[Congressional Record Volume 145, Number 78 (Thursday, May 27, 1999)]
[Senate]
[Page S6278]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                        MEMORIAL DAY OBSERVANCE

  Mr. DORGAN. Mr. President, I received a very touching letter from a 
Vietnam Veteran from my state, who was recently awarded the Silver Star 
for his bravery during the Vietnam Conflict.
  Helping Al Myers get that Silver Star and the recognition he deserved 
for so long was a very rewarding experience. Al sent me this letter. It 
is a fictional remembrance of a soldier who's name is on the Vietnam 
Memorial.
  The letter defines the importance of paying tribute to our nation's 
honored soldiers who have fought for, won, and kept our freedom, 
whether that tribute comes in the form of our nation building a great 
``Black Granite Wall,'' or simply a family member putting flowers on a 
beloved white tombstone at a veteran's cemetery. It exemplifies the 
strength, dedication, and sacrifice our nation's military men and 
women, and their families, make. We are forever indebted to them, and 
it fills me with great pride and humility to honor those who have made 
the ultimate sacrifice to preserve our way of life as Americans.
  I thought it was very important to read it in honor of the Memorial 
Day Observance on Monday. It touched my heart and I wanted to share it 
here on the Floor today. It is called ``The Wall from the Other Side.''

                      The Wall From the Other Side

                             (Pat Camunes)

       At first there was no place for us to go until someone put 
     up that ``Black Granite Wall.'' Now, every day and night, my 
     Brothers and Sisters wait to see the many people from places 
     afar file in front of this ``Wall.'' Many people stopping 
     briefly and many for hours and some that come on a regular 
     basis. It was hard at first, not that it's gotten any easier, 
     but it seems that many of the attitudes towards that Vietnam 
     War we were involved in have changed. I can only pray that 
     the ones on the other side have learned something, and more 
     ``Walls'' as this one, needn't be built.
       Several members of my unit, and many that I did not 
     recognize, have called me to The Wall by touching my name 
     engraved upon it. The tears aren't necessary, but are hard 
     even for me to hold back. Don't feel guilty for not being 
     with me, my Brothers. This was my destiny as it is yours to 
     be on that side of The Wall. Touch The Wall, my Brothers, so 
     that I can share in the memories that we had. I have learned 
     to put the bad memories aside and remember only the pleasant 
     times that we had together. Tell our other Brothers out there 
     to come and visit me, not to say Good-bye but to say Hello 
     and be together again . . . even for a short time . . . and 
     to ease that pain of loss that we all still share.
       Today, an irresistible and loving call summons me to The 
     Wall. As I approach, I can see an elderly lady . . . and as I 
     get closer, I recognize her--It's Momma! As much as I have 
     looked forward to this day, I have also dreaded it, because I 
     didn't know what reaction I would have.
       Next to her, I suddenly see my wife and immediately think 
     how hard it must have been for her to come to this place, and 
     my mind floods with the pleasant memories of 30 years past. 
     There's a young man in a military uniform standing with his 
     arm around her--My God!--he has to be my son! Look at him 
     trying to be the man without a tear in his eye. I yearn to 
     tell him how proud I am, seeing him stand tall, straight and 
     proud in his uniform.
       Momma comes closer and touches The Wall, and I feel the 
     soft and gentle touch I had not felt in so many years. Dad 
     has crossed to this side of The Wall, and through our touch, 
     I try to convince her that Dad is doing fine and is no longer 
     suffering or feeling pain. I see my wife's courage building 
     as she sees Momma touch The Wall and she approaches and lays 
     her hand on my waiting hand. All the emotions, feelings and 
     memories of three decades past flash between our touch and I 
     tell her that . . . it's all right . . . carry on with your 
     life and don't worry about me . . . I can see as I look into 
     her eyes that she hears and a big burden has been lifted from 
     her on wings of understanding.
       I watch as they lay flowers and other memories of my past. 
     My lucky charm that was taken from me and sent to her by my 
     CO . . . a tattered and worn teddy bear that I can barely 
     remember having as I grew up as a child . . . and several 
     medals that I had earned and were presented to my wife. One 
     is the Combat Infantry badge that I am very proud of, and I 
     notice that my son is also wearing this medal. I had earned 
     mine in the jungles of Vietnam and he had probably earned his 
     in the deserts of Iraq.
       I can tell that they are preparing to leave, and I try to 
     take a mental picture of them together, because I don't know 
     when I will see them again. I wouldn't blame them if they 
     were not to return, and can only thank them that I was not 
     forgotten. My wife and Momma near The Wall for one final 
     touch, and so many years of indecision, fear and sorrow are 
     let go. As they turn to leave, I feel my tears that had not 
     flowed for so many years, form as if dew drops on the other 
     side of The Wall.
       They slowly move away with only a glance over their 
     shoulders. My son suddenly stops and slowly returns. He 
     stands straight and proud in front of me and snaps a salute. 
     Something draws him near The Wall and he puts his hand upon 
     the etched stone and touches my tears that had formed as dew 
     drops on the face of The Wall . . . and I can tell that he 
     senses my presence and the pride and love that I have for 
     him. He falls to his knees and the tears flow from his eyes 
     and I try my best to reassure him that it's all right, and 
     the tears do not make him any less of a man. As he moves back 
     wiping the tears from his eyes, he silently mouths, ``God 
     Bless you, Dad . . .''
       God Bless You, Son . . . we Will meet someday, but in the 
     meanwhile go on your way . . . there is no hurry at all.
       As I see them walk off in the distance, I yell loud to Them 
     and Everyone there today, as loud as I can: Thank You For 
     Remembering. . . . Thank You All For Remembering . . . and as 
     others on this side of The Wall join in, I notice the U.S. 
     Flag, Old Glory, that so proudly flies in front of us 
     everyday, is flapping and standing proudly straight out in 
     the wind from our gathering numbers this day . . . and I 
     shout again, and . . . again . . . and again . . .
       Thanks for Remembering!
       Thanks for Remembering!
       Thanks for Remembering!

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