The Wall: A Veteran’s Day Story

It was a crisp fall day on the Washington Mall.  An older gentleman walked with purpose toward the black, marble wall. On that wall were 58,272 names. Names that had left their lives back in Vietnam.  Leaves crunched under his feet as a cold wind chilled his heart.

Captain Daniel Gober had served for two years in Vietnam. He remembered the day he came back home — or let’s just say he had tried to forget it.  Protestors had spit on him and yelled, “Baby killer.”  Flames in his soul still burned at the thought.

“Father forgive them for they know not of what they do.”  How many times had he recited that to calm down?  Too many.

The Vietnam Memorial was controversial when it opened in 1982. Designed by Maya Ying Lin, a 21-year-old Harvard University architecture student from Athens, Ohio, it was the winning design from 1,421 entries.  It consisted of two simple walls that descend until you get to the middle.  Many of his veteran brothers had protested the design when it was first revealed. But over time, it became known as the most moving monument on the Mall. The 58,272 names powerfully illustrate the incredible loss this country suffered. The memorial quickly became a shrine.

Daniel Gober headed toward the name he was looking for. The one name he truly cared about. The name of Sergeant David Gober.  His little brother.

Danny and David were inseparable as children. One-year apart, everything Daniel did, David did too.  When Daniel went off to West Point, David soon joined the Army.  Both boys turned out to be natural leaders.  David quickly rose to Sergeant and was known for his calm leadership under fire.  Both were shipped to Vietnam to their mother’s horror.

Daniel still remembered that night they ran into each other in Saigon.  The laughter. The stories. The beer. It was the last time he saw his brother alive.

He came home for the funeral that fall.  Protesters spitting on him in the airport scratched at an already open wound.  He felt the flames burn again in his soul: “Father forgive them for they know not of what they do.”

Things went downhill quickly after that. His mother had a mental breakdown and was institutionalized. His father started drinking.  Daniel buried them both within a year. People talk about the cost of the Vietnam War: His family photo album was  a documentary of it. It had nearly chopped down his family tree.

Daniel came up to the spot where his brother’s name was. He put his palm on the cold marble and began to talk  to his brother like he did every Veteran’s Day.

“You were the best little brother a man could ask for. Damn the war. Damn the mine that killed you.  I know you’re up there with Mom & Dad  — so please tell them hello for me. Man, I look forward to the day soon that I will able to join you.  Because  the worst part of you dying is that I miss you so much.  Oh yeah, you wouldn’t believe how the country now reacts now to the military coming home.  They thank them in airports. They are praised in cartoons and on the radio.  But there are still serious problems.  Too many of us struggle to get back into society.  I pray that is remedied some day.” The old Captain paused for a second, looked at the name and finished by saying, “Well, I need to go.  God bless you David. I miss you. And I love you so much.”

Tears ran down the older man’s face as he knelt down to rest. After 4o years, the pain of losing his brother still crippled him.

A young soldier came up behind him, put his hand on his shoulder and said, “Sir, are you OK?”  Daniel turned around to look at the Sergeant and said, “Yes. Can you help me up?”

“No problem, sir.”

The Sergeant reached out his hand and pulled the old Captain up. He then hugged him.

And on that cold Veterans Day, Captain Daniel Gober was brought to his feet by Sergeant David Gober II.  Both men looked at the beloved name on the wall one more time and walked back to their car.