I left Vietnam in 1971 with many unresolved feelings, and unanswered questions. Twenty years later, in 1991, hoping to resolve some of my uncertainty about my war, I went to Honolulu for the commemoration of the 50th anniversary of Pearl Harbor. Thirteen years after that, in 1994, I went to Normandy for the 50th anniversary of D-Day.
WW2 Veterans from both sides of the conflict returned to their respective battlefields one more time, for many the last. This time they didn't meet as enemies motivated by hatred, and revenge, they came together as old men, to not only honor their fallen comrades, but to honor each other and the fallen from both sides.
There was a shared sense of empathy, sorrow, and an understanding of the enormity of the sacrifices made during those events, that only the participants could ever truly understand.
There was one more emotion that wasn't discussed but it was palpable, Survivor's guilt. The one question, thought but never uttered was: Why me, why am I here and not the people I came to remember and honor? I was relieved to know that I wasn't alone.
I recalled feeling a very similar group emotion back in 1982 when I showed up just before dawn to see the Vietnam Memorial in private, but as I sat on a bench several other Vietnam Vets showed up so none of us were alone.
My father, Robert H. Estes was a young Marine on the USS Maryland on Dec. 7th. His first cousin, Forest Estes died on the USS Arizona, the only son/child of my father's uncle. My father felt survivor guilt the rest of his life. So many sad and heroic stories. We can't forget.
I loved your article. I visited Pear Harbor several years ago and you brought back every emotion I had that day when I stood upon the Arizona Memorial.
On my visit to Pearl Harbor the water was too choppy to go out to the Arizona. I was disappointed. However, even from afar, I was affected by the enormity of what took place that day and the terrible outcome of the attack. Haunting.
My parents lived in Chico, close friends with the editor of the local paper. They watched the ticker arrive with the news, and then the truth of the catastrophic event was quickly suppressed.
I left Vietnam in 1971 with many unresolved feelings, and unanswered questions. Twenty years later, in 1991, hoping to resolve some of my uncertainty about my war, I went to Honolulu for the commemoration of the 50th anniversary of Pearl Harbor. Thirteen years after that, in 1994, I went to Normandy for the 50th anniversary of D-Day.
WW2 Veterans from both sides of the conflict returned to their respective battlefields one more time, for many the last. This time they didn't meet as enemies motivated by hatred, and revenge, they came together as old men, to not only honor their fallen comrades, but to honor each other and the fallen from both sides.
There was a shared sense of empathy, sorrow, and an understanding of the enormity of the sacrifices made during those events, that only the participants could ever truly understand.
There was one more emotion that wasn't discussed but it was palpable, Survivor's guilt. The one question, thought but never uttered was: Why me, why am I here and not the people I came to remember and honor? I was relieved to know that I wasn't alone.
I recalled feeling a very similar group emotion back in 1982 when I showed up just before dawn to see the Vietnam Memorial in private, but as I sat on a bench several other Vietnam Vets showed up so none of us were alone.
A very touching reminiscence of a terrible moment. Thank you for sharing this.
My father, Robert H. Estes was a young Marine on the USS Maryland on Dec. 7th. His first cousin, Forest Estes died on the USS Arizona, the only son/child of my father's uncle. My father felt survivor guilt the rest of his life. So many sad and heroic stories. We can't forget.
Thank you so much for this, Janet.
I loved your article. I visited Pear Harbor several years ago and you brought back every emotion I had that day when I stood upon the Arizona Memorial.
Thank you,
Dave
Thanks so much Dave.
On my visit to Pearl Harbor the water was too choppy to go out to the Arizona. I was disappointed. However, even from afar, I was affected by the enormity of what took place that day and the terrible outcome of the attack. Haunting.
Thank you.
Your words, recollections and the feel of being near that hallowed place … poignant and haunting. We need to be reminded. Thank you.
My parents lived in Chico, close friends with the editor of the local paper. They watched the ticker arrive with the news, and then the truth of the catastrophic event was quickly suppressed.