Washington DC
Yesterday, 3 December 2000, was my first visit to "The Wall" and I don't think I'll ever be quite the same again.
As I drove in from the Shenandoah Valley, through/over Georgetown and into the Mall area of Washington DC, my only real thoughts were "where is this thing" and "where am I going to park". Well, the first question answered itself within 15 seconds of entering the Mall - it's right there! The second question answered itself almost immediately thereafter - right next to the memorial.
I was there on a mission for a friend whose uncle was lost in Vietnam. I've got to be honest here - if it hadn't been for that mission, I probably would never have visited the memorial. There are just too many memories and too much pain associated with the war, still to this day, and in all my service time I was never assigned there. Anyway, my only real plan for the day was to get a few rubbings of one particular name on the wall and get back out of town as fast as possible.
That all evaporated in less time than it's taking you to read this.
The Vietnam Memorial is, in the only words I can express, "something else". My father was in the 1st Marine Division at Guadalcanal in WWII and I've been to the Iwo Jima Memorial many times. I have uncles that were in the Korean War, and I have/had friends and family that were in Vietnam. All the memorials and monuments in DC are impressive - the Vietnam Memorial is different.
It's not as big as most others, it doesn't tower into the sky, it doesn't shine in the sunlight. It's primarily composed of a long black granite wall, sunken into the ground. Its very design reflects the government's desire to hide from everything related to the war. This very quality is the reason for its initial impact on the soul. I parked on the main street behind the wall and approached it from the northeast. As I came around the corner of the lane and beheld it for the first time, my heart almost came to a stop. I couldn't believe what I was looking at - name after name after name, all carefully carved about 2" high, one after the other, 58,000+ of them. These are the individual signatures attesting to the folly of a government getting itself into something that it doesn't really support. This is what happens when government stops answering to the people that supposedly allow it to exist, and pursues its own undefined political interests. Name after name of the fallen, for no real purpose other than political interests.
But, there's much more than a sense of futility to this most hallowed of locations. There's a warmth (literally) and spirit of life that absolutely pervades the area. The first time I touched the wall, I simply couldn't let go. The wall is WARM! I mean this, the temperature in town was freezing, but the wall is warm to the touch. It's almost as if the souls of all those lost to us are residing in the wall and the warmth of their love of us and country is coming through the stone. Until I actually touched that stone, I was in tears. At the moment of contact - well, I don't know whether I'm going to express it properly, but I'm sure going to express it from the heart. At the moment of contact a thrill went through me, all those names seemed to be there physically, and they were telling me that all would be right.
That feeling is still with me as I write this. The pain and regret is still there, but it's been tempered now. There's another feeling in my heart, one of - not really "joy", more like contentment. They're all gone from us now, but they're not really gone - they're there, in the wall, on the grounds and in every heart of every person who has visited there. Of this, I am absolutely sure. Nobody could possibly visit this place and ever forget what they experience there. And, as long as we remember, they're not really gone.
To be continued -- 1:30 PM 6 Dec 2000