THE WALL OF FACES

Eddy was my uncle but he was only 3 years older than me. We grew up together, went to school together and I was 18 and devastated when he was 21 and killed in Hoc Mon. Vietnam. Decades later I amazingly received a gift of forgiveness and remorse from a Viet Cong veteran who was in the same battle that killed Eddy. I felt the gift was for all who suffered losses in Vietnam, not just for me. So I felt compelled to write a book about it. The story of growing up with Eddy and the gift from a Viet Cong veteran whom I've never met can be read in the book, The Box by Lynne Ludwick and can be purchased at Amazon.com for $10. A percentage of proceeds will help fund a scholarship for college-bound students who have lost a parent in any war.

Dear PFC Edward August Schultz, sir

As an American, I would like to thank you for your service and for your sacrifice made on behalf of our wonderful country. The youth of today could gain much by learning of heroes such as yourself, men and women whose courage and heart can never be questioned.

May God allow you to read this, and may He allow me to someday shake your hand when I get to Heaven to personally thank you. May he also allow my father to find you and shake your hand now to say thank you; for America, and for those who love you.

With respect, and the best salute a civilian can muster for you, Sir

Curt Carter

Originally a black & white photo, Eddie's mom had the photo colorized. [Image courtesy of Sandy Melendez]

PFC Edward A. Schultz' grave is located at the San Luis Cemetery in San Luis Obispo, CA.

I was the first grandchild to make Eddy an uncle at the age of three. I followed him around the farm where he was my hero long before we ever heard the word Viet Nam. I helped him milk the cows, play with the bow and arrow, ride the go-carts. He inspired me to get the last drop of ice cream by swishing water in the empty bowl and drinking it, he saved my life when I started to fall down a steep embankment, he inspired his own parents to start going to church when he was just a boy of nine. He didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted at a time when his adult life was just beginning. He had always wanted to grow up to manage a ranch, and he was well on his way. He had been FFA President and won the State Farmer's Award. He was dedicated to family and church. He told me just before he left not to worry...that more people were killed on the freeways than in Viet Nam. When we were kids and playing cowboys and indians he made up a rule that you could count to 10 and come back to life. Though 43 years have passed, I am still counting and wishing it were so simple.