'Regrets'

A day does not go by that I and others don’t ask ourselves this question, “If we didn’t go to Vietnam, who would have taken our places?” Would those people’s name be on “The Wall”? If we had run away to another land, would we all now be rich and happy like so many others? Many of us could have finished up our school earlier and got in on the ground floor of some young upstart company instead of humping the bush, drinking agent orange water, chasing Charley or loading body bags. Would we be happier now?

I keep getting the same answer to these questions even after all these years and yes even after the public reactions to us “baby killers” coming home. To me there was no other way. Right or wrong, my country called and I had to go! I could never live with myself if I had stayed home and someone else had to go in my place. I would never know if that person’s name was on the “Wall” or if he had made it home to his loved ones. I know for sure that I made the right choice for myself by going to Vietnam, others will have to live with their decisions.

I was not like most young boys who went to war. I was older, more mature, a career solider. After returning from my first tour of duty, I volunteered for a second tour because I felt that if I returned that maybe, just maybe I might be taking the place of some young inexperienced 17 year old boy and my chances would be much greater than his of making it through. I don’t regret that decision because I did come back a second time. But what did I come home to?

After arriving at the Los Angeles airport, I met a young Green Beret who had just spent 10 months humping the DMZ. We were both in uniform and decided to have a beer while waiting for our next connection home. Walking toward the airport bar a group of outstanding citizens dropped a bag of doggie poop on us from above. They then had the courage to run away before we could identified them. After that incident neither of us wanted a beer, we just wanted to go home. It didn't made us feel real proud of our countrymen that day. In the days to come, I realized that the majority of the people in the U.S. felt the same as those young citizens. It makes me sad that many of our leaders today were in the group that wouldn’t support the troops in Vietnam. They were so afraid that they might have to go, that they not only protested against the war but also against their own troops in the war. Some even went to Hanoi to show their support for our enemy; asking the U.S. troops to lay down their arms and quit killing babies. Others protested in foreign lands against the United States and their involvement in the war. Now that the war is over and these people have lots of money and power, they say that they were only young and thought they were doing the right thing. I for one will never forgive these people for their actions. I hope that the devil has a special place reserved for them when their time has come.

I do feel bad because I have never been to the “Wall”. I have come close a couple of times while in DC on business, but didn’t have the courage to actually go all the way. The moving wall comes to our community every April. I have made it to the entrance of the park several times but again not the courage to go in. I know my brothers are calling me and asking why I haven’t been to see them. I have no answer except that I feel guilty that my name is not on the wall with theirs. We all served and did our time, why was I spared and they weren’t. Does someone have a special plan for me that they allowed me to make it through two tours while others were taken only after a few hours or days in country. Am I bringing honor to my comrades; what was I destined to do. I only hope that I can find the courage this year to go to the park when the moving wall comes again. Maybe, just maybe my comrades will tell me what I’m supposed to do. At least, I could tell them that I’m sorry for letting them down.

As bad as not being to visit my comrades on the wall is, it’s not my biggest shame. The biggest shame of all is not remembering all the names of some of my comrades who fell during this sad time in our history. I remember some only by their first names and some by their last names, and some by their full names, but not all. I guess by not remembering their names, my mind says that they aren’t gone. This shame wakes me in the middle of the night and haunts me throughout my days. That’s sad and I punish myself over and over again for not remembering.

Jerre D. Divelbiss
MSgt, Retired
Bien Hoe AB - November 1965 - May 1967
Da-Nang AB - April 1968 - July 1969

'One Visit'

As sent by:
Cpl. Harton. USMC Retired
'5'th Marines,Vietnam 1967.

It was about 6 years ago I made my way from Georgia to Washington DC. It was a mission that needed completed. It was in the early fall, September I think and a very clear day, sunny and cool. Alot of motorcycles were there, I think they were a group of Vets. who were supporting the POW issue and were very helpful in getting me started with the list and the names I was looking for. Just two names, thats all I could remember.

I was told by the Park Ranger that most of the KIA's were listed by dates and the names would be close in the list on the wall that were killed on a certain day. That day was Sept. 4, 1967.

There were alot of people there. Military, Mothers, Sons, Daughters, and just visitors who were curious I think. I started my walk down the concrete path to the Wall and a feeling came to me to turn around and leave, I wanted to run, like I had been doing for years. My legs kept moving, my mind stopped, and I was there.

Panel 25E, someone placed a large wreath in front of it. It had roses intertwinded and was about 3 feet high. I searched the names, shaking inside and fear came over me, I wanted to run my legs stood still, my finger moving along the smooth surface, over names I did not know. My neck stiffened from looking higher for the two names. Higher, and Higher I looked. So many names, so close together, where were my friends. Suddenly, from no-where, a stiff breeze blew, and the wreath that someone had placed there fell over onto the names. Just above the top of the wreath were the names. Lawrence D Peters, Vincent R Capodanno. They had found me. They all had found me that day. You see, they all are my friends, everyone of them. I embraced them, I cried for them, and I never heard a word from anyone there. I was alone with my "friends", and I shall never forget them, all 58,000 of them.
God Bless you for your site.
Cpl. Harton.
USMC Ret. "5"th Marines, Vietnam 1967.

This letter was sent to me by Terry Lockridge. He felt since I was going to the "Wall" that it may help me to understand the power held there. It was written by another Veteran during his visit. The credit is at the bottom of the letter. Thank you Terry, for sending this. Terry is also a "Brother" of Vietnam and friend.

Spirits Of The Wall

I never intended to visit The Wall. One year, I found myself in a room at the Hilton Hotel in D.C. on a business trip. I told a non vet friend of mine that I was going to go visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and would be back by midnight. This was about 10 o'clock pm. I thought it would be like going to see the Washington Monument or something. I didn't expect what happened after that and I can't explain it... really.
I jumped in a cab and headed down to The Wall. As I got out of the cab I noticed that it was really hot and steamy. Just like Nam, I had thought. I noticed some booths where the POW issue was being promoted, but chose to walk directly down a ramp to The Wall, avoiding the booths. It was very quite.
As I started walking towards The Wall, I couldn't see it in view yet. It seemed that my steps were getting heavier and heavier. I felt really strange, like I was on something, but I was completely straight.

I rounded the corner and it all came into view. Suddenly and very unexpectedly, I lost my breath as tears came pouring down my face. All I could think of was "There's my boys, there's my boys... there they are..."
As I walked deeper into The Wall, things progressed. I could not stop from crying, I felt happy and sad, all at the same time. I felt that THEY were there and that I could feel them and that they were welcoming me there.
I could feel a feeling, a feeling that words can't describe, a feeling, maybe more of a state of mind, which I had not felt since my days in Vietnam.

Yes, I could feel Vietnam, I once again could really feel like I was back in Vietnam and I was glad to be there. I had forgotten what It felt like... Vietnam was all around me, flowing through me.
I felt that I could not leave and really didn't want to. I stayed, that first night, until 04:30am. I just wandered around The Wall, back and forth. I could hear a sound, a sort of music in my mind, a clatter of some kind, a racing, pacing, sort of thing. A hot LZ sound? Maybe. It was like they all showed up at once... the ghosts... the ghosts of the Vietnam War.

I couldn't believe how many visitors that were there at 3am. People just kept coming and coming, walking in silence. Yet, I knew that I could feel a sense of belonging, a sense of duty. I could really feel them all very... very strongly. They are spirts joined to each other and to each and every one of us.
I began to think that I had snapped, gone over the edge... finally. I wondered if I would be OK. Just then another vet approached me. He was wearing jungle fatigues and a green beret, "This your first visit, huh?" I mumbled, "It shows, does it?" He said, "Yeah, but you'll be OK."
I told him how I thought that I could feel them all, could hear them in my mind trying to communicate. He told of how so many, many come there for that very reason. That somewhere between 10pm and midnight that they all come screaming in and then disappear around dawn... just like the Nam. He said mostly every Vietnam Vet feels the same thing, but only in the night.

I asked why they were there, why did they show up? He looked me in the eye and said softly and very slowly, "Because... they... have nowhere... else to go." I stared down at The Wall... a chill ran down my back that sent goose bumps all over my body. I was numb. More tears. I wanted to stop crying and could not. When I looked up, the Green Beret had vanished... nowhere in sight. It was like he jumped in a tunnel. Gone. Di Di. Het Roi.

Sure enough, as dawn approached all of these feeling evaporated as surely as the dew leaves the grass surrounding the memorial. I felt normal again and headed back to the hotel. In the hotel I wondered if I had imagined all of this.

My whole stay in Washington turned into a non-stop pilgrimage to the memorial. That's all I wanted to do... hang at The Wall. I looked up every vet I knew whose name was on The Wall. Found one I didn't know about until that day.

During the day it was like any other attraction in Washington except, heavier traffic than anything else. Even saw the Soviet Army come by. I noticed that one point of THE WALL, pointed directly at Capital Hill... there they are... The Masters of War themselves. Those who sold us all out as the blood ran out of our bodies and was buried in the mud.
Even Jesus would never forgive what they've done.

But at night, I would sit and wait for them to show up... and they always did. It would start as a trickle... then turn into a monsoon rush. The air changed and all the feelings came pouring out. They were there... they were there for us all.

I took pictures during both day visits and one night visit. During the night visit, I felt it not right, not appropriate, to be taking pictures, but I did anyway. When I got the film back, the night roll was all blank. I'm a good photographer and have never had this happen before or since. You figure it out.

I'm a fairly stable guy, family, kids and a good life. I'm not one to be drawn into such things. I don't know what happened down there and I am still always thinking about going back. I know that I belong there. If there is any vet that has not made the journey to The Wall, you really should, you owe it to yourself. They want you there. It is all that they have. Go seek it out... but go at night... spend a night there awake... just like you did in Nam. If you really spend a night with them... if you do that... then you'll believe everything that I have written here.

Mark Cuddy
9th Infantry Division
Mekong Delta 68 & 69

Sometimes my whole week is made by making a friend who takes the time to send me a letter.
This is from Bob...A new"Friend".....*g
Please visit this link to Bob!

The following sent by Bob Prinselaar

I'm O.K.

I'll admit I'm slightly troubled
and there are times I'm downright sad
When I think back on things that happened
and some of those were really bad
But I'm O.K., I tell you truly
I'm alive, and that's alot
I'm better off than some old buddies
Yeah I'm alive, and they are not
There are times I dream about them
But mostly now, I only sleep
I'm telling you I'm doing fine now
Why should I think 'bout things so deep
I never cry, cause that's not manly
It's not the way that I was taught
And what the hell, it's all behind me
I've put aside just what we've fought
I can't remember all the reasons
There had to be some, I suppose
I do remember, for God and country
but it was more than only those
I lost some friends, for lofty reasons
and they are now forever gone
But I'm O.K., Yeah, I'm still living
But sometimes, God, I'm so alone

Bob Prinselaar...Thanks,
Dave/11bravovet

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