Upon a Black Wall

Instead of being surrounded by soft pastels
and resting in a favorite comfortable chair,
they are just stark names
chiseled into cold black stone.

1st Lt. Sharon Ann Lane
can be found on the wall
at section 23 West.

She died from shrapnel wounds
when the 312th Air Evacuation Squadron
was hit by rockets on June 8, 1969,
at a place called Chu Lai.
Now she exists as a name
chiseled into cold black stone.

2nd Lt. Pamela Dorothy Donovan
can be found on the wall
at section 53 West.

She became ill
in the heat and sun of Vietnam
and died on July 8, 1968,
just 26 years old.
She would never again see
Massachusetts, her beloved home.
Now she exists as a name
chiseled into cold black stone.

Instead of being surrounded by soft pastels
and resting in a favorite comfortable chair,
they are just stark names
chiseled into cold black stone.

Lt. Col. Annie Ruth Graham,
another name on the wall:
48 West, panel 12.

She was chief nurse
at 91st Air Evacuation Hospital.
She died from a stroke in August 1968.
A veteran of both World War II and Korea,
now she exists as a name
chiseled into cold black stone.

Capt. Mary Therese Klinker.
Her name is on the wall
at 01 West, panel 122.

She died as a flight nurse
on a C-5A Galaxy which crashed
outside Saigon while evacuating
Vietnamese orphans.
What a cruel twist of fate.
Now she exists as a name
chiseled into cold black stone.

Instead of being surrounded by soft pastels
and resting in a favorite comfortable chair,
they are just stark names
chiseled into cold black stone.

2nd Lt. Carol Ann Elizabeth Drazba
and 2nd Lt. Elizabeth Ann Jones,
names standing side by side
at 05 East on the wall.

They were assigned
to the 3rd Field Hospital in Saigon.
Both 22 years old,
they died in a helicopter crash
near Saigon on February 18, 1966.
Now they exist as names
chiseled into cold black stone.

Capt. Eleanor Grace Alexander.
1st Lt. Hedwig Diane Orlowski.
Together their names
look down from the wall
on section 31 East.

They died on November 30, 1967,
when their plane crashed
on a return trip to Qui Nhon.
Their legacy stands as names
chiseled into cold black stone.

Instead of being surrounded by soft pastels
and resting in a favorite comfortable chair,
these fallen heroes are names
chiseled into cold black stone.

_____________________________

Lou Marin is a writer, photographer, and historian for The American Legion, Department of Maine. Born and raised in western Maine, he spent more than 20 years in the United States Air Force. He is a published poet and short story writer whose work for The Havok Journal is largely poetry and reflective writing on military service, remembrance, and faith. He is also a stringer for Maine Trust for Local News, the author of Dimly Seen Through the Mists and My Lighthouse in Troubled Times, and a resident of Rumford, Maine. He can be reached at mbsphotog@yahoo.com or his Facebook Page.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.