Among my fellow tourists was what looked like a Japanese family: fiftyish mom and dad and thirtyish son. The son, who had been standing there watching the guard pace up and down, hoists up his camera and steps over the rope we were all standing behind.
CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK went the guard's shoes as he raced up the trespasser and made a bayonet thrust that ended 1" from the Japanese tourist's nose. A long look down the chromed bayonet into the .30 muzzle of the guard's Garand was enough to cause the tourist to practically levitate himself back behind the rope. The guard, who never said a word, or even changed facial expression, resumed marching up and down as if nothing had happened.
If the location wasn't so hallowed I would have cheered.
Mark