Creative Writing: A Healing Wound

A Healing Wound A few years ago, My school took a trip to Washington, D.C. We got to visit many historical monuments that were even more breathtaking in person, but the experience at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial will forever be embedded in my mind. It was a beautiful day in Washington, D.C. our school had just walked over from the Lincoln Memorial and we were approaching the Vietnam Memorial Wall. I did not have very high expectations because I didn't know anybody who fought or died in the war, and the simplistic design didn't really draw much attention. At the moment I was even unaware that Maya Lin was the artist behind this piece of art. There was a clearing in the trees and everyone's chatting quickly came to a halt. The black V shaped
I continued scanning the names on the wall and one caught my eye. It read PFC DAN BULLOCK. I stopped and stared at the name. I remembered hearing that he was the youngest American serviceman killed in action during the Vietnam War. Bullock was only 15 years old and he altered the date on his birth certificate so he could enlist. Out of the millions of people who walk past the most visited monument in Washington D.C., it is unlikely that many people's eyes will even find his name. And out of the ones who see it how many will know he was killed by small arms fire just 3 weeks after arriving at Vietnam? Its chilling to think that every name on the wall has a story and a reason that they were fighting. I continue to stare at the name. I could see my reflection through the polished granite right where his name was engraved, and couldn't help but imagine myself in his position. Too young to even drive, would I sacrifice my life for the safety of millions of people I haven't even met. Its very hard to imagine. After you make the ultimate sacrifice for your country, all you are remembered bye, is a little scratch, among 58,306 other indents in stone cold granite might be even a little harder to contemplate. But in reality, over 58,000 people made this sacrifice for
I was in the very middle of this massive wound. I had walked almost 250 feet and the names on the list kept growing longer and longer. I felt like the names were just screaming waiting to be recognized. I looked to the left. I could see part of the Lincoln Memorial, and I knew Abe was still sitting there larger than life, lighting up from the flashes of the hundred of tourists around him dying to get him in frame, just as he was earlier that day. And to the right, the Washington Monument, still standing tall, visible from miles in any direction. The walls reached out in both directions towards these monuments as if they were connected. Like it was bound to the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial. I knew that the wall was different from all of the others. It wasn't created to capture your eye. You can hardly see it from 50 feet away since it descends into the ground. Its purpose is so we have a monument so we never forget the honor, courage, bravery, devotion, and sacrifice of the thousands of fallen