Veterans Day: A Time to Mourn, a Time to Heal : A replica of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial evokes strong emotions at Knott’s Berry Farm. About 200 attend a candlelight vigil to honor those who died.

It’s about half the size of the original, made of metal instead of granite, and can be taken apart like a giant Lego set. But to the hundreds of people who flocked Friday to the traveling replica of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, the feelings it evoked were genuine.

“It brings back a lot of memories, a lot of unfulfilled dreams of a lot of kids,” said Michael Deegan of Fountain Valley, who served 11 months, 22 days and five hours in Vietnam and spent Friday evening running his fingers over the name “GEORGE S. JOHNSON.”

“He was very patriotic,” a wet-eyed Deegan said of Johnson, a high school buddy who died during the war. “He was an athlete and a good student. He graduated mid-term and went into the Marines. He died and never saw 19.

“Every one of these,” he added, gesturing at the more than 58,000 names of dead or missing servicemen and servicewomen on the memorial, “is a young kid with a lot of dreams.”

About 200 people joined Deegan and his wife, Suzanne, for a Veterans Day candlelight vigil at “The Moving Wall,” which is parked this week in front of Independence Hall at Knott’s Berry Farm.

Carol Vigueria belted out a powerful “Amazing Grace,” and then the crowd, which included scores of Vietnam War veterans, held their candles aloft as Billy Joel’s “Goodnight, Saigon” blared over the sound system.

“Look around here. We’ve got Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine, Coast Guard--we’re all family,” organizer Larry (Bear) Hughes of Fullerton told the somber audience. “This is our family. If we all stay together and bond together like we did in the ‘Nam, nothing can take us apart.”

Several veteran nurses and soldiers sobbed at the side of the podium, clamoring to hug each other as the memories flooded back.

“It’s like a mother losing their children,” cried Hope Oswald of Culver City, who served five years in the war.

“I can just see them coming in when there’s not enough room to lay them on the ground,” said Carla Bendele of Redlands, who spent seven months in Vietnam, where her husband was killed. “It’s been a long time, but it’s so fresh in my mind, like it happened yesterday or today.”

Many in the crowd, veterans and family members of slain soldiers, said they never have seen the massive memorial wall, designed by architect Maya Lin, in Washington. The replica, made of 74 panels, stretches nearly 253 feet and is six feet at its tallest point.

On Friday, the base of the wall was littered with single carnations, roses, wreaths, miniature flags and personal notes.

“I don’t know you, but I will always know your name . . . your name is on a big, black wall,” wrote Mosi Jamila Blane on a piece of flowered stationery. “So now everyone will know you were brave and everyone will know you were strong . . . and everyone will remember your name.”

Suzanne and Michael Deegan stood a long time staring at the wall, thinking of their 14- and 17-year-old sons, and remembering their own coming of age during the Vietnam War.

“They call this ‘The Moving Wall’ because it moves from place to place,” Suzanne Deegan said with a sigh. “But there’s a double meaning to that, ‘The Moving Wall.’ It’s very moving.”