As they passed the presidential mansion every demonstrator uttered the name of a dead American soldier.

The next day came the rally of 325,000 people on the Mall by the Lincoln Memorial...Hundreds of protestors mobbed the Justice Department, where police responded with mass arrests and tear gas...'

Robert D. Schulzinger

'A Time for War The United States and Vietnam, 1941-1975'

"Each time a person stands up for an ideal,
or acts to improve the lot of others,
he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope,
and these ripples build a current
that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance."

Robert F. Kennedy

~Ending #1~

'...We are Golden...'

'In the fall of 1982, a U.S. Navy officer walked up to the trench where the concrete for the foundation of The Wall was being poured. He stood over the trench for a moment, then tossed something into it and saluted. A workman asked him what he was doing. He said he was giving his dead brother's Purple Heart to The Wall. That was the first offering.'

Offerings at The Wall

By Don Moser

Reprinted from the May 1995 Smithsonian Magazine.

The day is crisp without being cold.

A lone figure stands in front of The Wall, a hand outstretched, the fingers tracing a name behind the glass there. At his feet lay flowers, cards, candles and countless other tokens of remembrance, photos, letters from children, poems from loved ones.

Silently the tears so long held back begin to fall. The name in front of him, forever etched in marble is, to him, not a name but a person, a friend, someone who was once a living, breathing human being, someone who was capable of great tenderness and love.

Wiping away the tears with the back of his hand he bows his head in prayer.

Memories coming unbidden, of laughter shared, of conversations held.

After a few minutes another draws alongside him. The newcomer quietly slips a hand into his, rests their head on his shoulder and joins him in his reflections.

The man raises his head and smiles at his companion.

'You ok?' He is asked.

'Yes, I'm fine. I'm ready to go home now. Let's go home Darren.'


~Ending #2~

'...We are Golden...'

'In the fall of 1982, a U.S. Navy officer walked up to the trench where the concrete for the foundation of The Wall was being poured. He stood over the trench for a moment, then tossed something into it and saluted. A workman asked him what he was doing. He said he was giving his dead brother's Purple Heart to The Wall. That was the first offering.'

Offerings at The Wall

By Don Moser

Reprinted from the May 1995 Smithsonian Magazine.

The day is crisp without being cold.

A lone figure stands in front of The Wall, a hand outstretched, the fingers tracing a name behind the glass there. At his feet lay flowers, cards, candles and countless other tokens of remembrance, photos, letters from children, poems from loved ones.

Silently the tears so long held back begin to fall. The name in front of him, forever etched in marble is, to him, not a name but a person, a friend, someone who was once a living, breathing human being, someone who was capable of great tenderness and love.

Wiping away the tears with the back of his hand he bows his head in prayer.

Memories coming unbidden, of laughter shared, of conversations held.

After a few minutes, he looks up again, looks for one last time at the name, at his fallen love.

Suddenly feeling the chill he pulls his coat tight around him, sighing gently, almost imperceptibly.

Leaning forward he places his lips to the cold surface, kissing it tenderly.

'Goodbye Darren. Sleep well my love.'

~finis~
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