Cline

I shiver down the snowy path along dark, frozen wall to Panel 55W – Line 28.  Thirty years before, we dragged on cigarettes and shared our shipmate dreams.  You of Nam service and me of going home.

  

I manned the Bridge as phone talker when the blaze began.  Trapped in After Steering, you screamed.   I ordered silence on the line.   Damage Control quelled the flames.   Days later, you found me on the fantail.   We smoked and talked… said we did what we were trained to do.  Fire forged us….bound us by chance.  Desiring action, you volunteered for Swifts.  Dangerous, I thought.  Months later in battle on the Mekong, your boat’s destroyed.   Thrown overboard, you drowned.

I see your name among the 60,000.  My fingers slow…slow across the etched black granite.   Life extended… then, extinguished.   I ascend the path, breathe the frigid air and reminisce the icy senselessness.

  In January 1998, I attended a conference in Washington D.C..   My hotel was a brief walk to the Vietnam Memorial.   I visited and was moved by as I wandered among the 58,195 names who bravely gave their lives.  Gunners Mate 3^rd Class Marcus Eugene Cline and I served together briefly on the USS McMorris DE-1036 in 1967-68.  He died 24 June 1968.