Located in the far eastern part of the cemetery, not so very far apart, are the graves of two young men from the town of Haven who gave their lives in service of their country in the Vietnam War. Casualties of the war, each of the young men lost their lives less than a week apart from one another. Every time I go to visit the cemetery, I always find myself stopping off at their graves. And it doesn't matter that nearly half of a century is soon to have passed, I still find myself at times with a lump in my throat as I read the inscriptions on their gravestones. The last time I was there, an Indian summer day in late October, I took these pictures.
Sergio Albert was the first to die. His death on the 12th of June that year was a huge shock to the little town of Haven. The war in southeast Asia had been going on for a long time and somehow or another even though many young men from the area had been called up for duty, our town had escaped losing one of its own. Sergio's death, at age 25, changed all of that. It was a sobering thought to everyone, especially the 12-year girl that I used to be. His grave is covered by a slab of granite, inscribed with a portion of one of the last letters he wrote home to his family. I still get chills down my spine any time that I read it, as shown below.
Henry Lee Fisher was the second to die. He had graduated with my older sister's class at Haven in 1965. Barely out of high school two years, he was killed a couple of weeks after his 20th birthday. In my mind he will always be the same young man whose senior picture is displayed with all of the rest of his classmates in the halls of Haven High School and not the 65-year old man that he would have been today. Both Henry and Sergio~gone way too soon.
I had the chance to tell their stories to a group of students I was working with at school during one of their reading sessions. You see, the story that the kids were reading was about Veteran's Day and they were having a really hard time understanding what it all meant and how it affected them in any way. Sadly, the group that I was working with had never even realized what Veteran's Day meant or who might even be considered a veteran. After I shared what had happened to the two "fallen" from Haven, they began to understand a little bit better and even began to ask questions. And although those students are not yet experts on the subject, when Sunday the 11th of November comes around, they will have at least heard the term "Veteran's Day". And for that, I am glad.
I seldom have spoken much about how I felt about the Vietnam War, and I call it a "war" even though it was never officially declared by the United States as one, but I am at a point in time where I have finally come to "peace" with my feelings of it. By the end of the U.S. involvement there, our country's casualties alone set at 58,220 KIA (killed in action) with 303,644 wounded. Put into perspective, the death toll was the equivalent of all of the citizens of my community of Hutchinson, Kansas plus the citizenry of our neighbours to the east, Newton. I know that the prospect of war is inevitable and sometimes a necessary evil but I will never believe that our country should have been there~I didn't believe it then and I do not believe it today. And even having said all of that, my heart is filled with pride for the young men and women who gave their lives in Vietnam as well as for those who have served there. It's a strange feeling to have actually and I just pray that we never have to face such a thing again.
Last year on the occasion of my 56th birthday, I got my first ever tattoo. (yeah, yeah, yeah...who would have thought?) I decided that if I ever were to get a tattoo, it would be one that would help to tell a story about something important to me that had happened in my life. If someone were to ask me what it stood for, that I could help them learn one of life's lessons by explaining it. That's why I got the tattoo shown below, last October 26th.
Long ago in the land of far, far away~there was a young teenage girl (that'd be me) who joined many of her other classmates in high school by wearing POW bracelets. Those bracelets had inscribed upon them the name, rank, branch of service, and date of disappearance of prisoners of war in Vietnam and the rest of southeast Asia. I wore mine faithfully, never taking it off, for over 5 years. Only when it finally broke into two pieces, did I have to put it away in a jewelry case. But you know, I NEVER forgot the name of the man on my bracelet~LCMDR Lee Nordahl. Now, I have yet to understand how I could remember his name for over 40 years. Geesch, in the last week alone I have forgotten numerous times where I put my school keys, cell phone, and the latest victim to Peggy Miller's forgetfulness, my computer charger. The best I could explain it, the name of that POW, Lee Nordahl, meant something special to me. And if telling his story means that a new generation of "12-year olds" gains an understanding of what went on in that time so very long ago, then I gladly do so.
This Sunday, the 11th of November, is Veteran's Day. It is named such in order that all people who have served in the armed forces, those who were killed and those who lived, should be honoured. No matter how we might feel about war, my sincere hope would be that we continue to honour those who have given it all for their country as well as those who have served or still serve today. It is my belief that we owe them that~thus to them I say "thank you" for your service. And as the "Good Book" says in John 15:13, "no greater love hath a man than this...that he would lay down his life for a friend." Good night friends and family~please dear ones take care of yourselves and also one another. This has been Thursday, the 8th day of November in the year 2012 and truly such a great day to be alive in! May peace be all of our journeys.
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