The Plaque, The Wall
I came back to a place of soothing waters, of calming tides, a place where each of us carried our own military turmoils of the past. But, it was a place where we could all say it without saying a word.
Luann, who ended up taking over the Veteran’s Services Office at Arizona State University’s Registrar's Office, said, “Oh Robert, we tried to get ahold of you for the funeral”, then she pointed to a plaque.
In honor of Richard Wade for his years of dedicated service to this office.
Former 1st Sgt. Richard Wade, who crawled through the tunnels of Vietnam with a knife in his teeth, went to “The Wall” in D.C. and found his name, although he was alive to sketch it onto paper. One of his buddies had found it and took a picture. But, Rich was no ghost.
When I first came to the Vet’s Office, where we got the money for the soldiers, airmen, seamen, and Marines to go to college in the desert, before it was named after Pat Tillman, there were two other Vietnam era vets named Bob who ran it, and CJ who ran the Vocational Rehab section, with Rich as second in command. I did some work in both sections.
Rich smoked a ton of cigs, and a little green stuff and booze to calm his spirits. But man, did these men show dedication to the sometimes wayward souls who made it into the office to get monies that would sometimes just be enough to make rent and get some sustenance.
We got stories out of Rich about his trip to D.C. and how he felt seeing his name on the wall, and once in a while he would even get into the mud of the tunnels and bring us down there. But, he was like other vets I knew, like one who was still leading our National Guard platoon, much older than most of the NCOs, but who had to be there. He had to be there with soldiers and tell the young ones what was up. But, he never <really> told us about Vietnam. None of them did, unless you were a “brother”, unless you had been there. You could skirt the edges, but not drop in the jungle with them.
We could get Rich high as a kite, but not really, and drunk as a skunk, but not really, and he would cry sometimes with us younger folks, but you never really got into the heart or soul of what was ailing him so many years later.
So Rich took over the office and showed me how to be the final checker between our office and nationals, who then paid them. He was meticulous, and explained to me that many of these troops who got our money were hanging on by a thread. He knew.
And in this, is where Rich repaid the men and women that put in time and effort for the various military factions.
I looked at the plaque through tears. When Luann, who had since taken over after she trained under Rich and Bob, saw me break down for having missed this funeral, she came and hugged me.
1st Sgt. Richard Wade, tunnel rat-Richard Wade, and head of the Veteran’s Services Office at ASU-Richard Wade. He was my leader, and he was my friend.
by Contributing Poet Robert Beckvall Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
I came back to a place of soothing waters, of calming tides, a place where each of us carried our own military turmoils of the past. But, it was a place where we could all say it without saying a word.
Luann, who ended up taking over the Veteran’s Services Office at Arizona State University’s Registrar's Office, said, “Oh Robert, we tried to get ahold of you for the funeral”, then she pointed to a plaque.
In honor of Richard Wade for his years of dedicated service to this office.
Former 1st Sgt. Richard Wade, who crawled through the tunnels of Vietnam with a knife in his teeth, went to “The Wall” in D.C. and found his name, although he was alive to sketch it onto paper. One of his buddies had found it and took a picture. But, Rich was no ghost.
When I first came to the Vet’s Office, where we got the money for the soldiers, airmen, seamen, and Marines to go to college in the desert, before it was named after Pat Tillman, there were two other Vietnam era vets named Bob who ran it, and CJ who ran the Vocational Rehab section, with Rich as second in command. I did some work in both sections.
Rich smoked a ton of cigs, and a little green stuff and booze to calm his spirits. But man, did these men show dedication to the sometimes wayward souls who made it into the office to get monies that would sometimes just be enough to make rent and get some sustenance.
We got stories out of Rich about his trip to D.C. and how he felt seeing his name on the wall, and once in a while he would even get into the mud of the tunnels and bring us down there. But, he was like other vets I knew, like one who was still leading our National Guard platoon, much older than most of the NCOs, but who had to be there. He had to be there with soldiers and tell the young ones what was up. But, he never <really> told us about Vietnam. None of them did, unless you were a “brother”, unless you had been there. You could skirt the edges, but not drop in the jungle with them.
We could get Rich high as a kite, but not really, and drunk as a skunk, but not really, and he would cry sometimes with us younger folks, but you never really got into the heart or soul of what was ailing him so many years later.
So Rich took over the office and showed me how to be the final checker between our office and nationals, who then paid them. He was meticulous, and explained to me that many of these troops who got our money were hanging on by a thread. He knew.
And in this, is where Rich repaid the men and women that put in time and effort for the various military factions.
I looked at the plaque through tears. When Luann, who had since taken over after she trained under Rich and Bob, saw me break down for having missed this funeral, she came and hugged me.
1st Sgt. Richard Wade, tunnel rat-Richard Wade, and head of the Veteran’s Services Office at ASU-Richard Wade. He was my leader, and he was my friend.
by Contributing Poet Robert Beckvall Copyright © 2023
VWP 2023 in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Bio: Robert Beckvall Former soldier. Stationed: Alabama, Virginia, Germany, Arizona, New Mexico, California, Colorado, and Hawaii. Teacher, coach, sports champion, and published/worked for three newspapers in Arizona and Colorado. I love to write, and have been put into the ASU archives, in anthologies, the page, and of course the internet. Grampa Louis was a soldier too, and put his sister through teacher's college. Uncle Lowel and Uncle Bill both lost legs to wars: WW II & Korea. Cousin Patty married a military man, and the other Uncle Bill was fireman vet, with bro-in-law doing the police thing. David Ruiz was an MP. "The Colonel" still resonates with pastors and teachers alike.
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