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! go to top