Not Just Another Name

What many people don’t realize is that the Vietnam war began in 1954. The protests started around 1960. Let me clarify.

In 1955, we had not yet reached the status of “WAR”. In 1955, it was called a conflict that included Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia.

At the time, North Vietnam was determined to unify the entire country, taking control of South Vietnam putting the entire two regions under one communist rule. As hard as the north pushed, the south pushed just as hard to preserve their more western stance.

The north being militarily stronger, had the south asking for assistance. The US had military advisors present throughout the 1950s but became more active around 1960. By 1965, the combat troops were introduced, and the conflict became a war.

The rest is history.

In 1965, I had been out of high school for two years. My brother was in his third year of college. The war seemed so far away. We rarely gave it a thought. My brother still went to school with a hopeful degree in biology. I went to work and after dinner, hung out with my friends until it was time to go home.

Life was good for a teen in the mid-sixties.

By the end of June 1966, I was married, and my brother was planning his college graduation which would take place in just a few short weeks. I didn’t think life could get any better.

Then to the horror of my parents, a letter for my brother, who was twenty-one years old was delivered the Monday after his graduation. He, like thousands of other young men, was being drafted. Frank immediately went to the enlistment office and asked how he could change the status from drafted to enlisted. Immediately, they handed him papers to sign, and it was done! The next day, he reported for duty.

My friend Eddie had the same situation but one year later. Being only seventeen when he graduated from high school, he didn’t get his notice until his eighteenth birthday. Like my brother, he also didn’t want to be known as a “draftee.” I guess with Frankie and Eddie, like so many others, it was ego. “Do your duty!” “Don’t hesitate.”

My brother and Eddie saw their share of battle and horror. When my brother came home, I honestly believe that part of his mind stayed in Vietnam. He had nightly nightmares. He was terrified to sleep because if he did, he’d wake up screaming.

Eddie, on the other hand, didn’t make it home. I can still remember the day, while visiting my mom, I slid open her living room window and saw a green Jeep pull up to a house a few doors down the street. I called my mom. “Mom, something happened to Eddie.”

We hurried downstairs and sat on the front steps of our apartment house and soon heard Eddie’s mother's screams. “My boy! My boy! Oh my God, My boy!” Her sobbing wails still echo in my mind, even after all these years.

The entire neighborhood attended Eddie’s funeral. Yes, my brother attended. He thought it appropriate, but he did not wear his uniform. He attended as Eddie’s friend not a fellow-soldier. Frankie thought, that while Eddie was having a military funeral, his parents didn’t need to see more uniforms around, especially on a friend who made it home.

I can still see him hugging Eddie’s mom and she hung on to him fiercely as they both cried.

Yes, Eddie’s name is on the Wall. Like so many thousands of others, his name is displayed for everyone to see.

To date, there are approximately seven hundred replicas of the Vietnam Wall throughout the United States and not one casualty name has been omitted. As of May 2021, there are 58,281 names listed on the wall and each name has someone with memories and stories to share with us.

My story is about Eddie.

Eddie was born Edward Joseph Hogan on September 3, 1948. Ironically, his parents and mine were best friends while they were teens. I guess it just made sense that Eddie and I would become close friends. No, we weren’t a couple – we were just a couple of kids who were friends and hung out together.

We both loved to have fun and very often would listen to my small transistor radio and with the rest of our friends, sing (or try to) whatever song was playing. Our voices were loud, VERY loud, but all too often, off-key. Didn’t matter. We were having fun.

Eddie always wore a watch and on weekends, could be seen checking the time regularly. Saturday night was a “date night” for his parents and Eddie being the wonderful son he was, made sure he was home by 7PM to take care of younger brother so his parents could go out and catch a late movie.

If our “gang” of friends wanted to go to the ice cream parlor, Eddie knew which of us was a bit short on cash and he always offered to pay. However, his offer was done secretly so no one would know except him and the person he decided to treat. He would never, EVER embarrass anyone of us.

Eddie also like practical jokes. Eddie was a year younger than I was yet, it never phased him to tell others that I was his girlfriend. Once he had almost everyone believing him, he’d walk over to another girl, put his arm around her and ask her to a movie. Those who weren’t in on his joke, were horrified – until we all laughed. Oh, and yes, Eddie had a girlfriend and again, yes, she was eager to along with his crazy sense of humor.

That was Eddie – full of life, laughter, and love. He was a friend to everyone who knew him. He never had one bad word to say about anyone. He was kind, compassionate, loving, and eager to smile.

He, like so many others, was too young to die.

Eddie died on May 21, 1969, and even though it’s been almost fifty-three years, he’s never been forgotten, not by his family or his friends. We think of him often and while we’re all proud of him and the sacrifice he paid for his country; we are also bitter because he was all too often considered to be “just another casualty.”

As far as I’m concerned, he was not then, is not now, and never will be “just another casualty.”

Just like other families and friends, I will never, I repeat NEVER consider Eddie’s name “just another name on the wall.”

We still miss you, Eddie. Until we meet again, my dear friend, xoxo.