The young child in his freshly pressed Cub Scout uniform was a delight to see.  He and his parents had come to pay heed to a fallen warrior. Who could that be? The boy and his mother carefully placed a bright floral bouquet, with an American flag planted in the middle, right where they wanted it.  Only then the little fellow stepped back and snapped off a sharp salute. 

For two difficult years I was a volunteer at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington. I went to the Wall every Saturday morning with a suitcase full of fear and worry.  I was a nominal National Park Service volunteer with the right cap and badge to fool the visitors. In reality, I was on a secret mission, to pay homage to those who had lost their lives fighting for this great country. I wanted to give them just a little of what they gave me.

I was blind to the names on the Wall.  As a Vietnam veteran, I had to be.  Yet, slowly I came to cherish the families that honored their dead.  They were easy to spot.  Their eyes told all. 

After two years of this sacred duty, I called it quits.

A couple of years ago I was invited to a function at Marine Barracks in Washington.  A good friend from Southern Pines, Charles Ross, told me that he had lost a brother in Vietnam.  I told him that I would find his brother's name and say a prayer in his memory.  Late at night I made the trek. From one end to the other there were people with flashlights and candles. I reported to Charles that Ernest died on the same day with six other men from his unit.

Now that I have been away from the "Wall" for twenty-four years, I see a larger picture.  I realize that war isn't simply about the men and women who serve and die, but about the families left behind who sacrifice so much in the making and nurturing of our war fighters. Think of Charles who had lost his brother.  His loss is immeasurable.

Let it be said that parents are not supposed to bury their children.  Then, of course, neither are the spouses.  For the other half, the dream of growing old with someone they love evaporates with the night wind of war. Finally, there are the children.  Who will teach Tommy how to play baseball?  Who will walk Caroline down the aisle at her wedding?

Now, I am ready to be bodacious.  We should build a memorial for the families who have lost members in the battles in Iraq and Afghanistan.  I am thinking of a child-friendly place with information organized that links immediate family members with the decedent.

We are a great nation.  On this Memorial Day, let us remember not only those who have been lost in battle, but those left behind.  By doing so, we will recognize those who have gone unacknowledged for too long.

I still wonder about the Cub Scout.  Could he be one of our brave warriors in Iraq or Afghanistan?  I'd bet that he is on patrol right now, carrying himself with honor and grace.  And when night falls, I am certain that he will write his mother, telling her that he is proud to wear the stars and stripes. He will tell her of the school he built and the child he vaccinated. And someday he will come with his own little girl to the Family Memorial, and she will bravely salute in a way that makes us all proud.