Reprinted from Voices From the Wall, an anthology comprised by Jan C. Scruggs of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund, and from the Wall Street Journal

"Thanks for sharing your thoughts with our nation with your very moving article in the Wall Street Journal..."

By Q. X. Pham, a major in the Marine Reserve, lives in California. He will speak today at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

"Those who expect to reap the blessings of liberty must, like men, undergo the fatigues of supporting it."
--Thomas Paine

The night I left Saigon I thought I'd never see war again. On a dark and humid spring morning, April 23, 1975, my family was rushed onto a U.S. aircraft headed for freedom. A life of joy and happiness amid a war in our backyard came to an end. Had the war continued and had I remained in Vietnam, I would have followed my father's footsteps to become a pilot in the South Vietnamese Air Force. Or I could have been shipped out to fight the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia.

Instead I came to California at age 10, grew up in a suburban community and graduated from UCLA with a bachelor's degree. My father, who had achieved the rank of lieutenant colonel, was left behind and wound up serving more than 12 years in Communist re-education camps. I wanted more than anything else to uphold his honor, so I enlisted in the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School at Quantico, Va., in summer 1986.

The officer's commission and the accompanying honors faded from my mind after the first week at OCS. I just wanted to graduate. It was a long, hot, tortuous and physically demanding summer. But the heaviest burden was the emotional toll of being one of the first Vietnamese-American candidate to undertake OCS. I knew the reputation of South Vietnamese as poor soldiers remained on the minds of some OCS staff, especially the Vietnam veterans. The often-used word at OCS--unsat (unsatisfactory)--haunted me every time I felt I could no longer keep up on a forced march or a long run through the woods.

As I watched training films and recalled Hollywood movies, images of Marines killing Asians on the battlefields of the South Pacific, Korea and Vietnam left an indelible mark on me. I felt Asians had been demonized as a result of the Corps's illustrious combat history.

My classmate Mark Henderson, whose father was a Vietnam veteran, suggested that we visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington during our last liberty weekend before graduation. It was difficult to stand before the names of those who gave their lives to fight for my freedom. They were not even from my country. Why didn't they go to Canada? Why didn't they question their orders? Where would I be now if they hadn't fought the Communists? What would their lives be like now had they lived?

Up until that point, my main goal was just to complete OCS and return to civilian life. At the Wall, I realized that I would not be standing there without the sacrifices of those whose names were inscribed. I accepted my commission a year later, after finishing college. I wound up serving seven years on active duty as a Marine helicopter pilot and flew combat and support missions during Operation Desert Storm and in Somalia. The day the Gulf War ended, I felt I had earned my American citizenship and paid back my debt to our great nation.

When I visited the Wall a second time, in 1988, I recognized the name of Second Lieutenant Terrence C. Graves, a Medal of Honor winner who was killed in action in 1968. Graves was 22 when he died; a portrait of him hung on the first floor of Graves Hall, an officers' quarters. In the painting, Lt. Graves wore his dress blues without any decorations and looked like the rest of the young lieutenants running around Graves Hall 20 years later. During my six-month stay at Graves Hall, I would stare at his portrait and wonder if I could ever live up to his sacrifice.
 

More than 30 years after the first American combat troops landed in Vietnam, the blame continues. Vietnam veterans say the press lost the war. The South Vietnamese blame the Americans for abandoning them. Antiwar protesters blame "warmongers." But the dead served. The dead did not point the finger at anyone. The dead cannot be blamed. They must be remembered and honored.

I recall something I read about warmongers prior to going to Saudi Arabia in 1990. A warmonger is a person who is invincible in peace and invisible in war. A warmonger is always ready to lay down your life for his country. Those whose names were inscribed on the wall laid down their lives for me and my former country. They were not warmongers. I sincerely hope I have honored their sacrifice with my own service.