On Memorial Day, the 31st day of May, many Americans say prayers for those who have died, regardless of color, creed or where they were born.
The National Vietnam Veterans Day is also a time when veterans and their families are recognized. It is to honor those who have protected our country. Again, there are special prayers for those who have given the “last full measure.”
On the state Capitol grounds, there are monuments honoring those who fought for our freedom. There is a statue of a World War I doughboy that stands in a circle near the Washington state Capitol Building. There the governor, lieutenant governor, legislative bodies and government offices are located. The Capitol dome soars about four stories above the floor.
The World War II display is called “Singing Wheat.” The shafts “sing” when the wind blows at the bottom of the Capitol hill.
There is a Vietnam Wall naming 1,202 Washington state men who died by bullets or bombs scattered like pebbles in a pond. I remember looking from the top of a tall building in Saigon, and seeing thousands of bullets interspersed with red tracers. The barrage was so dense it seemed as if no living thing could survive.
Each year until March 29, 2024, we met outside where there is a beautiful place in front of the Vietnam Wall shaped to show where holes have been carefully drilled in the amber colored green granite. There are small American flags attached to equally small dowels that signify that the veterans who died were found. Our friends who weren’t found have no flags. Their families will be wondering if they will be found until their death.
In World War II, Korea and Vietnam, the men had no choice but to be sent to a war, because they were drafted when they were 18 years old and were considered men.
Some of the families and friends, or like me, now an old stooped veteran, and my “brothers in arms” were assigned to various duties. The Army had thousands of soldiers and bore the brunt of the casualties. My buddies and I could only imagine when the war would end.
“How do you know?” people asked me. My statement in the 2024 voter’s pamphlet gave background information. I was a pilot who volunteered to save lives, as did our helicopter crew. There were many varied airmen who risked their lives to protect us so that we, in turn, could save lives.
There is a motto: “These things we do, that others may live.” It was a miracle to rescue a pilot from the jungle so deep that the 220-foot cable was not long enough to reach the base of the trees.
People asked me if I saw or watched anything? Yes. I and the others who watched and could do nothing. No matter who or what was a worse sight to see, the bloodshed was so bad that most of us still have nightmares (PTSD).
This March, my wife and I saw a sign that had a veterans meeting in the Capitol Building on the ground floor. Confused, we followed about 100 veterans, relatives, friends and husky “bike riders” with a cross on the back of their leather jackets. The room was so small we felt cramped. We wondered why the change in meeting place to inside the Capitol Building instead of outside.
Everyone was asked if we wanted to say something. There was a small woman who told us that she was there to honor her grandfather killed in World War II. She had to stop during her story to cry. She apologized for crying. I put my arm around her shoulders and told her I’ve also cried for my buddies who we had to realize would never return.
Today is April 12, 2025. It has taken me, an old stooped shouldered veteran, 12 days to write an opinion to the Centralia Chronicle about how Gov. Bov Ferguson tried to trick Americans who wanted to pray outside of the “governor’s” Capitol.
Today, my letter will be sent to other Americans at the Chronicle to “hopefully” be published in their paper or wireless to be sent to everyone in Washington state and across our USA that he lost his first game. Americans have found out that Mr. Ferguson has lost to us.
Frank Dare
Olympia
