Once upon a time, I thought the Vietnam war memorial was appropriate. Today, I realize that it’s purely political. Especially after I saw the Korean war memorial for the first time last week. They couldn’t be more different, and they’re only about three hundred yards apart.
In short, I see the critic’s ditch now, the black chevron that is partially underground. If it weren’t for the statues of the three combat troops, and the two nurses and their patient, the memorial would be entirely about the American dead. It’s called the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. But it’s not for veterans. Not the live ones. There’s no room for heroism, though we had plenty of heroes. Just the dead.
The Korean one, by complete contrast, is alive: nineteen statutes of larger-than-life men on patrol across a field. All carry Garands or carbines. One guy totes a thirty caliber machine gun on his shoulder. The platoon leader is distinguishable by his binoculars case. It’s a true memorial to veterans. The dead aren’t even mentioned, except for a number totaling them on a piece of granite along a walkway. Even their wall, which is not underground, contains a series of human faces, some in helmets, some in shadow, but recognizably human soldiers. I came away jealous.
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 
