Greetings. I just got back from Washington, DC. Cupcake and I gathered with the faithful of our Veterans Legal Group to absorb new ideas on how to whup the VA at their own poker game. We left early so we’d have time to visit my father who is parked across the river on the front lawn of Mary Anna Randolph Lee (nee Custis). Mary, of course, was the wife of Lt. General Robert E. Lee. Seems the Union was so miffed at them deciding to throw in with the south that they declared eminent domain over the estate and started burying their war dead there.

 My dad is buried down in Section 60, #8658 right near the intersection of Bradley and McArthur Drive. Section 60 is generally associated with the Persian Gulf War. Dad’s gravesite is right on the edge of the the majority of Afstan and Iraq casualties. It’s a 14 -acre square known as the “Saddest Acre in America.” I reckon I second that emotion.

If you all are ever in the neighborhood, why, sashay on over and offer your respects. I’d be mighty obliged if you do. We’ll be back some time next Spring to bury his wife (my stepmother) Vivian on the other side of the tombstone as is customary. She passed last September but, as you know, getting a date for the caisson and horses from VA’s Cemetery Commission takes about as long as getting a TBI claim done these days.

Where Heroes are remembered

I disremembered how far a hike it was from the Visitor Engagement Center where they make you enter now. Consequently, Cupcake wore the wrong footwear and ended up with some nasty blisters on her heels. When we buried Dad, we came down from the Fort Lee Post Chapel where the service was held. It’s a lot shorter but because of terrorist threats nowadays, we have to go through the metal detector. Seems that’s becoming more and more a problem nowadays. Too bad they didn’t make everyone go through one to attend Charlie Kirk’s get together out in Utah this week or he’d still be alive.

Funny thing was the last time I went to ANC back in February 2018, I’d planned on putting an airline bottle of Johnny Black in front of his tombstone but got busted at the metal detector. I guess there’s a no booze rule inside the wire.

Cupcake

Yesterday, the day after our conferences concluded, we went down to the Wall to say hi to a few of my buds. Turns out one of Deb’s classmates (Larry L. Fincher) from her high school was etched into the wall as well. Since I’m pretty forgetful at times, we didn’t do any rubbings of names. I’d probably misplace them for posterity anyway. What the Hey? A picture is worth a thousand of them.

Major General Bob Worley, my dad’s replacement as Vice Commander of 7th AF. Shot down by a SAM up north of  Da Nang 7/23/1968. His son and I went to school together.

Capt. Park Bunker Raven 23 shot down and executed while surrendering with his GIB near the Plain des Jarres 12/30/1970

Lt. Charles “Chuck” Engle Raven 26 2/22/1971 somewhere between Alternate and Wattay (L 08)

From there we hiked over to the Lincoln Memorial and wrecked Deb’s feet some more. I haven’t been in there since I was a Cub Sprout back in 1959 on a field trip with Den 4. It brings back lots of memories. I was born and raised in DC, 7 Corners and Annandale. Seems Dad kept drawing the Short straw and getting assigned to Fort Five Sides again and again.

For He Who Shall Have Borne the Battle…

I love Washington. It’s a thrill a minute with statues and memorials to everything. On another outing when I was a Cub Scout, we took a magic marker and ran up the steps of the Wash. Monument. On about the 59th floor we three Stephen Sheehey, David Herres and I autographed the wall. I’m sure that’s history. Someone told me the stairs are closed to pedestrian traffic now anyway.

This trip required every spare inch of space in my computer bag and suitcase. Cupcake needed eight (8) (kow) (huit) (tàm) pairs of shoes. It goes without saying that if every pair were packed in her suitcase, there would be no room for clothes. As it was, I had to cut back to only one extra pair of pants and a sports shirt to make room. She would have been better off if she’d ditched the high heels and packed the tenny runners. but far be it from moi to point out that oversight.

The Jenny Gump Memorial Wading Pool

One important fact I learned is that if you folks select a hearing at the BVA with new submission of evidence at the BVA, you’re in for a loooong wait unless you’re advanced on the docket. It seems they’re not following the rules and deciding each Docket in the order submitted. This would explain why my widow gal Jeannie from back in Tennessee has been waiting since her April 2024 hearing for her DIC decision. To say it isn’t fair is a gross understatement. She began her quest in 2015 when he passed. We filed the 10182 in 2020 requesting the hearing.

And that’s the way it is, September 14, 2025.