A warm, late-autumn sun shone down on the cemetery. The last notes of the Star-Spangled Banner floated up from the tomb, mingling with the faint purr of a jet airplane, invisible in the sky above. Facing the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the panorama of Washington beyond it stood a white-haired old man in a black Chesterfield coat. His face was pink, and in his right hand he held a black felt hat over his heart. As the anthem ended, Herbert Hoover, 81, stepped forward to meet an Army sergeant holding a large wreath of yellow chrysanthemums. He...
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