The Other Side Of The Wall by Patrick Camunes
At first there was no place for us to go until someone put up that "Black
Granite Wall." Now, everyday and night, my Brothers and my Sisters wait to see
the many people from places afar file in front of this "Wall." Many stopping
briefly and many for hours and so 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 learn 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 we can share in the memories that we had.
I have learn 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 standing 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 convey to 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.