No, its: " When will the war be over and the troops home?"

Keep asking this untill we get an answer

James Worth

BLUEHAWK
 

Getting a war memorial built in DC is like talking to a door. The first problem is to find a location, and this matter falls on deaf ears in Congress. The second problem is finding a civilian advocate to have it built. This has usually turned out to be a veteran of the war in question, one who has INFINITE PATIENCE. The third problem is funding. Don't expect Congress to appropriate any money.

reunion
 

(If I coulda signed on again with my familiar name, I would have.)

Finally made it to our Wall...

Monday, May 16th, at dusk. Still, hundreds of people.

I'd seen the moving Wall, up here in Caro, Michigan, last summer. That was fairly intense as it was.

Got over there anyway, with Lady Blue on the arm, and under the arm actually, wearing the American Legion cover.

Started at that far thin end over there, closest to Lincoln's memorial... south end? Too many names.

Somebody came up, a Vet, and showed me to go to the big book there, find names first, go to numbered sections next.

I did that.

Went down the row, stopping every so often at a special name. Got to 56E, a certain name there, the last one on my list, about 2/3rds the way down, on the left. Started rubbing on it with my finger.

We were in high school together, and room mates in a state-run "boarding school." We had merged again briefly at Wichita Falls, for Tech.

Found myself rubbing and rubbing on it.

The same Vet came back up, and offered me a piece of paper to make a pencil rubbing with. He had to help me do that. I couldn't do it alone, for some damn reason, started coming unglued on the deal.

We finished doing that. I was not doing too well, but was erect. He laid his arms around my shoulders and said, "There's nothin' to be ashamed of. We were kids. We did what we were asked to do." Maybe, Charles was there that day and time.

Somebody back when I started this thread said something about "survivor's guilt" I have that. Twice I volunteered for VN, and twice the USAF didn't issue the papers. So, Paul (a Marine), and Charles (USAF) and some others had to go there alone, is the way I feel about it. They didn't come home, I'm still here.

And, I am embarassed at myself not to have earned the right to join them when they might have had a need I could have helped with.

That Vet who came up was a black guy, our age. Charles was a black guy, about his size. At the end, I said to him, "Charlie was a black guy."

He and I were, also, guards on our school basketball team... the two "little" guys, who made everything happen, if we were lucky. He played shortstop, and I played 2nd in IIAA softball league... and had a number of female winning/losing contests along the way :D

We each had a gerbil in our dorm room bottom dresser drawers.

We got some leave after Tech, and drove his beautiful 1953 Chevy Impala hardtop, white over red, up to his family home in Gary, Indiana. That was the one and only time I have ever been welcomed into the home of a negro family. Afterward, he got his orders, and I got stuck stateside helping train MAAG-VN butter bars on the eccentricities of Provider. I did not last too long.

After that Vet said his farewell, at The Wall, it was only a few moments... I about-faced, walked to the fence line there, and about-faced again. Lady Blue kept her distance.

I raised my best slow hand salute. Stuff got blurry.

All the people who were coming in, down to the apex of that V, stopped quiet in their tracks... and allowed me to have that private moment. I never saw the like of it anywhere anytime else.

I ordered the salute, and we walked on.

Later in the week, on our way up to the Tomb of the Unknown (so Lady Blue could see it for her first time), one lady passing by whispered, "Thank you for your service, Sir."

I replied, "You're welcome.", knowing I had not given anything approaching what was required, and ashamed of myself for personal failure.

Thank you, Patriot Files, for allowing this thread to continue.

Carry on.

Sir Blue

Bluehawk,

Just to let you know everyone feels guilt, everyone feels like he didn't do as much as that guy over there. When we go to the Wall, it is to visit the real heroes. I have had some intense visits to the Wall too but it has always ended up positive. Those guys feel no remorse, no pain but I can sense they really are there and welcome us with love and the joy of old buddies reunited. Welcome home and I truly thank you for your service.

Thank you, for welcoming me home. I am grateful for the honor.

I feel remorse. I feel extreme pain. Extreme pain, but not enough.

Charles was no hero. He is my buddy. Paul too.

Hack WAS a true hero, or General MacArthur, or Audie Murphy... or Scoutness. Those are the true and bravest.

I miss Charlie, and Paul... I see his face, and Paul's, hear their voices, every damn day.

We had a lot of fun together, they and me.

It's gonna end up positive, I can tell, somehow, not sure yet.

I woulda wanted to be there to assist Paul and Charlie, and I wasn't there.

What is happening here 1cav

I think we feel guilt because it gives us a feeling of having some control over events we didn't have any control over. It is better than the abject helplessness because there is nothing we can or could have done to change a thing. In my visits to the inpatient program for PTSD at the VA hospital in Salem, Virginia we worked on both and it became readily evident that the helplessness was the real core of the thing.

Thank you Fred, that helped me understand a lot. Peace Blue , in your heart and on your path.

Thanks for listening, both of you.

My visit to the Wall in D.C.
 

I went to the wall in November 2003 as part of my journey to solve my unresolved grief.

I would like to share a portion of my book with you. Taken from the chapter I wrote about my visit to the wall...published in my book Sacred Shadow, Sacred Ground: A Vietnam War Widow's Journey Through Unresolved Grief. It is written in prose and there are two poems.

It is a different perspective. I hope you don't mind my sharing it with you.
My husband was killed on Sept. 11, 1968 with six other Marines in an ambush.

This part of my journey occurred on my last walk of the wall before returning home.

pgs. 128-131 "Welcome Home" chapter

"The majestic wall began to work it's wonder. Touching the wall and seeing my reflection brought me face to face with that part of myself that had refused to go on living without him.
"The rain slid down the granite face, My God, it looks like tear drops seeping from the engraved names.
"I looked down the empty path and back at the wall. I felt the presence of the thousands who were there just yesterday, and I felt the tears of those who remained behind the wall.


"It Was An Epiphany"

"My spirit's search for you
lost in grief
hoping
you will find your way
to your day
of reckoning.
I wait and becon you--
touch my face,
find my name,
take your place
in history.
Reconnect
the parts
that died that day.
Tears are shed in sorrow
for those who walk away
with personal wars
unresolved
until yet another day.
My happy tears
are spent
on those who take the time
to come to remember
the days
When, we were all so young and innocent,
Before we died."


"It's You, It's Me"

"I looked into the wall of tears
and saw me standing there.
Inside, looking out,
Outside looking in.
It's you,
It's me,
It's where I've been--
Inside granite.
I can't come out,
You can't come in.
But now we know
where we are.
I see you,
you see me,
I belong here,
You belong there,
No need to search
anymore.
My wandering soul
found it's way.
I touched you hand
As you touched mine,
I whispered,
"Welcome Home."

Glenda M. Carter

http://www.tworainbowspublishing.com [/url]

That says it better than I did, for sure.

It IS a majestic Wall, a lot more so than I had counted on it being, of all the war memorials I have ever visited in almost 60 years.

Your thought about the tears... made me think of all who have shed those tears, while standing up to the Wall, all along those paving bricks, for years and years now.