iraq in October, so it was also Barnhurst's first Memorial Day since the death.

"I'm so proud of him," she said, "and so sad. And I'm honored that he's here, that he's honored as a hero."

Staff writer Jackie Spinner contributed to this report.