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Author’s Note: This seemed such a simple act
but it seemed to have a much bigger meaning and impact on our communist escorts
than anything else we could have said or done to impress them.
A
SACRED CEREMONY IN AN OLD GRAVEYARD
Our group had just come back from spending a
afternoon along the Cambodian border area and looking at the old VC headquarters
that was once hidden in those jungles during the long years of the war. Now it
is a national historic site.
We had to have special permission
to get here and were the only tourist there. We had to take on two more “tour
guides” and pay them as well to enable us to visit that area. The deal was that
we had to take along these young communists more for them watching us then
guiding us around, after all we already had a tour guide and a driver – now
there was one Vietnamese guide for each of the four of us.
We did not let any of the red tape
or bureaucratic crap get to us and we just played the games and enjoyed
ourselves – after all we were not spies or the enemy. So we established a good
and warm relationship with these 3 men and one woman.
On our way back to our hotel it was
just beginning to get dark and there were only a few precious minutes before it
would be totally dark. I had wanted to stop and visit one of their war
graveyards that was just off the highway we were on. This particular one had
huge Soviet made statues that looked very impressive as the cast huge shadows
over the graves.
We convinced the group to stop and
get out so we could walk around and visit the graves. This particular cemetery
was filled with soldiers from the VC and NVA and by the dates on the graves
these guys were killed by our own units when we were in country. It seemed that
every one of us had some direct or indirect responsibility for those buried
there. It was rather emotionally moving to think about it in that light. We
decided that we could not ignore what had happened to their warrior and not own
as well. So we decided to do a ceremony and honor all the dead from both sides.
Darkness had fallen on the cemetery
by the time we got a large handful of incense together. Our guide “Tonto” set
them on fire – and a blazing light of fire and smoke billowed up from his hands.
He waved the sticks around until the fire was no longer flaming but it was now
red hot and smoking. He then gave each of us a dozen or two to carry inside a
little temple to Buddha that was erected on a small rise of ground just above
the graves themselves.
As we walked into the temple with
our incense sticks smoking the temple began to fill up with our fragrant smoke
and it got cloudy and surreal. We all said a few words in respect to all the
warriors who lost their lives in that area and to our own friends and comrades
who lost their own lives there in battles long forgotten. We each went up to the
large Buddha and placed our smoking incense in front of the statue. Then we
bowed and silently said a prayer. This continued until all of us had placed some
of our incense in the sand fill bowl in front of Buddha. Then we walked down to
the grave sites and placed individual sticks of incense at each one until we had
placed several hundred on the graves. In the darkness you could see the little
red glowing sticks at each place we left them. It looked very mystical with the
smoke wafting slowly skyward into total darkness.
We all stood quietly with our own
thoughts. I noticed that all our guides were reverently observing us and what we
had just done. I do not believe that they had ever seen anything like this done
before by Americans. I know that they were moved by this small gesture; I just
hope that perhaps they all came away with a newer found respect for all American
veterans.
We all got back in the van. No
one said a word. It was a very quiet but most peaceful ride back to the hotel.
We all felt some kind of spiritual connection with this place and with each
other.
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