VietNow National Magazine

The Last Vietnam Veteran
It's 2049, and you are the last living Vietnam veteran

By Rich Sanders – VietNow National President

A visual definition of patriotism unfolded before my eyes several months ago on a pleasant fall day at the World
War II Memorial. I watched from afar as a family entered the memorial from the east. A middle-aged gentleman pushed an elderly man in a wheelchair toward the center of the area where all sounds are muffled by the low roar of the cascading water moving from the various settings. The middle-aged gentleman was accompanied by what appeared to be his wife and their son and daughter.

As they moved slowly “in,” the elderly man raised his hand in the air as a signal to stop as if he was leading a patrol. At that point, the elderly gentleman pushed off from the arms of the wheelchair and rose to his feet. His gaze moved in a trance-like motion from right to left and back to the right again. After several minutes, I could see a slight grin on his trance-like face. His stature became taller and straighter as his head, displaying a “Proud WW II Veteran” hat, continued to move in order for him to take in all of the aspects of this architectural tribute. Pride exuded from the faces of those members of his family who were spread out behind him as he slowly walked through the memorial – his memorial. A sense of ownership was apparent.

I left that scene assured that I had just witnessed an obvious display of true patriotism. I really felt like a visitor to a house in which I had no ownership. Questions flew through my mind that I knew I would have never been able to ask that World War II veteran. How does it feel to know that he was one of probably only a dozen other World War II veterans gathered at the World War II Memorial during that afternoon? How does it feel to see that the majority of the visitors there that day were simply tourists or students? They were just wandering around taking pictures, talking to their friends, playing in the water displays, or talking on cell phones. Did he feel that anyone, except the other World War II veterans in attendance understood the meaning – the emotion?

My mind then reflected on the few remaining World War I veterans. How must it feel to be the last?

I slowly made my way westerly to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. I leaned against a park bench under the tree line facing The Wall. My mind drifted. I envisioned the same crowd that was currently meandering their way before the black granite panels. Each group of tourists and students was separated only by a respective tour guide or teacher.

Where were the Vietnam veterans? Oh, the year was 2049. There were no veterans mixed in with the crowd except for one frail centenarian sitting in a wheelchair at the apex of The Wall. His weathered face was unrecognizable. The only form of identification that he displayed was a hat the he had worn for years that was embroidered with “Proud Vietnam Veteran.” Then this imaginary scene in my mind comes to life as this veteran rises from his wheelchair and calls out somewhat in disgust to the mass of people moving before him. He proclaims to no one in particular, “You don’t understand.” He had spent many hours watching these moving groups be “educated” by their leaders about the facts, figures, and meaning of “The Wall.” Many of these “experts” were not even born yet in 2009. A few people stop to take in the old guy’s words. Then a few more stop and turn toward him. At that point he realizes that his repeated verbalized emotional statement has caused an unwanted audience to gather. So he proceeds, “You don’t understand – how veterans used to come to this wall and fall to their knees as they openly cried as they viewed one of the inscribed names. You don’t understand – that often times another group of veterans would just appear out of the darkness and help that veteran to his feet, hug him, and shake his hand. They would then start laughing and telling stories like they were old friends.

“You don’t understand – how this group would just splinter off, going their separate ways back into the darkness. The veteran who had just been picked up from his knees would then swipe his fingers across the letters of the name that had just caused him to fall to the ground with emotion. He would then make his way alone into the darkness feeling just a little better. You don’t understand.”

So that was it. It was 2049, and that veteran was the last Vietnam veteran standing at the middle of his memorial. It will be one of us.

At that point, I shook my head and it was 2008 again, and the crowd gathered at The Wall before me was comprised of many Vietnam veterans. Some were talking to each other, some were talking to strangers in the crowd, and some were just reflecting on another time. The important – most important – thing was that they were together and they did understand. Also, they were attempting to do one other thing. They were attempting to help others understand.

It was time for me to walk to The Wall and talk to a veteran who might some day be the last living Vietnam veteran.

Back to President's page.

Back to top of page.

VietNow National
1835 Broadway – Rockford, Illinois 61104
800.837.VNOW – 815.227.5100
nationalhq@vietnow.com

We can't continue our work without your help.
Please click here to donate now.