I did business in DC for years but it took until mid '97 before I could visit the wall. And I saw the names and I silentley cried. The next time I visied it my wife was with me and again I silently cried and she squeezed my arm. The last visited I was OK but I felt sadness at the loss of friends. And as I walked by, I told them in my mind about my kids who were much older than they lived to be, and about my grand kids. and I thanked them in my mind for allowing us to live to have grand kids, and freedom.
And sometimes I hate to be shackeled from killing some fucking commie bastard protester, but their memory demands that I refain because that is what they died for. " I may not agree with what you say, But I will defend to the death your right to say it". God I hate that restraint. It would be much more satisfying to smash the face of some punk, but they would not be honored by that.
Later buds.
Slow Salute
BT