They’re just names –Robert Russell Barnett, John Marshall Brown III, Martin Koss, Hiawatha Hicks, Joseph Samuel Godwin, Charles G. Warsing, Donald C. Wyles, William D. Port – part of 58,226 names on the black slabs that make up the monument to the Vietnam conflict dead and missing. The last three names are familiar to some of the readers of The Daily News. Warsing and Wyles were Saxton natives; Port, for whom the former Fourth Street Bridge in Huntingdon is named, listed Elizabethtown as his home at the time of his service in Vietnam. He was a Huntingdon County native.
I found their names on the monument and made rubbings of them. Warsing’s name is on panel 64W, line 3; Wyles’ is on panel 8E, line 33; and Port is on panel 34E, line 39.
As I looked at these slabs, I felt as though I were in a graveyard but the bodies were not there. I have visited “The Wall” before and always felt the war was such a waste of human life.
My reason for this visit was selfish. I came to the 20th anniversary of the dedication of the monument, not for myself, but for my brother, Vince.
During the Vietnam war, I lived and worked in the Washington, D.C. area. My brother along with three other brothers and my parents were still in Wisconsin, where I grew up. Vince, and his twin, Victor were 18 in 1971. The lottery to decide on one’s eligibility for the draft was in effect. They both decided to enlist to keep from being surprised by Uncle Sam.
Following their stint in the service, Victor went on to other things. Vince joined the Army National Guard and is still in that branch, full-time. Now a Sergeant Major, he is stationed in Gulfport, Miss., with the 1108th Aviation Classification Repair Activity Depot (AVCRAD).
This past weekend, he, along with several of the men and women from his unit came to Washington to participate in the reading of the names on the wall and to stand as honor guard.
Yes, every name was read — by servicemen and by wives, daughters, sons and friends of those whose names are engraved. It is a massive undertaking. Names were read slowly, reverently, in the order they were listed as casualties or missing in action. A stage, set up at the apex of the monument, faced away from the wall. As each person or group of persons mounted the steps to read, the one before them would exit the stage from the other side. The names were read over a 65-hour time frame beginning Nov. 7 and ending Nov. 10.
Several of the name readers would utter identifying words such as, “ my dad,” “our dad,” or “my husband.” While I listened Saturday morning, a group of men mounted the stage and one of them began to read the names on the list in front of him. At one point all 12 of them began to say the next five or six names. One could see their emotion and I realized they were reading the names of fallen comrades.
A young boy, no older than 12, also read. When he was finished, veterans in uniform approached him and thanked him for his participation.
Why did I feel selfish? I came to see my brother and to watch him honor these men he did not know. He didn’t get sent to Vietnam and he is still here, able and willing to serve his country. I am proud of his dedication and thankful for his life.
My selfishness, however, was short-lived. As I visited the individual slabs, I took the time to read some of the messages left at the wall and the memorabilia left behind. Some of the most poignant were the many POW/MIA bracelets left on the ground. Did the wearers finally know the fate of those for whom they wore the bracelets or did they just give up?
Reverently, hands touch the names. Faces, some marred by tears, are reflected in the black granite. It is as if those of us looking on are a part of the monument itself. Drawn into a time that began in 1959 and ended in 1975, the reflections for those who lived through those years in Vietnam and at home are not all in the granite — some are in our hearts.
In 1979, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund was established as the non-profit organization authorized by Congress to build the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Today, the organization has developed a series of outreach programs dedicated to preserving the legacy of “The Wall”, to promote healing and to educate about the impact of the Vietnam War.
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On the net:vvmf.org
