World War II Memorial

Listen first. Before you look at anything, listen to the water. Jets of spray rise from the oval pool in front of you, and their sound fills the open plaza. It is a steady, soft roar, and it covers the traffic of the city. Underfoot, the paving is pale granite, warm in the sun and cool in the shade. Around you, a ring of stone pillars stands in silence. This is the National World War II Memorial, and it asks you to slow down.

You are standing on the National Mall, at the eastern end of the long Reflecting Pool. Turn one way and the Washington Monument rises behind you. Turn the other way, and far down the water sits the Lincoln Memorial. The memorial sits in the space between them. That placement was deliberate, and it was also controversial. Some critics felt that nothing should interrupt this open view. The designers answered by keeping the plaza sunken and low, so the long line of sight stays open.

The idea for the memorial came from an ordinary person. A veteran named Roger Durbin, who had served in the war, asked his congresswoman, Marcy Kaptur of Ohio, why there was no national memorial to his generation. She took up the cause. Congress authorized the project in 1993. The design came from the architect Friedrich Saint Florian. The memorial opened to visitors in the spring of 2004 and was formally dedicated that Memorial Day weekend.

Here is a surprise for many visitors. The memorial took so long that many of the people it honors did not live to see it. Roughly sixteen million Americans served in uniform during the war. By the time the granite was in place, those veterans were in their late seventies and eighties. Many came here in wheelchairs, with their children and grandchildren beside them. Some still come today, on organized trips known as Honor Flights, which bring veterans to Washington to see their memorial.

Now look at the pillars. There are fifty-six of them, arranged in two half-circles around the pool. Each one carries a name: a state, a territory, or the District of Columbia. These are the places that were part of the United States at the time of the war. That is why you will find Alaska and Hawaii, which were territories then. You will also find the Philippines, Guam, Puerto Rico, American Samoa, and the Virgin Islands. Each pillar holds two bronze wreaths, one of oak and one of wheat.

The oak and the wheat have meaning. The oak stands for the nation's industrial strength. The wheat stands for its farms and its fields. The war was not only fought by soldiers. Factories built ships, planes, and tanks at enormous speed. Farms fed armies across the world. The pillars are linked by a carved bronze rope, which shows the states bound together in a shared effort. Walk along the ring, and see if you can find your own state, or a place that matters to you.

At the north and south ends of the plaza stand two tall arches. One is marked Atlantic. The other is marked Pacific. They represent the two great theatres of the war, one fought across Europe and North Africa, the other across the islands and waters of Asia and the Pacific. Step inside an arch and look up. Four bronze eagles hold a laurel wreath high above your head. Then look down. Words in the floor celebrate victory on land, at sea, and in the air.

Now walk to the western side of the plaza, toward the Lincoln Memorial. Here you will find the Freedom Wall. It is covered with gold stars — 4,048 of them. Each star represents one hundred Americans who died in the war. Together they stand for more than four hundred thousand lives. In front of the wall, a short line is carved in stone: Here we mark the price of freedom. Many people stop here longer than anywhere else.

The gold star has a history of its own. During the war, families with a son or daughter in service hung a small flag in their window, marked with a blue star. If that person was killed, the family replaced the blue star with a gold one. Neighbours walking past would know, without a word, that this home had lost someone. The wall takes that private sign of grief and multiplies it into a field of light.

On the way in, along the ceremonial entrance from Seventeenth Street, you passed a series of bronze relief panels. There are twenty-four of them, created by the sculptor Raymond Kaskey. They show the war in ordinary moments. Workers in a factory. A medic with a wounded man. Soldiers jumping from a landing craft. A couple saying goodbye. Many visitors walk straight past them toward the fountains. They are worth a slow second look, because the faces are full of small human detail.

Here is a detail that almost everyone misses. Somewhere on this memorial, carved into the stone, is a small cartoon face peering over a wall, with a long nose and two hands gripping the edge. This is Kilroy. During the war, American soldiers drew him everywhere they went, often with the words Kilroy was here. The doodle became a running joke across the world. Two hidden Kilroys appear on the memorial, tucked out of sight. Finding them is a quiet game many visitors enjoy.

The memorial changes with the hour. In the morning, the low sun lights the eastern faces of the pillars and the water looks silver. At midday, the plaza can be bright and hot, because there is little shade. After dark, lights come up beneath the fountains and along the stone, and the gold stars on the Freedom Wall catch the glow. On Memorial Day and Veterans Day, wreaths and flowers often appear at the base of the pillars.

Before you leave, stand still for one more moment by the edge of the pool. Feel the fine spray drift across your face when the wind turns. Look past the Freedom Wall, down the long water, to Lincoln in his marble hall. Then look back toward the Washington Monument. You are standing between two earlier chapters of the American story, inside a third. As you walk away, notice how quickly the sound of the fountains fades... and how the city returns.