|
Walking Wall Vietnam Memorial
An Emotional Visit
I had gone to the Selfridge ANG Base Air Show with my friends, Charlie and Coop, and Charlie's daughter, Melody.
On the way down, Charlie had mentioned that the "Moving Wall" Vietnam Memorial was on display, and suggested we go take a
look at it. I thought it was a good idea. I'm too young to remember anything about Vietnam or the things that
happened there, so I thought I might be able to gain a little bit of insight, if nothing else.
After the air show, we walked around a bit, looking at various displays, including a POW/MIA Memorial display that had
been set up in one of the hangars. Coop and I got in line behind two soldiers, who were carefully reading each
and every name on the plaques. I watched them as they got to the end, both of them shaking their heads in either amazement
or disappointment at the fact that so many people have not yet been accounted for in all this time.
The display itself was fairly simple. On the left-hand side, there was a small table with two plates on it.
One had a slice of lemon one it. The other was empty, save for some salt sprinkled on it. There was a small vase
with a red ribbon tied around it, and a single red rose inside it. An empty drinking glass was upside down in front
of the empty plate. A POW/MIA flag was draped over the empty chair.
Next to the table was a long board, about three feet high and thirty-five feet long, with several square plaques mounted
on it, each one engraved with names of soldiers. It was quite a sight.
We left that and started walking across the base to take a look at the Moving Wall.
|
| There were quite a few people there to take a look. |
As we walked up to it, I took a look at the whole thing. It was huge. For those not familiar with the function
of the Vietnam War Memorial, it is a granite wall listing the names of every American soldier who was killed during the war.
Starting in the middle (facing toward it), the right-hand side starts with 1959, and the first soldier killed. The list
continues all the way down to the end of the wall, then continues at the other end, until it meets again in the middle, finishing
with 1970.
Also in the middle, where the two parts of the wall meet, are a pair of Army boots, an M-16 rifle stuck in the ground
with its bayonette, and a soldier's helmet.
|
| The center of the wall... |
As we reached the far end of the wall, we heard someone shout "Color guard! Begin closing ceremony!"
We all turned to see a group of eight men marching toward the center of the display area, seven of them carrying rifles,
and the other carrying a horn.
|
| All of these men were veterans, including the commander of the color guard. |
When they reached the center of the display area, they were ordered to unlock their rifles, and they fired three times
each - a twenty-one gun salute. Then the soldier with the horn played "Taps" while the rest of them saluted the flag.
|
| After the final shot, the horn played "Taps"... |
After the horn player finished, two other soldiers took down the POW/MIA flag and the American flag, both of which were
on a pole set up behind the wall.
|
| You could have heard a pin drop as they brought down the flags. |
After this was finished, the commander marched the color guard off the display area. Out of the corner of my eye,
I could see Coop's eyes welling up and her face going red. I felt the same thing happening to me, but I tried to keep
it under control.
The commander called the color guard one last time as they broke up and started to walk away, and thanked them for being
so helpful over the course of the weekend, in helping them take care of the grounds around the wall. Several members
of the crowd started to clap. It soon became a huge ovation.
At this point, Coop was a bit of a mess, and I was right behind her. Charlie and Melody were off to the side, not
saying much - an impressive feat for a five-year old and her father.
I wandered away from the crowd and sat down on one of the barriers they had set up to mark off the display area, and
tried to get myself back under control. It took quite a while.
Charlie and Melody came over, took one look at me, and went off to sit somewhere else and wait for me. I think
Charlie didn't know what to say. He'd never seen me get this emotional before.
Coop came over and sat down next to me, proffering a tissue. "Here," she said, pushing it into my hand. "It's
the last one. Want it?"
I took in and wiped my eyes, then stared at the wall for quite some time without saying anything. I finally
said, "I was doing fine until the color guard came out."
Coop nodded. "It wasn't very easy to watch, was it," she said, not really asking; just sort of thinking out loud.
"Yeah," I said. Then I lost it all over again. I sat there, sobbing for a good ten minutes before I finally
got myself under control. I stood up and started walking back to the car. The others followed me, none of us saying
anything.
I was born in 1971. None of the "Vietnam Experience" had anything to do with me. I was too young. The
closest I ever came to any sort of combat situation was with my brother in our backyard, using G.I. Joe figures. I have
no concept of what happened over there.
My father, Vern, on the other hand, took two tours of duty there in the 82nd Airborne unit. He does the usual Veteran
stuff - he's in the VFW and the American Legion - but it's very rare when he talks about his experiences over there, and even
then he only talks about the few funny things that happened to him, like when he ran across my Uncle Jim over there.
He never talks about the other stuff. And I don't ask about it. I figure if he wants to talk about it, he will.
I won't push the issue.
After seeing this memorial, though, it's going to be harder not to ask him about it. And after seeing all of those
names, I count myself a very lucky man indeed that he was one of the ones who came back. And it makes me very sad to
think about those who weren't so fortunate.
And so, to my father, my uncle, my brother, and all of the others who fought for their country, regardless of the reasoning
behind it, I salute you.
|
