This trip to Vietnam, to
visit the site where my father gave the ultimate sacrifice, has long been
a dream. I was 19 and my father just 40 when he left for his second
tour of duty at Marble Mountain. My family accompanied him to El
Toro Marine Air Station in the hours before dawn. As with any military
operation, it was “hurry up and wait”. As the sun was just starting
to rise, the C-130 was loaded with the troops and the families were ushered
to the tower to watch the aircraft take off. Just before the door
closed, my father appeared in the doorway for one brief, last moment.
I knew I would never see him again. It was January 19, 1969.
He was killed in action April 1, 1969 after less than 3 months in country.

With the 10th anniversary of
the fall of Saigon in 1985, I started to think about going to Vietnam.
I wanted to be immersed in the sights, sounds, smells and feelings that
my father had experienced during his time in country. Whenever I
thought of this place called Antenna Valley, I envisioned a place full
of darkness and death. I could see myself looking down on his helicopter,
seeing the confusion of scared but determined men. This was a place
of pain.
On
March 10, 2003, almost 34 years later, I saw my first glimpse of Antenna
Valley as we drove through a pass in the Que Son Mountains. I was
looking down at a peaceful, green valley. A quiet stream ran across
the valley floor. We arrived at the village of Tan Phong (formerly
Dai Phong), near where my father’s helicopter had crashed.
As Ed, Connie, Gayle and I stood
by the stream, a woman working in her vegetable garden nearby sang quietly
to herself. Some kids brought their water buffalo across the stream
and tethered them on the bank. This was about life. This was
about renewal. An elder woman from the village came down and spoke
about how she remembered the helicopters coming over the mountains.
She remembered the hard days of war that I had imagined. But today
we could stand in this valley in peace and beauty; we could send our flowers
of remembrance down the stream.
When I first started thinking
about making this trip, I thought that it would be a one-time experience.
I thought that having been to Vietnam and my father’s site, I would never
want or need to go there again. Now, I visit this beautiful valley
every day in my heart and look forward to returning to Vietnam with my
children some day.
Harvest and her
cousin, Connie Ritchie
at The Memorial
Service in China Beach
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