The Memorial....
The photo above was taken by Joe Galloway at LZ XRay, in the Ia Drang Valley of Vietnam, on either the 14th or 15th of November 1965. I do not know the name of the dead soldier being carried in the poncho, I'm not sure Joe does either. There were 78 other American soldiers carried out in ponchos during those three days of combat and three times that number wounded. Almost double that number died 2 days later at LZ Albany. I have cropped this photo and what you don't see is a row of dead American 1st Cav troopers who have done their duty, paid the ultimate price and are awaiting their turn to go home. This is why we celebrate Memorial Day.
It will be 40 years this November that this young man went home to his family for the last time. He would probably be 59 or 60 years old now. Think of his family, his wife if he had one, his friends and his community, because undoubtedly they are thinking of him and their loss this weekend. They are thinking of the pride this man had in his unit, the patriotism that took him to fight far from home, the burdens that he bore with dignity, they wonder what his last thoughts were. They are thinking of what might have been. This is why we celebrate Memorial Day.
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The things they carried...
From, "The Things They Carried"
by Tim O'Brien
"The things they carried were largely determined by necessity. Among the necessities or near-necessities were P-38 can openers, pocket knives, heat tabs, wristwatches, dog tags, mosquito repellent, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, salt tablets, packets of Kool-Aid, lighters, matches, sewing kits, Military Payment Certificates, C-rations and two or three canteens of water.....
The carried diseases, among them malaria and dysentery. The carried lice and ringworm and leeches and paddy algae and various rots and molds. They carried the land itself--Vietnam, the place, the soil a powdery orange-red dust that covered their boots and fatigues and faces. They shared the weight of memory. They carried what others could no longer bear. Often, they carried each other, the wounded and the weak. They carried the sky......
For the most part they carried themselves with poise and a kind of dignity. Now and then, however, there were times of panic when they squealed or wanted to squeal but couldn't, when they twitched and made moaning sounds and covered their heads and said Dear Jesus and flopped around on the earth and fired their weapons blindly and cringed and sobbed and begged for the noise to stop and went wild and made stupid promises to themselves and to God and to their mothers and fathers, hoping not to die."
