I visited 47E at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial on Labor Day. It’s been over two decades since my last visit. The photo is my attempt to capture the light, life’s reflections and the promise of RESURGAM, which is a vast interconnectedness that keeps weaving through time.
As for words, remembering Phil Woodall is important. His name is not on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. He’s the Vietnam veteran who drew my attention to 47E with two written words: Alpha Company.
Unknown to me at the time, the seeds of the creative meander were planted the day I was introduced to Alpha Company. I stepped outside my twenty-something comfort zone to search for them. Now that I’m in the second half of life, I see much more because of Phil’s actions and dedication to remember them.
The First Letter to Phil When I Didn’t Know Alpha Company’s Identity
Dear Mr. Woodall,
My reason for writing you is complex. I saw your name during the broadcast on WBTV regarding Metrolina’s Vietnam Veteran Association. I also saw you during the segment on PM Magazine highlighting the HBO program “Dear America. Letters From Vietnam.” I thought about writing you a letter after your appearance on PM Magazine, and then again after seeing you on WBTV but didn’t follow through.
I found “Shrapnel in the Heart” during an impulsive stop at a bookstore. I began reading the book, and again, I saw your name. Your name is significant to me because I have been looking for Alpha Company, and am sure it is your Alpha Company. My search stems from a visit to the moving Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial at Freedom Park. While there I saw two words scrawled on a white envelope at E47 and wondered to whom the letter was addressed. I imagined it was to an individual and wondered what the letter said. Before I left the moving wall, I stopped at the E47 panel once more. I was able to focus on the envelope and read two words, only to discover it was not addressed to an individual but to Alpha Company. I am enclosing a short story about the day. That day remains vivid in my memory and will never fade.
After the discovery, I began seeking knowledge on both the Vietnam War and Alpha Company. I wrote the Friends of the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial and learned the dates of the E47 panel. I searched for events during March 29-April 4. I approached a dead end when I realized there was more than one Alpha Company. It seemed impossible that I could find the correct one. But I continued to expand my knowledge on Vietnam and Vietnam veterans, and through a series of events and clues, I believe I may have found the correct Alpha Company.
I am constantly amazed at the coincidental chances of discovering news, information, and books on Vietnam that led me to you. If there had not been such as amazing string of events that began with my visit to Freedom Park, then I would not be writing you now. I never thought I would find Alpha Company, but maybe I am supposed to. Because I wonder if I am, I decided to write you this letter. Does that make sense?
The Reply from Phil
Within a week, I received a reply from Phil.
Dear Jean,
East 47 has an answer – the letter to Alpha Company is a poem. It is attached for you. I placed it at the base of panel 47 because on rows five and six are three Alpha Company members: Lt. Gary Scott, Lt. Frank Rodriquez, and PFC Manuel Ruiz – all killed March 29, 1968 in a paddy around Hue. The dates are documented in the book Dear America, excerpted from a letter that I wrote my Dad on April 5, 1968; the day after Martin Luther King was slain.
The Operation was Carentan in I Corps near Hue, after Tet. We were “mopping up” NVA in the paddies of Thua Thien, so that farmers could plant their crops after the mighty February rains and before the September monsoons.
If you would like to read another member’s story of Alpha Company, check out the book Line Doggie by Charles Gadd. The places and people from his third platoon perspective are vivid, his sequences are not the same as mine in many instances.
Does your letter make sense to me? Easy – sure. Alpha Company left Fort Campbell, Kentucky, intact December 67, arriving near Hue, a week before Tet. I spent until September with the boys of Alpha Company, plus until May 69 with the battalion operations staff to whom Alpha Company reported. Gary Scott, Frank Rodriquez, Manuel Ruiz, Eddie Sands, John Holton, Roy Winer, Bogard Floyd, and Gary Hadley are all on the wall.
Of all Americans who faced 1968 – that decisive year that began with Tet and ended with Richard Nixon. Alpha Company faced intense guerrilla warfare that even Gadd can’t capture. Alpha Company is a real part of America – poetic, heroic, tragic – and never triumphant, but I hope never forgotten. Perhaps you would call me. I am moving to New Orleans shortly (company transfer).
The poem enclosed in the Alpha Company envelope was one of many items left at Freedom Park. I have copies of all the letters.
The Wall
Oh wall, oh wall of granite stone.
Not tomb nor glory chart
Reflects the pain of shattered bone
And shrapnel in the heart.
Mother’s moan. Warriors weep.
Abe and George look on.
Silent souls would angels keep
Inside the great black stone.
America, America, see
No shinning perfect star.
Your undercoat of memory
Reveals an ugly scar.
Remember how the warriors died
In places hardly known.
Remember tears that widows cried
Beside the great black stone.
Ia Drang, Phonc Yen, Hamburger Hill,
Khe Sahn and hundreds more,
Five thousand days to main and kill
The victims of the war.
Peace comes now upon the mall
Where painful memories start
To wound those standing by the wall
With shrapnel in the heart.
47 East – The Short Story Sent to Phil Woodall
47 EAST
In the browning grass of fall, an ordinary business envelope stood at attention against the black wall. On the envelope two tightly handwritten words were scrawled in blue ink and could not be easily read. Who was the sealed letter addressed to? And why was it placed so strategically against that particular panel, 47E?
Who left the letter?
The urge to pick up the letter was great. To read the name and locate it on the wall. I did not know one soul on the wall. Finding the name would let me touch the wall I had no right to touch. But I didn’t out of respect for the person who wrote it and the one to whom it was addressed.
My walk continued to the very end of the east side, where the names retired in a small trickle after the enormous explosion of thousands. Time to reflect and to listen. Listen to the peacefulness of the park in which the Wall was visiting. Migrating geese flew over head and landed gracefully on the small lake across from the wall. Veterans spoke to each other acknowledging a sense of camaraderie. Names were lovingly touched by family and friends. It was a tranquil Friday afternoon: one so far from the hostility and conflicts in which all of these men and women lost their lives.
Thoughts returned to the letter. The journey back to the west side followed the swelling number of names on each panel. There at panel E47, the letter now rested on its back. I stared at the whiteness of the envelope; imagining the thoughts that might be sealed inside and realizing I could never grasp the pain and suffering that might be enclosed. I thought of setting it up so it could stand tall against the wall, a personal memorial to the one it was addressed to. As before, I had no right to touch the private letter. But as it laid on its back, my eyes were able to focus on the two words. As I read them a barreling blast burst through my heart. The tightly handwritten words quietly announced, “Alpha Company.”
Freedom Park, Charlotte, NC, October 16, 1987
creative meander 
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