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REFLECTIONS IN THE
WALL
COPYRIGHT 2001 - AL KIMBALL |
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Webmaster note: This was sent to me by Al
Kimball - 128th AHC Tomahawks. The following is his introduction to
the article he wrote.
I wrote about my visit to the WALL during rolling thunder. I
have had it published in a local magazine but sent it to your site in care
of the webmaster in hopes of having it posted there for the HAWKs to
read. I really appreciate the web page, it has helped me to confront
the years and helped me to make the visit I wrote about.
I look forward to seeing it on the page. Please let me know if you can use
it and if so, when it will appear. thanks
again, Al Kimball |
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REFLECTIONS IN THE WALL
I once saw a painting, artist unknown, titled "REFLECTIONS". It
depicted a returned vet, right arm outstretched, head bowed, leaning
against the WALL. While he wore civvies, had long hair and a beard, his
reflection in the WALL wore jungle fatigues, flak jacket, and carried an
M-16. Their outstretched hands met at the surface of the stone, fingers
touching. The significance of this painting escaped me at the time, but it’s
meaning was to be brought forcefully home to me years later by an
experience of my own.
My first visit to the wall was in 1988 or 89, on a vacation trip to DC.
While it was not my intention to visit the WALL, I happened upon it while
touring the other memorials there on the mall. As I stood on the top of
the rise, looking down on it, it seemed as though it’s curved shape was
a giant reflecting antenna, radiating at me the force of the more than
58,000 names engraved there. The cold, dark marble seemed to represent to
me the heart and soul of the nation and government that greeted our return
34 years ago. This was as close as I wanted to get at the time, I turned
and walked away, not looking back.
I again visited the WALL in 1995, with my wife and best friend, Ruth.
With her encouragement and support, I knew I could do it. As she walked by
my side, I made the walk down the curved way, looking down at the memento’s
others had left there for their lost loved ones. I cast furtive glances
out of the corner of my eyes, not wanting to focus on the WALL, knowing if
I did, my eyes would find a name I recognized. Once again I left without
touching the WALL, or acknowledging the effect it and what it represented
had on my life.
I have been an avid motorcycling enthusiast since I was a teenager,
cutting my riding teeth on Cushman Eagles, Harley Hummer’s and 45’s,
and riding an old rigid Panhead and Indian Chief when I was still in high
school. I have recently been successful in infecting Ruth with this love
of the ride, and she went so far as to sell her beloved 1950 Piper classic
airplane to purchase her own 2000 HD Fatboy. Among our group of riding
friends is another Viet Nam vet, Bruce Fuller, who, along with his wife
Nova, are very active riders.
When hearing that Bruce and another member of our group, Jim Ennd, were
planning a run to the ROLLING THUNDER ride to the WALL in DC, I decided
this would be a good opportunity to again confront the WALL. I won’t go
into detail about our ride up or back, as that is covered elsewhere in
other articles. Another vet/pilot/rider friend from Florida, Mike Danforth,
joined us in DC. Mike had never seen the WALL, and I went with him as he
began the walk. I could go no further than the 2nd panel, and
had to go back, tears streaming, bucking the crowds of people on the
walkway. As Mike and I sat on the steps near the speaker’s stand,
staring at the WALL, listening to the various presentations, Bruce and Jim
walked up. Bruce had just had his own encounter with the WALL, and,
knowing of my hesitation to confront it gave me encouragement to go back
and do it.
With Bruce’s words in my ears, and Mike behind me, I
again made the walk. I began by looking down at the messages and mementos,
and as we walked I began to lift my gaze to the actual marble, and the
names on it. We went to the panel, 01E, 1965-66, where but for an
incredible amount of luck and the grace of a benevolent God, my name would
be. The emotional feelings were incredible, and as I too leaned forward
and touched the WALL, I came to realize the meaning of the painting I had
seen so many years before.
Through the mist in my eyes, my reflection became an apparition, that
of a gaunt faced, hollow eyed youth, wearing an APH-5 flight helmet and
flak jacket, with the embroidered wings of an air crewman sewn above his
left breast pocket. His arm stretched out, fingers touching the WALL where
mine did, fingertip to fingertip. His message became clear to me then,
seeming to say" Let it go, brother, let it flow through to me. I can
carry part of the load for you." That was the message of the
painting. Let those who made the ultimate sacrifice help those of us who
made it back. My personal vision of the WALL changed then, I no longer saw
it as cold and black and heartless. Those 58000 names gave it heart and
soul and life and meaning, and it absorbed a bit of all of us who touched
it.
There are the names of some of my brothers of the air on
that WALL, and with the help and support of a loving wife and three
brothers of the wind, Bruce, Jim, and Mike, I came to fully appreciate the
symbolism of the WALL. The sleep may come easier now, maybe not; the
dreams may be milder now, maybe not; but I have seen the reflection, and I
understand.
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