Viewing the Vietnam Memorial

The day was hot and humid, an average summer day in Washington, D.C. My sister, her husband and I decided to go to the mall and play Frisbee. I had always loved to wander around all the museums and monuments there. After playing for several minutes, however, we began to lose interest. We decided to go for a walk and see a part of the park that we had never seen before. The Vietnam Memorial was in that part of the park.

I have seen many memorials and monuments, all of which impressed me not because of their meaning but because of their size. The Vietnam Memorial was something that I could relate to since I was alive when the war was going on. I was very young when it was being fought, but I can still remember seeing the pictures on TV and asking my father if I would have to go there and fight also.

The park was a great place to relax. The sun was beginning to set. I remember the apprehension I felt as I walked towards the memorial. As I reached the top of the hill, I could look down and see the black marble wall as well as the people that were looking at it. I was a little disappointed at first since it was nothing in size compared to the other monuments. Only when I reached the memorial itself did I begin to realize the significance of it.

As I walked toward it, the wall began to grow larger and larger, and I began to get a feeling I had never had before. Suddenly, I was surrounded by this shiny black marble wall that seemed to reach out at me with all those names that were etched on its face. I could feel the heat of the sun radiating from the wall as though it was the heat from all those men whose names were on it.

As I stood there, I began to look around at all the other people that were gazing at the wall. I knew, or could imagine, all the things they were thinking about--things like the day they were notified of the death of their son or husband. Then they would remember the good times, like the day he was born or the day they were married. When I looked at the wall, all I could see was a name, but when they looked at the wall, they not only saw a name, they saw a face. To think of 58,000 faces looking out at me was just too much. I wanted to leave, but I also wanted to stay. I didn’t belong there. This was for special people--a personal thing, nothing to be gawked at.

As I walked away from the memorial, the sun began to burn a deep red, which reflected with great beauty off the lake in the distance. I will never forget that day, nor the feeling that overcame me. I don’t think that I will go back to the memorial for quite some time, or at least not until I understand things a little better and feel more comfortable about it. It’s a personal thing. It’s not for me, it’s for them.

PAUL McCOLGAN

Edwards AFB