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Our Memorial: "The Wall"

By Jeff Buckley

It was Sunday morning at 3AM and I was pondering about going the "The Wall," our memorial in Washington DC. Lying there my inner voice struck me saying "Go" accompanied by a secure self-assured feeling that the trip would be personally rewarding. I would find my meaning at "The Wall." Hermann Hesse's "Journey to the East" came to mind and it came to me that his trip would be an extrapolation of my Vietnam experience. That is, I had to go.

On Memorial Day 1985 I began my trek to "The Wall." Walking down Pennsylvania Avenue I encountered a Vietnamese couple hawking souvenirs at a sidewalk street site. Flashback to Saigon? It was hot and humid which emphasized my flashback. I enjoyed the heat and the humidity like I did in Saigon in '68.

Not knowing where the memorial site was, I stopped a couple. The man wore a bush hat so I knew he was vet. "Down past the Washington monument and veered toward the right. I heard cannon shots and began to count them. I was beginning to see more guys in jungle fatigues so I knew I was getting close. I heard voices over a loud speaker accompanied by somber music and I was there. A crowd gathered along a roped-off portion awaiting the ceremonies.

After a few moments of reflections, I remembered the "Three Sentries" and saw that I could get close. At the base of the stature lay wreaths, flowers, etc and behind the ammo belt of the one carrying the M-60 was picture of a child. A boy who undoubtedly lost his father. The "Three Sentries" stare out over the Memorial as if they are protecting the sacredness of the grounds. It was beautiful.

As the tour bus came to a stop outside the Lincoln Memorial, my inner voice said, "This bus isn't going to start" as it cam to a halt. "Back in 15 minutes," the driver said. With video equipment in hand I headed back to "The Wall." A very good friend of mine, Matt Cestaric, lost his father, Joseph Cestaric, in Vietnam. I promised Matt I'd find him. I looked at my watch and it was time to leave and not having completed my mission, to find Joseph Cestaric's name on the wall, again I vowed to return.

In front of the "Three Sentries" is what appears to be the walkway to the wall. However, it is chained off after a few yards, apparently intending to be a holding area for visitors to wait their turn with the "Sentries. I walked down the walkway and was surprised to find myself cut short. Another visitor also deceived by the false walkway, said, "Hold it! This doesn't go anywhere." The symbolism between his statement and our involvement in Vietnam hit me. "Perfect to describe the Vietnam War," I thought.

Walking out of the false entry or ambush, I encountered a book which I knew listed the names in alphabetical order and their location. I came to Joseph Cestaric, MSGT, Panel 4E, line 20. Walking west to east I came to the center point, which begins in 1959. I counted down 4 panels and began looking for his name. Not finding it, I counted lines and hope he'd be there. What I saw stunned me. Adjacent to Joseph Cestaric is Francis Buckley; not a relative but nevertheless my last name. Our names together on the wall! I stared for minutes not believing what I saw. The urge to lose it was coming over me. I felt like falling on the ground and spilling my guts for the dead, missing, maimed and myself, but for some reason I maintained. "It's here," I thought. The magic that lends sacredness to a memorial.

From the center of the wall I stared out at the sentries. I looked to the bronze, yet "lifelike tribute for strength and found it. Walking westward, towards the "real world," I realized that the same emotional development that got me through 'Nam, the ability to ignore the horror and the surrealness of the whole situation again surfaced. However, maybe I should have flowed with my emotions. Maybe I should have let everyone know how angry and frustrated I was/am living in a situation which is real life surrealism. Light is dark and dark is light. Accomplish your objectives but don't ask why. Live through a year or more of terror, ecstasy, where North Vietnamese regulars, Viet Cong, my mama-san and even GI's put rifle rounds through my hootch. Smile by day and try to kill you at night. Kill you by day and smile at night.

They got Joe Cestaric and 58,000 others in that war/non-war. Myself and millions of others dodged the sabotage then but still carry it with us now. The question is "who sabotaged whom?"

Nevertheless fellow Vietnam vets, "The Wall" will take you back. Back to the 'Nam. I swear you can smell it and feel it. You may be here but you're still there. Some may still be there, but at "The Wall" we are all home.

Jeff Buckley
Edmonds, WA