Commentary : It’s Healing to Remember That Vietnam Veterans Did Their Jobs

Boom! The sound of the artillery echoed through the afternoon air as clouds of smoke swirled from piece to piece.

Crack Crack Crack. The sound of the M-16s followed closely behind.

Wait, this wasn’t Vietnam in 1968. I was really back home in California participating in the dedication of a memorial to those I had fought with but had made the ultimate sacrifice and didn’t come back.

Boom! The sound of the artillery echoed through the bunker, followed by music from the ‘60s while small groups of camouflaged soldiers sat around drinking beer talking about that day’s activities, interrupting their stories long enough to make sure the sound they were listening to really was a recording from the movie “Platoon” and not the real sounds of Hueys and howitzers that are forever echoing in their souls.

On several occasions, I too had to remind myself that I was actually in the Torch Club, a small bar down the street from the memorial site that had renamed and remodeled its interior to resemble the bunkers that its present occupants had known so well. Little did the owner know that he would end up opening not only his arms but his heart to the Vietnam Veterans who were in town for the dedication ceremony, as would more and more of the city as the influx of veterans grew.

Memories everywhere I turned, staring back at me, talking to me, touching me. A full weekend to reflect over one year that had occurred half a lifetime ago. How was I going to hold up? Although I had been actively involved with the memorial project for more than 3 years, I had not had time to think about how being around so many veterans releasing so much emotion would effect me.

I mean, I’m not the kind to go around feeling sorry for myself. I have a good job, a wonderful family and have tried hard to be a positive person, giving back some of what was taken away from me in the jungle of Vietnam.

For more than 17 years, I had talked about Vietnam only to my family and a small group of friends, unless someone asked. Then I would give only the information that was necessary. The last 3 years of fund-raising had its emotional frustrations, but those feelings were second to the enormous task of asking for money from a public who wanted to bury Vietnam in its entirety. The cost of the memorial was just $2 million, yet it took 4 years to raise it. Why?

A healing place. That is what the memorial is about. It’s a place where anyone who has problems concerning our involvement in Vietnam can go and reflect.

Yes, the names are a reminder of the ultimate sacrifice some of us paid, as are the bronze statue of a grunt reading a letter from home, the relief of a nurse working on a wounded soldier and the POW sitting in his cell. But the feeling is, and should be, of the healing process that needs to take place when these types of events happen in the world we live in.

Winning! Whoever asked us to win in Vietnam? Our leaders never did, the people never supported victory. For 20 years the question of winning has bothered me, but as I stood in the middle of Capital Park listening to retired Army Brig. Gen. George Price speak, his words began to make sense as they filtered through all the emotions that were building up inside of me.

I realized that what he was saying was exactly what I had been wondering about all these years and that he was giving me the answer I was looking for. I did my job, I did what my country asked of me. Hearing those words and feeling the emotions that they brought on, I can now lay another part of Vietnam aside and continue through life.

Boom! The artillery roared. Crack came the sound of the M-16s as they finished the 21-gun salute.

But the sound that really got to me, the sound that brought on the uncontrollable sobbing that I thought I was going to be able to handle, came as the first note from the bugle gently filtered through the trees and spread through my entire body and filled my head with the sound of “Taps,” bringing an end to a weekend filled with feelings and emotions that each of us, veteran and non-veteran, can experience individually.

Thank you, America! Thank you, California! We’re home.