D. J. Poulton 2020 | Ormeau | Queensland | Australia|
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DAVO’S HOME PAGE FOR
VIETNAM VETERANS
This
is
my
recollection
of
the
dedication
of
the
Vietnam
Memorial
Anzac
Parade
Canberra,
Australia.
It
was
a
day
like
no
other
for
the
Vietnam
Veterans.
For
many
veterans
it
was
too
late,
for
many
others
it
was
the
beginning
of
a
healing
process.
For
many
of
the
public
it
was
a
chance
to
say
"Sorry"
for
the
way
the
veteran
was
treated
on
his/her
return
to
Australia
from
the
jungles
of
South
Vietnam.
I
trust
that
you
will
sense
the
deep
emotion
of
the
day
as
I
share
my
feelings
with
you.
This
was
my
first
significant
outing with other veterans since my return from Vietnam in '68.
October
3rd,
1992
is
a
day
I
will
never
forget.
The
day
tears,
healing
and
finally
the
sense
of
being
home came to Vietna
m Veterans through the dedication of the Vietnam Memorial in Canberra.
Dawn
rose
slowly
over
the
Australian
War
Memorial
in
Canberra
to
a
still
silence
as
thousands
gathered
for
the
dawn
service
to
start
the
day.
All
around
were
veterans
of
the
Vietnam
War,
family,
friends,
and
public
who
wanted
to
be
part
of
the
day.
Most
veterans
were
in
tears
as
the
realisation
of
recognition
for
serving
their
country
struck
home.
The
words
spoken
in
memory
of
the
fallen
and
all
who
served
tugged
even
harder
at
the
emotions
of
seasoned
veterans.
Many
of
us
choked
to
hold
back
the
overwhelming
emotion
of
the
moment.
Some
didn't,
and
the
pain
and
tears
flowed
freely,
maybe
for
the
first
time
in
decades. I know I watered my shirt and tie.
As
we
all
stood,
the
sound
of
the
Huey's
could
be
heard
in
the
distance,
the
"wocca,
wocca"
of
their
rotors
cutting
the
still
dawn
air.
Suddenly
out
of
the
dawn
they
flew,
low
and
in
formation.
Two
wocca
birds
coming
straight
up
Anzac
Avenue.
The
heart
raced,
a
thousand
pictures
flooded
our
minds
-
a
million
memories
in
vivid
colour
as
the
"wocca
birds"
came
at
us.
All
the
time
the
emotion
rising
like
a
thermometer
until
it
burst
in
a
flood
of
tears.
How
could
you
not
let
go.
Tears
of
pain,
memories
of
mates
killed
and
wounded,
years
of
torture
in
the
night
fighting
the
memories.
All
around
veterans
wept
openly.
Some
cried,
"It's
too
much,
I
can't
take
any
more,"
and
gave
into
the
avalanche
of
tears.
Others
openly
expressed
their
relief
at
finally
being
home,
finally
being
able
to
put
Vietnam
to
rest.
Some
turned
from
the view of the Huey's, the sight of them too much to bear, their memories too painful to relive.
In
the
midst
of
the
tears
the
bugler
sounded
the
Last
Post.
It
pierced
the
dawn
causing
goose
bumps
on
everyone's
skin.
I
remember
saying
the
names
of
all
those
I
had
known
in
Vietnam
who
died.
Good
friends
-
mates!.
I
spoke
out
their
names
and
said
I
would
never
forget
their
sacrifice.
I
had
wrestled
with
the
idea
of
even
going
to
the
dedication
ceremony.
I
had
isolated
myself
from
veterans
for
years
(an
all
too
common
practice
for
many
veterans).
I
didn't
want
to
mix
with
any,
yet
I
knew
I
had
to
attend.
I
found
myself
with
other
vet's,
all
with
the
same
emotions.
No
one
looked
at
you
funny
in
the
midst
of
your
tears,
because they were looking through the mist of their own tears.
After
the
dawn
service
was
over,
I
stayed
for
the
'breaky'
that
was
served
and
caught
up
with
all
the
forgotten
faces
as
we
waited
for
the
march,
catching
up
on
the
years
gone
since
we
last
saw
each
other.
Many
mates
had
changed
(we
had
all
changed),
especially
our
physical
body,
but
the
memories
remained.
We
all
got
into
what
we
did
or
didn't
do
over
the
years,
reflected
on
the
good
and
the
not
so
good
from
our
times
together
as
soldiers.
We
all
laughed
a
lot
amidst
the
calls
for,
"Whatever
happened
to ...?"
Right
in
the
midst
of
the
catching
up,
the
"Wocca"
birds
flew
low
over
the
thousands
of
vets
gathered
on
the
oval.
They
weren't
just
low,
they
were
real
low.
The
roar
that
went
up
was
deafening.
Yet
again
the
sound
of
the
rotors
still
caused
a
silence
to
fall.
Again,
pictures
flowed
of
the
many
operations
once
spent
in
and
out
of
choppers.
The
doors
were
open
and
the
traditional
body
hanging
out
brought
back
another
flood
of
memories.
I
remember
standing
there
on
the
oval
and
vividly
picturing
a
chopper
taking
a
dive
South
West
of
Dat
Do
on
a
search
and
destroy
mission.
It
was
so
real
that
it
took
me
for
ages
to
get
my
bearings
again.
Again
the
tears
flowed
and
the
throat
choked
with
emotion.
It
didn't
really
matter.
We
were all there, we all knew. Only a Vietnam Veteran can understand the emotion the "wocca" bird brings.
Anticipation
built
as
'H'
hour
arrived
and
we
stepped
off
to
march.
Somehow,
we
managed
to
get
in
some
form
of
order
(old
disciplined
habits
die
hard).
They
used
to
call
it
ranks,
but
I
think
for
a
few
moments
we
gave
new
meaning
to
the
word.
Off
we
went,
trying
to
pick
up
the
step
with
the
guy
in
front.
If
he
was
out,
then
you
looked
a
right
goose.
Didn't
take
long
to
settle
down
and
get
into
the
stride
and
the
swing
of
it.
As
we
came
onto
Anzac
Parade
each
veteran
was
given
a
memorial
copy
of
the
New
Testament.
It
was
a
fitting
gift
and
I
clutched
mine
tightly.
I
still
have
it
and
take
it
off
the
shelf
regularly
to
read
it
and
spend
some time in memory of those who gave their life that we might enjoy ours.
I
was
awe
struck
by
the
magnitude
of
the
crowd.
Tears
flowed
again.
Vets
embraced
each
other
in
support,
even
held
hands
to
try
and
stem
the
emotion
of
the
moment.
Thousands
of
people
clapping,
waving
flags,
crying
out
encouragement
and
asking
for
forgiveness
for
the
pain
and
hurt
they
caused
upon
our
arrival
home.
Placards
held
high
with
messages,
"I
was
a
demonstrator,
please
forgive
me!"
tore
at
our
hearts
and
suddenly
the
healing
of
a
nation's
rejection
flowed.
Many
hundreds
in
the
crowd
were
crying
openly,
family
and
friends,
strangers
-
people
from
foreign
shores.
It
truly
was
a
day
of
national healing. It was late coming, but at least it came.
One
never
forgets
how
to
put
a
spring
in
a
veteran’s
step.
Could
we
be
proud
that
we
were
Returned
Active
Servicemen
and
Women
-
Vietnam
Veterans?
Yes,
but
unfortunately,
for
many
a
veteran
the
damage
had
been
done.
The
scars
and
wounds
were
deep
and
unhealed
-
their
spirit
had
been
broken
by
an
ungrateful
nation
on
their
return.
The
march
and
dedication
of
the
Memorial
was
a
step
in
the
healing
process,
but
it
didn't
bring
total
and
permanent
healing
to
many
of
the
Vietnam
veterans.
To
the
nation
maybe,
but
for
many
veterans
the
war
still
goes
on,
the
battle
is
still
being
fought,
not
in
a
rice
paddy
or
the
jungle
of
Vietnam,
but
in
the
day
to
day
living,
the
nightmares
and
the
hot
sweats,
the
flashbacks,
the
memories
that
intrude
your
day
without
warning,
living
with
the
disabilities
war
brings,
broken relationships and families that have been scared by the affect that war had on the veteran.
The day sure put a huge dent in all that though - at least for this digger!
Was
it
enough
to
heal
the
unseen
wounds
of
the
veteran?
No,
I
don't
think
so,
but
it
was
a
start
in
the
right
direction.
Most
digger's
don't
want
sorry,
they
want
a
public,
national
thank
you
for
responding
to
the
call of the government of the day - for being a soldier, doing what
they
were
asked
to
do
and
upholding
our
nation's
heritage
that
was
tested
on
the
beach
and
cliffs
of
Gallipoli.
Wives
and
children
want
back
their
loved
one
who
has
the
ability
to
be
loving
and
affectionate
again,
free
from
the
trauma
and
the
anger
that
has
been
so
much
a
part
of
the
veteran's
daily
life.
Surely
that
isn't
too much to ask is it?
The dedication I believe was the start of the process - there is much, much more to be done!
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Vietnam Memorial Dedication