In Remembrance of Hamburger Hill: by Michael Lansford

“CJ, please post this like you do on your Blog.  I only hope I honored them well.

Sometimes as I write, I get to thinking I could use better wording, but I write what I feel and it wouldn't be the same any other way.

This is the most difficult time of my life every year and it seems to affect me more and more. If people only knew how hard it was up there and they knew the guys, maybe they would see our world differently and know real American Heroes did serve in our war.   

We paid a costly price for that piece of ground and, right or wrong, we stood up for what we believed in --each other and our country. 

Thanks again for doing this.
Michael Lansford”

For Michael Lansford, in honor of his service on Hill 937, “Hamburger Hill”, May 10 to May 20, 1969.  ~CJ Heck

Michael (Surfer) Lansford

On this day, I pay my respects to comrades who fought, died, and survived Hill 937 --or as it was better known, "Hamburger Hill", 10 May 1969 -- 20 May 1969.

 Reflections and Remembrances:

We Vietnam vets have come far, some much farther than others, yet we’ve traveled many of the same journeys and paths.

I wonder myself as I reflect and remember. What could we have been in our lives? What might we have become? How have we turned out? Did those of us who survived make a difference in our world?

What if the ones we lost had survived? How different might the world have been for so many more? There are so many questions and so few answers.

There were battles won, yet lost --in the end, no one wins battles, or wars. We just survived. The sign at the top of the hill asks, "Was it worth it?" I ponder that question to this day.  We will never truly know the answer. 

Those of us who were there have strong opinions about all of it, but through time, those opinions only fall on deaf ears. We are almost forgotten, except WE remember and we always will in our own ways.

A lot of lives paid for that hill. They gave their lives for it and for us, too, for reasons no one will truly understand --it’s hard to explain the change that comes over you in combat when fellow comrades are being killed.

Each of us had different feelings, yet there was always one common goal. Survive and save as many as you could. That's all we could do. We fought on, knowing the outcome looked bleak, with fear so strong we were numb to it, so we fought even harder --all to an end that had no end.

A noted author once wrote about our war, "Some lived, some died, some lived to tell the story." We lived it for ten brutal days and nights, never knowing which one of those we would end up being. In many ways, we will continue to live all of this, no matter what. It never leaves us, ever.

It was always said, "You can leave the Nam, but the Nam will never leave you." They were right. No one ever really comes home. There’s always something somewhere that takes us back, like it or not. It will only end when we pass through the wall and there are no Vietnam vets left, because we are all together again on the other side.

I wonder what an old vet thinks as he sits up on a knoll looking across at The Wall, alone and scared, his wise eyes staring into the past. Can we even imagine what he is thinking, feeling, and knowing? If we could look in his eyes, we would know. From that distance, he can't read the names, but he doesn't have to read them.  He can still see their faces, because he will never forget them.

So I end this page of my journey with a promise I made.  I will never forget my comrades from Hill 937. For forty-nine years, I have kept my word, and my journey continues. I hope in their eyes I have lived up to my promise.

To this day, I am humbled and honored to have been with them through the good and the bad. I will never forget.  Promise made.  Promise kept.

God bless and God speed,

Michael (Surfer) Lansford

“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

My Mother's Machine Gun: by John Harrison

My Mother's Machine Gun - M-60

In October of 1967 my unit, the fabled 506th Airborne Infantry Regiment of World War II Band of Brothers fame, deployed to Vietnam as part of the 101st Airborne Division.

Although we did not know it then, we would be there for the bloodiest year of that conflict.

After a short orientation, we were sent to the field, Search and Destroy the Army called it; but to us, we were chasing Charlie, as the saying went even though we rarely caught up with him at first.

Since we were resupplied either every three, four or even five days in the field, and since I did not want my mother to become accustomed to getting a letter from me on some regular basis, I purposefully wrote to her spasmodically, rather than regularly.

A few months later, I was sitting on an LZ in the field near Phan Thiet on the coast and more or less the center of Vietnam waiting for a resupply when I realized that I owed my mother a letter. It had been two re-supplies already, six days, since I had last written. However, I could not think of anything to say to her.

As usual, I had started the letter with the date in the upper right hand corner followed by approximately where I was in Vietnam. So, I wrote “January 25, 1968”, followed by “Phan Thiet, RVN”, but that was as far as I could get.

Then, I looked down at the last page of a Stars & Stripes newspaper in my lap and it had a small article about a strike at the Colt Patent Firearms Company plant that made the M-60 machine-guns we used. Each platoon usually carried three of them but since one of mine was in for repair, I was in the field with only two machine-guns.

So, I started the letter, “Here I am in Vietnam, short one machine-gun for my platoon, and these Bozos are sitting safe at home and are out on strike while we are fighting a war. . .” That got me started and I went on with the letter talking about how quiet it was where we were, how hot the temperature was, how beautiful the South China Sea was, how safe Phan Thiet was, then some more about the missing machine-gun and so forth. Then, I sealed it; ran it to the helicopter, and thought no more about it.

Phan Thiet Street

 When my Mother arrived home from her job at Georgetown University on February 3, 1968, she was already worried and wanted to watch the evening news.

The battles of Tet ‘68 had started and they led the news. Therefore, she was very happy to see a letter from me in the day’s mail.

She got herself a glass of wine, turned on the television to the CBS evening news, and sat down to read my letter.

She opened my letter only moments before Walter Cronkite’s face appeared on the screen; she just had time to read the date, and location when Cronkite’s famous voice intoned his lead story:

“Today in Phan Thiet, Vietnam, there was savage fighting as the Viet Cong tried to seize the normally sleepy provincial capital. Units of the 101st Airborne Division met the enemy head on in a series of exceptionally violent battles that started early in the morning and continued all day. There were heavy casualties on both sides. . .”

My Mother sat there stunned. She read the top of my letter again; she read the name of town on the screen; she read the top of my letter again; she read the name of town on the screen. She started crying. Then, mercifully the news program broke for a commercial. The news from Vietnam actually got worse from there. She continued to cry, and sip her wine.

For those of you that do not remember, CBS’s Walter Cronkite was a god, an oracle of truth at the time, and unfortunately he was not at all upbeat about the chances of even the legendary 101st Airborne Division to hold on to the town of Phan Thiet under such a ferocious assault by a well armed, well supplied and numerically superior enemy. It was about the only time Phan Thiet made the news, but we made it big time that night.

According to Cronkite, the fighting was severe everywhere up and down the coast of Vietnam, so there was no possibility of reinforcements for the embattled 101st Airborne Division in Phan Thiet. This dire prediction was his close-off line for the extended news program.

Except getting up for more wine during commercial breaks, my Mother watched it all. Then, she sat there in her living room staring at the now blank TV screen, cried and finished the rest of her bottle of wine, her dinner forgotten. Her son was in trouble, and he needed a machine gun. She was sure of that.

A little after midnight, my Mother called her mother in Savannah, Georgia. A Depression era baby, it was a testament to her worry that my Mother did not once think of the cost of the long distance call. She had opened a new bottle of wine as well.

They talked for a while. They both cried for a while. They talked about machine-guns repeatedly, but not very knowledgeably, but they knew all about war. Both had lived through World War II and the Korean War by then. Finally, around two in the morning, her mother, my grandmother said: “Let’s call Dickie.”

It turned out that Dickie was Senator Richard B. Russell, Jr., the senior senator from the State of Georgia and probably the most powerful Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee ever. However, many years before, he had been a young boy in my grandmother’s, then Miss Varina Bacon’s, class for two years at the Seventh District Agricultural and Mechanical School in Powder Springs, Cobb County, Georgia.

In addition, Senator Russell’s mother, Ina Dillard Russell, was a teacher and my grandmother’s best friend. That was probably why my grandmother had Senator Russell’s home phone number, which she talked an ATT operator into making a conference call to at about 3:00 AM. The two women just cried as they waited for the call to be put through.

With Senator Russell on the line now, the three of them discussed machine-guns, and why Lieutenant Harrison’s platoon, did not have enough of them. My grandmother wanted to know exactly what Senator “Dickie” Russell was going to do about this problem of national importance, how had he let it happen in the first place and could he also see to it that the strikers were put in jail, or better yet, shot.

After midnight, both my grandmother and particularly my mother could be of a seriously violent inclination. My Mother was the one that suggested shooting the strikers.

My father had always said that United States District Court Judges, United States Senators, and any truly pissed off American mother could cause more trouble than anything else in the world. Here we had two angry, very scared American mothers and a powerful but sleep deprived United States Senator. Things were sure to be interesting in the morning.

Under Fire - John in Center

Meanwhile, the battles in Vietnam continued. Luckily, my missing machine-gun had been repaired and returned before the start of Tet because we had been busy. Finding Charlie was no longer the problem.

A day or so after the telephone call to Senator Russell, my platoon was embroiled in some of the fiercest house-to-house fighting of the war in downtown Phan Thiet, when my RTO (Radio Telephone Operator), Hal Dobie, of Yakima, Washington, handed me the radio handset saying there was a man that said he was a Colonel on the radio asking for “Lieutenant John Harrison” in the clear. This violated so many Army rules and regulations that he had not answered the transmission.

I truly did not know what to do. After the third time I heard him identify himself as Colonel something or other, (I have forgotten his name), and again asked for Lieutenant John Harrison. I just said “Yes.” rather than saying, “This is Alpha 2-6”, meaning, Alpha Company 2nd platoon leader, as I usually would have identified myself.

The Colonel then said he had a machine-gun for me and asked where he could put his helicopter down so he could deliver it to me. I said I was pretty busy at the moment—after all a lot of people were shooting at me.

He reminded me that he was a Colonel, that I was 2nd Lieutenant, and he demanded in the most forceful manner a landing zone -- immediately.

Since he was so insistent, I said that the area in front of my platoon was wide open, with plenty of room to land a helicopter, but then I had to warn him that he would be under heavy fire, both machine-guns and rockets as he landed. His choice. I think the pilot talked some sense into the demanding Colonel and he decided to leave the machine-gun back at our base camp, LZ Betty.

When we finally got back to LZ Betty a couple of days later, the Company armorer was still cleaning that machine-gun. The Colonel had tried to deliver an M-60 machine gun, to an active firefight, encased in a wooden box, enveloped in thick plastic shrink wrap, and full of thick cosmoline, but with no ammunition.

It took the armorer, Carl Rattee, three days and a tub of gasoline to get the machine gun ready to fire. But when he was done, it was beautiful.

Strangely, unlike every other weapon in the battalion this particular machine-gun was assigned directly to me, to Lieutenant John Harrison. It was my very own machine-gun, from my Mom. I liked it and when the Army made me give it back when I left Vietnam, I thought about calling her, but then, I thought it might make her angry. . .

John Harrison

About the Author

During the Vietnam War I enlisted in the Army as a private. I was commissioned as an Infantry Lieutenant upon completion of Officer Candidate School at 20 years old.

I was assigned to Company A, 3rd Battalion (Airborne), 506th Infantry Regiment, 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne Division. Initially I was the Executive Officer, later I assumed the additional duty of Rifle Platoon Leader.

While in Viet Nam I served as a Rifle Platoon Leader, Executive Officer and Rifle Company Commander, including combat operations incidental to the Tet ‘68 Offensive.

Upon returning from Vietnam I graduated from Georgetown University and worked in real estate while going to law school at night.

While practicing law, I also worked in real estate and mortgage banking for about 30 years and finally achieved my lifetime ambition to be a high school history teacher.

“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

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My Views: by Tom Peck

Veterans Have Earned Respect

I look at some of the comments that are posted in the vets group and I wonder why some would feel the slightest pity about how our enemy is interrogated, considering the treatment of our wounded and dead by our enemies who are supposed to abide by the Geneva Convention.

Yes, there are questionable interrogation methods, but water boarding is not as inhumane as what terrorists are doing worldwide, using their religion to justify it. 

We're not the ones who are deliberately killing innocent men, women, babies, children, and families on planes, buses, cars, in hotels, restaurants, office buildings and on the streets. 

When our enemies use the population to cover their activities, it's the innocent who always pay the price. The enemy knowingly set it up this way in every war and without a conscience as to loss of life -- as long as it's not theirs.

Why do those among us feel sympathy for heartless, unconscionable murderers, whether it be here, or anywhere else, worldwide?  Shouldn't we have sympathy for the victims?  To me, the methods we use to obtain information are far more humane than the acts of terrorists. 

The public doesn't have any idea about what the combatant goes through, the sacrifices made by our military once they are voted into harm's way. Their families are burdened with not knowing about their loved ones between letters, or locked in secrecy without knowing anything at all.

Waiting, always waiting, for a phone call from a loved one, or waiting and hoping not to get a knock on the door.  "We Were Solders" brought this home tragically and impersonally. Now, at least uniformed soldiers come to your door.  But the ignorant in our society disrespect the funerals of those who have paid the ultimate price. The misuse of our constitution allows this, but why?  Because those that sacrifice nothing expect everything at our expense.

Freedom Isn't Free

Freedom comes at a high price, but the malcontents of society aren't willing to pay, but again live off those that have. The wives and families of vets are the forgotten equation of the support system and they are not able to recover.

Understanding comes from being open-minded and compassionate. Lack of knowledge and reality closes a lot of doors to communication. Listening to the wrong people helps no one, especially you. A closed mind is a mind that lacks knowledge and compassion.

If the public isn't given all the the facts, it will repeat Vietnam all over again at our expense. Edited media is shameful and so is anti-military media. It goes against every sacrifice the combatants risk for their country to find out their country couldn't care less.

We of the past are still paying for those judgments, even now.  Every veteran suffers from misinformation, bureaucratic bungling, political trickery, wasteful foreign policy, budget cuts, fraudulent bailouts, fraudulent government contracts, and a government that just doesn't care.

So what do you think of my views? We sacrifice, the wives sacrifice, the families sacrifice, and for what?  An anti-patriotic, anti-military government?

Tom Peck
USMC Vietnam
January-August '69
WIA 28 July "69



“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

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A Special Salute to Memorial Day

Service, Duty, Honor, Courage, Compassion, Unity, Brotherhood, Sacrifice, Patriotism, Gratitude, Reverence, and Personal Reflection are all words that come to mind when we think about why America has a Memorial Day.

This year, I wanted do something special for Vietnam veterans, in honor of Memorial Day.

A few weeks ago, I invited all of you to write something you will always remember about your first visit to The Wall.

Your responses were honest, heartfelt, and filled with a deep sense of pride that I will always remember.

You have touched The Wall and The Wall has touched back ... through your hearts.

Special Memorial Day Salute:  "Remembrances at The Wall"

Donald “Tack” Tackett

CJ. During my 31-year military career, I had many chances to visit, The Wall. I would not go.

Finally in 2004, our grunt company, Kilo 3/7 [’67-‘68], held our annual reunion in Washington DC. The Parks Services allowed us to have our memorial service on the knoll above The Wall.

Before the service, we all gathered at The Wall, many of us for the first time. Being there with my brothers from Vietnam meant the world to me. We cried, we laughed, we held each other, and we remembered the good times and the bad.

It was a very rewarding experience, one I will never forget. I would not have been able to do it if I had not been there with my brothers.

Thanks CJ for doing this. Semper Fi.


Lee Tucker

When I went to The Wall, a feeling of entering a hallowed place seemed to surround me.  Although I told myself I would be strong and pay my respects, I was met by a wonderful woman who was a volunteer guide at the wall.  She spoke to me and asked me what years I spent in Vietnam. I told her and she took me to that area. She then hugged me and welcomed me home.

I broke down and released many years of pent up emotion. I spent the next few hours there with other brothers and sisters from our war.

It was a very powerful and emotional day, but also a day I when was never prouder to be a Vietnam Veteran, surrounded by brothers and sisters that could never come home with me.  Our cause was just!  May they rest in peace.

The wall is a place for all of us who share the feelings that only we can feel, can go to pay our respects to our Brothers and Sisters who can't share those feelings. 

It’s a feeling of being together once again, if only in memory. 

It’s a feeling of pride and honor that you fought next to these brave warriors. 

It’s a sense of relief that none of these names that are honored have to feel the pain of so many. 

You can stand proud for the rest of your life's journey knowing you gave your best for your brothers and the country that you love. If you can get to The Wall, you will be grateful that you did. 58,479, but NEVER FORGOTTEN.


Curtis W. Scarbro

Sorry, CJ.  I haven’t been to The Wall yet.  I can’t bring myself to go, but it’s definitely on my list.  Maybe this year will be the one.

Dave Ramsey
As I made my way to The Wall, I started feeling an omnipresence of several Brothers whose names were inscribed in that black granite.

As I walked, it was as if each of those men were walking by my side. When I touched that Wall, I felt I personally knew each fallen warrior.

I watched as tears were being wiped away with trembling hands. Never have I experienced the reverence shown that day at The Wall. I don’t know, but it felt for that moment that I had been ushered back in time.

Moments later, I felt the comforting hand of my wife rubbing my side, tears had also filled her eyes, because she also remembered several of those names. We stood quietly, giving thanks to those brave men and women. May each rest in Gods arms forever.

Jack Palmeri:

My first visit was on Veterans Day, 11/11/92.  It started a "healing process" for me.

My second visit was on Veterans Day weekend, 11/11/12, at which time I had the great Honor and Privilege of reading my fallen brother, Jim's, name off.  He is Honored and Remembered on Panel 31W, Line 71, B/4/12, 199th LIB (Redcatchers).

Lawrence Blouir/WarHippy

Go to The Wall.  Please believe me, your fears will disappear the first time you touch a granite panel. You'll feel the life within, your tears will flow, and the burden you've carried for all these years will feel lighter.

You will begin to heal ...

Video:  Operation Freedom Bird 1992

Lea Jones

I spent two years writing and recording the soundtrack to "Viet Nam: An Inner View". By the time we finished recording, I felt like I knew as much about the experience as any civilian could know.

When I first visited the Wall, in 1994, I stood outside, in anguish, for more than an hour. I couldn't go in. I still tear up when I think about that day.

Skip Nelson

I first visited The Wall in 1997. I remember starting to walk on the walkway.  It gets higher and higher as you go along.

As I reached the apex, I totally lost it. It was a very emotionally moment.


Brian Swenson
A very hard, long walk in ’89. It is still hard today. It transforms you.

George Hermansen
I was there for the dedication and have been back several times.


Michael Lansford
I have never been to the real Wall and in reality, I probably never will. But looking at The Wall in pictures, I see many things, and I feel many emotions, both good and bad.

For some of us, we can see through The Wall and we understand who is on the other side looking back. These are friends, comrades, brothers, husbands, sons, and daughters, and I feel they are watching us, too.

I wonder what they are saying about us, as they stand together over there. Could be that each of our names is etched in the granite on their side of The Wall, because we fought beside them in Vietnam.

Then, as each of us leaves this world and passes through to their side, our name will disappear from the granite, one by one, to the very last name, until finally their side of The Wall is blank again, just as it was when The Wall was started back in '82. It's just something I ponder.


Tom Peck
I've been to the Wall twice. The last time was this past April, as part of a tour package, but tours don't allow you to really see what you want, how you want. All who are Inscribed on the Wall deserve to be
remembered, not just that day, but always.

Those that have passed reach out to comfort those of us seeking answers and comfort when all other doors are closed. Therapy comes from those who understand, and even though they are not among the living, their souls still speak the same language of compassion, unity, reality, sacrifice, Patriotism, brotherhood, and unselfish acts for fellow warriors, no matter the risk, or outcome. Our Warriors on The Wall deserve the Honor and more.

The Wall always causes one to pause and reflect. It’s such a mournful monument. So many ultimate sacrifices. The souls of warriors gone on before to eternal rest, a just reward, and peace at last.  Take Care CJ. God Bless and Watch Over You.

Harry Andrus
I have tried several times, but something in me says, “Do not go.” I want to real bad, but do not know if I can take it without some brothers there for comfort. I lost a lot of good brothers at Knotum during TET and it’s eating me alive. Why am I still here and they are all gone? I wonder why the Lord has spared me and not them.


Fred aka Tbb
The picture and images say it all. I have talked to several Vietnam vets who said that they can’t bring themselves to visit The Wall. I simply say to them, “If that’s a decision you can live with, that’s fine.” Many reply with just two words and then walk away, “Shut up.”

Steven F. Constine

I cried!
  

Larry Smith

I have never been to The Wall.  I would love to go some day.

Harry A. Welch

As to the Wall, I could not face it, as these were the guys who gave "all", whereas I was just an imposter who didn't get my brogans dirty.

I went to the wall, looked for some names, and then beat a hasty retreat.

Gary N Hollister

On my first and only visit to The Wall, I was in disbelief, seeing all those names of so many brave young men and women that had given their all. At the same time, it was good to visit all of my friends, if only in spirit.

I cried openly, but it helped so much. Finally, I feel that I was able to tell them all “good-bye”. Gary Hollister-C/2/3-199th Infantry.

John M. DeCillo

I went in '83 before the additional statues were in place. I would like to go again before final roll call.

Curtis W. Scarbro

It is still on my to-do list.  I've got to get over the fear of going. I don't know why I've got this fear, but I think this could be the year I finally get it done.

Bless you all, brothers and sisters.

Mary Davenport

 I took my mother to the wall, she could hardly walk, but it was so emotional that both of us dropped to our knees and bawled. I had to get help to get her up then and a vet helped.  She just kept thanking him.


Richard Lister
I haven’t been able to do The Wall in D.C. yet. I’ve been trying since it was built. I’ve been to the 173rd’s Wall at Ft. Benning and it’s long. I got back [from Nam] in 1967.


James M. Moore

My visit to the wall, my wife and I went with another couple. I didn't think the wall would bother me, what with being a hardened Hospital Corpsman.

I was telling my friend's wife about a corpsman who went over with me.  I said, "He was just 19"-- That's all I got out, when the dam burst and the tears came flooding. I was slumped over the podium.

I felt a hand on my back. I thought it was my friend's wife, but when I looked up, it was my own wife. She said "You've held that in for too many years. Let it out".

Darrell “Cris” Criswell

A little overwhelming. It's hard to see people's names I served with in Vietnam that never came home with me.

Tom Phillips

I have never been to the wall, CJ.  I get tears just seeing pics of it.  I will one day though.

Brian McDonnell

Our Legacy:
This past Memorial Day weekend, as is my custom, I went down to the Wall a few times. It is always a contemplative experience. Aside from the VN vets and tourists there were a few Iraq and Afghanistan veterans who were moved by their experience.

Prior to the Wall, I used to go to Arlington Cemetery on Veterans Day. There were times when there would only be 10 or 20 people in attendance for the wreath laying. Then Jan Scruggs had a vision and The Wall was erected. That was a game changer. The Wall is now the most visited memorial in Washington.

Now there is a plethora of worthy veteran-related charities: Wounded Warrior, Yellow Ribbon, etc., all established to assist our more recent veterans. It came to me that this public outpouring of support for those who serve is the legacy of the VN Veteran. 

Whether this is a grateful nation at work, or just the delayed guilt reaction of the American public to their shameful apathy, at best, toward our generation is something that may never be fully understood. I tend to believe that upon reflection, the American public has realized that regardless of our politics, we must always honor and support those brave men and women who put themselves in harm’s way when called upon. 

I am glad that these veterans will benefit from this appreciation, however inadequate it may be. It gives me solace to believe that our experience may lead to a greater expression of gratitude for their sacrifice and hopefully, adequate support to heal their wounds.

Bob Snuffy Smith

I could hardly see it for the tears. Semper Fi. 1968 7th Marines.


James Hathorn
I would like to visit the wall but I probably won't. It’s just the way it is; however, the names are all of my brothers and sisters who could not get this far with me. I miss them, but we will all be together in the blink of an eye. "They were not here before, they will not be here again, but they are here always.”


Bruce Wayne Thompson

Detachment B-41, 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne)

Vietnam 67-69

Sierra Vista, Arizona
I served in Vietnam from September 1967, until April 1969. 

Shortly before coming home, I got a letter from my parents saying that two of my high school buddies had stopped by the house to inquire about me. My folks assured them that I was fine and would be home soon, and that they had been in touch with me very recently. My friends then admitted that they had heard I had been killed.

Fast forward to 1984, my first visit to the Wall.  I don't know what made me do it, but I looked up my own name in the books listing all the casualties of the war.  Sure enough, there was an entry for Bruce W. Thompson, who was killed in March 1969 (while I was still there).  SGT Thompson and I even shared the exact same middle name -- Wayne.

That explains why my friends had mistakenly thought I was killed in action.  I stared at that name for a long time.  It haunts me to this day.  This is what it looks like:

Diane Shirk

Our kids thought the picture you posted of a man at the wall was a one I had taken of their Dad.

The first time we went to The Wall in 2006, he discovered that several of his men were killed on his birthday. It was a life changing day for him.

Larry Brewer

I cried like a baby.  I’m a Nam Vet ’69-’70.

Wes Utley

The wall brings tears to my eyes for the loss of the brothers and sisters.

My best friend and I joined at the same time and two years later, his brother joined the Army. Donny’s name is on the wall and every time I think about this young boy killed in Nam, I cry for his loss and all the brothers and sisters.

My best friend died last year a day after my 69th birthday. I miss them both.

Michael Lian

CJ, what you're doing is a class act. I never went to The Wall for the same reason I did not want to see the World Trade Center after 9/11. Too much emotion. I don't know how to handle it.

Richard Clark

I've been to The Traveling Wall and it effects everyone just as much.  Love to all bros and sisters. God Bless.


George Miller
Ten years ago, I took the trip to The Wall. Too much feeling overran me. I couldn’t hold my place but for a few minutes. I don’t know if I can stand to ever visit that black beautiful tribute to so many buddies.

Howard Barron

My thoughts at my first visit to The Wall was one of a heavy heart.  I felt that all these HEROES were let down by the USA deserting South Vietnam, especially when they needed us most. It was like a slap in the face to all the living Veterans, myself included.

I'll never forget the way we were treated when we returned home to an UNGRATEFUL Nation.

On my next visit, I apologized on behalf of a Greatful Band of Brother Veterans. “Heroes, your cause was just and right.  You are not forgotten!  R.I.P. Brothers and Sisters.”

Ray Heely
To this day I'm not scared of much, but visiting that Wall might break me. Hopefully, someday.


Chris Shultz
I went to The Wall in D.C. once. I leaned on a tree and bawled my eyes out.


Duke Schechter

I didn't make it to the wall until 1990. The temp was in the '60s, shirtsleeve weather, but the closer I got, the colder I felt -- to the point where I was shivering. I walked the length of it, pausing to scan for names I knew from '68-'69.

When I reached the far end, I had to get a POW/MIA bracelet -- when the name on my first one came home, I had sent it to him. I picked one from the bucket, but something just 'felt wrong', so I dropped it back to pull out another. This one felt like it just jumped into my hand.

When I got back to the hotel and opened it up, it turned out to be the CO of an outfit I'd served with...

Niko Lorris

The first time I was there was for the dedication. I was not able to get near it and stood in the grass, way back. I went there twice more before I was able to walk down the path, stop at Panel 2E, raise a salute to the men who gave ALL in the IA Drang Valley 7^th Cavalry.  Then I stopped at panel 27W to find my Brother and Friend, John C. Driver, Line 99. We met in 1964 at Ft Dix, New Jersey for basic training and served again in Viet-Nam.

I cried like never before and I still do every time I go.  It’s been years since, but I will try to this year.  I find it very disturbing emotionally, but cathartic, too.  I cry now just thinking about my upcoming visit.

If at all possible I will be at the Wall on Memorial Day. CJ, maybe we can meet. I'll take you to lunch at the Gramasy Hotel. Nice place I have been there before.

Call sign Long Ranger 2 … “OUT”

Tim Espinosa

Tim Espinosa

My one and only visit to the Wall was Memorial weekend of 2002. It was the first big event after 9/11.

There were so many bikes there. I never got an official count, but at least 750,000. It was very moving.

The Traveling Wall visited my home town of Lancaster, Ohio, from 10/30/'13 to 11/4/'13. It was at our fairgrounds and it was also a moving experience.

Ron Benner

It was in 1984, I believe.  I was in DC to run The Marine Corp Marathon. My sons were little and I was a little reluctant to go. I remember the boys were running around, like boys do, and they asked me what was wrong.

My lady took them off to the side and I walked along The Wall alone. DC traffic was kind of noisy and yet when I walked close to The Wall,  it was completely quiet. Powerfully quiet!

I go back when it feels like I should for Rolling Thunder.

Mike Lovern

My feelings were mixed to say the least. Sadness, Hurt, Joy, Humbled, and many more.

Bill Gallaher

… not enough time to cry all my tears.

Lawrence Charles Roelofsen, Jr.

As a Vietnam Veteran, I have not yet been able to go visit The Vietnam Wall. I have been able to go to the Mobile Vietnam Wall that was just here in Seminole County Florida.

We had the veterans stand down here a month ago. I got to go to that and The Mobil Wall.


Vernon Pete James
My first time to see the Wall was Spring of 1985. I was a chaperone for my daughter's high school band trip to DC.

Not only was I awestruck by the beautiful memorial, but by the kids’ reactions to seeing it. Here was a bunch of rowdy high schoolers, and they are somber and quiet. Those that had questions were asking them in low tones.

I just found it to be amazing.

John Weisenberger

My first time was only two years ago. My daughter had told me how quiet it was in front of The Wall, compared to the other monuments.

I was not prepared for the emotional toll it took on me when I first saw it. I cried and was not the least bit embarrassed.

I had researched the names of people I served with who were listed there and was able to get engravings of them. I actually felt a small shock when I first touched the Wall, but I'm sure it was just my imagination.


John Johnson
When facing this wall, we realize every Vietnam veteran that's around today could have been on The Wall. Thank God we missed the chance. We gave some, but they gave all. God bless our brothers on The Wall.

William Pearson

It was very difficult to see all those great Americans. I too stood off and observed how serene the whole area was, like no one was there. It caused my heart to beat faster than normal, emotions ran deep, and I walked the line feeling so sad that we fought for nothing.

Feeling weird, because I never looked at the names. I knew all the ones that were with me and from my hometown. We lost 1,000 from the state of Washington.

Owen T. McCandlis was my hero, deceased 6 Feb. 1970. He was 26 years old. He died in Hue, and I brought him home.

Thanks, CJ, for your help in easing the pain that we all carry. Maybe, the people who declare war could walk among the names and decide a different approach...next conflict?



**Would you like to add thoughts and feelings about your first visit to The Wall?  Please feel free to leave them in the comment section. ~CJ



“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale