I have been coming to this dark gray marble wall ever since it had been erected. A wall which harbors the names of every deceased solider, whether male or female, that had lost their lives so ruthlessly in Vietnam. My facial muscles begin to hurt after crying, or should I say from trying not to cry. I use to see just their names on the wall during the first few years that the wall was up, now I can see them so clearly and recently I can hear them.

"It’s ok Joe! You did your best to save your squad. You didn’t know nor did anyone else know that we were walking into a land mine. We saw how you tried to stop the blood from rushing from our chest and guts. We saw how you gathered our limbs and told us to pray to God. We were brothers though not blood related and shared a tight bond, not only of brotherhood but that of an important mission that was not supposed to fail. You got hurt as well Joe, we don’t know how you managed to help us when your leg was ripped open exposing a large bone. We saw you quickly tie a tourniquet below and above the wound and wrapped your shirt over the gapping hole. Those of us that were barely alive you made sure that we had our last sip of water. Then you cradled our heads or with some of us parts of our bodies and cried as we slipped away in your arms. Thanks Joe, you made it hurts less, we knew we were loved."

There were only eight of us in that squad and it had been just over two years before we were stationed in Central Vietnam to fight off the North. We had been through a lot together, but loosing all my brothers at one time caused my brain to just shut down. I thought that I too had died, only to wake up three months later to be reminded of what had happened by every one around. I come here often because I miss you guys.

"We miss you also Joe. We’re here to help you along the road in life, to give you strength to go on. You’re the real American Hero…you survived to tell the wrongs."

(An excerpt from "A Real American Hero)