Still Remembering

Memorial Day, 2013

I can’t remember his name. I barely remember his friendly, sunburned face. Like a lot of us stationed at Di An, South Vietnam in 1968,  he went to bed after a long day’s work and, no doubt, fell asleep. Sometime in the dark hours of early morning, the Viet Cong launched a barrage of mortars, landing them right on top of us.

Having just returned from a month at Lai Khe, which received rocket and mortar fire many times every day and night I was there, I awoke at the first sound and dashed toward our bunker. By then, it was routine. My friends and I made it to safety that night—but he didn’t.

A couple of days after the attack, I recall a few of us attending a brief memorial service led by a chaplain we barely knew. An empty pair of combat boots and his empty helmet set upon his M-16 provoked a serious sense of loss. We left the meeting in silence and never talked about it with each other again.

It is likely his family and friends will remember him on Memorial Day. They probably still lament a life cut far too short, and what he might have become. For some reason, I remember him, too. He was one of the 58,150 others whose lives were lost during that far away war. He was one who lived where I lived.

The count goes on. A vast number of men and women, serving their country in uniform, have lost their lives in many conflicts. They still do. Since the beginning of this nation, their sacrifices have helped to preserve and protect this country, and they still do!

Like I said, I can’t remember his name and I barely remember his face. But this Memorial Day, for some reason, I remember him. I will remember others, as well. So will many of you.

God bless and comfort those who remember, and God bless the United States of America. 

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