Thursday, July 08, 1999
Years later, war memories remain strong
BY KAREN SAMPLES
The Cincinnati Enquirer
CRESTVIEW HILLS Years have gone by, and still his mother writes as if he had just left.
Love you and miss you. Mom.
Six words. Three decades of heartache.
The Vietnam Memorial has this effect on people. It draws from them a simple and bittersweet eloquence. At its base, they leave gifts that make clear the personal cost of war.
Mothers pen notes to their sons. Sisters write poems. Friends leave cryptic messages and cigarettes.
Over eight days in June and July, a half-size replica of the memorial sat in the parking lot of the Crestview Hills Mall. Hundreds of Northern Kentuckians visited the black slabs, etched with the names of some 58,000 dead and missing.
I read the mother's note to her boy. I heard men sobbing and children asking unanswerable questions.
On Monday, volunteers packed up the Moving Wall and all the artifacts. These will be shipped to Washington for safe-keeping.
Here are some of the items and messages I saw:
To Chester Wartman, a good friend. I'll remember.
Note to soldier: I love you Ron.
Regarding Ted Sweat: My high school classmate in Terre Haute. We never spoke to each other or had the same friends, but I remember how great you were in basketball, and I often remember your sacrifice.
On a handmade, wooden plaque, the words MIA and POW along with a single sentence: May the hand of God guide your souls.
Note to Steven D. Tanner of Bromley: Rest in peace. Love, mom and Mark.
Mr. Tanner died on Feb. 19, 1969, 10 days after beginning his tour in Vietnam. After his death, he was awarded the Bronze Star for bravery.
A government letter left at the Moving Wall described Mr. Tanner's heroism:
... the Marines came under a heavy volume of mortar, rocket-propelled grenade and automatic weapons fire. With complete disregard for his own safety, Private First Class Tanner delivered accurate suppressive fire upon the enemy force, thereby drawing fire to himself and enabling his companions to deploy into effective fighting positions.
Ignoring the hostile rounds impacting nearby, he resolutely continued his determined efforts until his companions had gained fire superiority, and in the ensuing engagement was mortally wounded by automatic weapons fire. His heroic, decisive actions inspired all who observed him and were instrumental in his platoon's routing of the hostile force.
To soldier Sigmond Szolton Klein: I think of you often. I miss you. - Sarge Mig.
From Micki White and her 10-year-old daughter, Meggie, a bag of gifts for soldier David Halpin. The bag contained a rosary, two Beanie Babies named Hope and Glory, and a silver MIA bracelet inscribed with his name.
Ms. White received the bracelet from a veteran eight years ago. She didn't know Mr. Halpin but wore it to show her support for missing soldiers. At the Moving Wall, she learned his status had changed to killed-in-action.
Ms. White and Meggie visited the wall three days in a row. They lighted candles for Mr. Halpin and sat next to his name.
Under the name of Harry Brach Jr., killed on Oct. 11, 1971, a page from a letter he wrote to his family:
Nothing new here, really. We came in yesterday around noon after 30 days out in the bush. Sure felt good to take a shower, shave off an inch of beard and also put on new, clean clothes. Then we got served beer and steaks! Real tasty. Course, it can't make up for the days of agony we saw in the bush. You think of your buddies who didn't make it and you wish like hell there would be something you could do, but it's too late. We grunts stick together. We wonder many times why we are here. We don't want to be, that's for sure.
A picture of Mr. Brach also was left at the wall.
In it, he looks very young.
Karen Samples is The Enquirer's Kentucky columnist. Her column appears on Sundays and Thursdays in The Kentucky Enquirer. She can be reached at 578-5584 or email
her at ksamples@enquirer.com
SAMPLES ARCHIVE