In the Saturday afternoon sun of a somber January, the black granite walls of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial were warm, almost animate to the touch. A blond teenage girl with a paper dove in her hair from an antiwar rally stood near two fortyish men talking softly about a bungled mortar attack a generation and half a world away. Two helicopters whirred overhead, the sound both jarring and fitting. Odd how certain names leaped to the eye and touched the heart. Irvin W. Prosser Jr., Zygmunt Kowalewski, Sherl K. Bonnett. Strangers all, so there were no images of them as soldiers...
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