By: Jerry Burke
The Wall, unlike most of the monuments, recalls a chapter of American history that cannot be considered an unalloyed success. Presidents Washington, Lincoln and Jefferson, honored by a monument and two memorials, are arguably the top three chief executives we've ever had. The National Archives and the Smithsonian house our collective accomplishments and innovations. The new World War II Memorial honors our shining moment in defense of democracy. All of them are grand in nature and scope, as they should be.
But the Wall, the Vietnam War Memorial, is different. It is simple. There are no brilliant quotes cut in marble above the entrance. The only words are the names of more than 58,000 men and women who died. And unlike other Washington memorials, the wall is interactive. Visitors can touch it, or ask a National Parks worker for a rubbing of a name.
There's also a small ledge at the base of the monument where family and friends leave anything and everything: flowers, boots, cigarettes, letters, medals. Occasionally, photographs of young soldiers, maybe from their high school yearbooks, smiling, no names on the back, are left at the well. And when I see those, I lose it.
I go to the Wall every time I'm in Washington to remind myself that even the great United States of America, the country I love and believe in, can be guilty of hubris. And the ones who pay for it aren't the politicians of today, but the leaders and citizens of tomorrow.
Last week, at the first presidential debate, President Bush chastised Senator John Kerry for sending "mixed messages" about Iraq. "I don't see how you can lead this country to succeed in Iraq if you say 'wrong war, wrong time, wrong place,'" the President said. "What message does that send our troops, what message does that send to our allies, what message does that send to the Iraqis?"
Well, Mr. President, what message does it send when it turns out there were no weapons of mass destruction like you said there most definitely were? What kind of message does it send when, for months, you linked Saddam and Osama as partners in crime? What are we to think when those claims are proved so false that you even have to admit there was no link?
What message does it send to the troops when you say we are there to liberate a nation of people who, in reality, just want us to get the hell out of there? Maybe, just maybe, wiping off bits of flesh that five minutes ago used to be your best friend is a little more demoralizing than hearing Kerry, a man who fought in Vietnam and in America to end Vietnam, say that Iraq was the "wrong war."
A week before I came screaming into this world, one 2nd Lt. Richard Van de Geer recorded a message to a buddy back home in Ohio. "It isn't very easy for me to even tell myself what the motivation was to come here. I went into this searching for something," said de Geer. "I have it now. If I could, I would probably go home. Adios, my friend."
Four days later, de Geer, the last name on the Wall and the last man to officially die in Vietnam, was shot down in his helicopter during the last official mission.
Twenty years from now, I wonder what kind of monument we'll going to have for the 1,060 (so far) dead in Iraq. I wonder who the lucky soldier is whose name will be last on the list. I wonder who his or her last letter or e-mail will be sent to. I wonder if they'll be able to say they found what they were looking for.
You're right, Dubya. This is "hard work." It's high time you let the adults handle it. Americans are dying in Iraq for a mistake because, like Vietnam, we don't want to believe that our leaders could be capable of making such a grave misinterpretation of reality.
