THE WALL OF FACES

American hero,
I am posting remembrances for fallen soldiers of the Vietnam War as part of the Gridley High School Posting Project. It is with the utmost respect that I thank you for your contribution to our nation. It is men like you who fought so bravely in times of peril that have earned the right to be called heroes. You will never be forgotten.

Gratefully,
Joel Campbell

Although we never met personally, I want to thank you Michael Barry Turner, for your courageous and valiant service, faithful contribution, and your most holy sacrifice given to this great country of ours!

Your Spirit is alive--and strong, therefore Marine, you shall never be forgotten, nor has your death been in vain!

Again, thank you PFC Michael Barry Turner, for a job well done!

REST IN ETERNAL PEACE MY MARINE FRIEND

I was a high school friend, often remember the sacrifice Mike made for our country.

In commemoration of my brother Michael Barry Turner, PFC USMC;
April 6th, 1948,
KIA Tet Offensive, Battle of Hue City Feb. 18, 1968

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Across the Belvedere...

Beneath wind turned flags,
Infinite Peace,
Brothers join hands in solemn memory.

As the cold wind of time
blows through fields of valiant stone,
for as long as I live
you're never alone.

D.Turner
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For those of you that didn't know, my brother Mike was mortally wounded
in battle 30 years ago this year. Since that time, my father maintained
a constant count of Memorial Day adornments to all the grave sites in
Marietta National Cemetary during our annual trip to my brother's grave
to set out a wreath. It was always a humbling little venture to hear my
old man gripe, bitch and swear about a lack of remembrance on this one
time of the year that he upheld for the sake of his son.

He never missed a year until his passing in 1987. Those of you that
never met my old man would never guess where some of my "browbeating"
habits derive. It's hard to find a way to describe how my dad had the
foresight to "arrange" for his own burial as a Veteran of Guadacanal, in
a little triangular patch next to my brother's grave...an area that I
had thought to simply be a small space just at the end of the row of
headstones. Obviously, my father had come to an "understanding" with
the caretaker in 1968 transpiring something akin to an "act of God and
Congress."

In that regard, my annual sojourn and commemorative display has doubled
with a pair of red, white & blue live wreaths that stand side by side
below the belvedere in Marietta looking out over thousands of marble
headstones with miniature flags. While I drive through the National
cemetery to the gravesites now, I too count personal commemorations, and
just like my old man, I too...gripe, bitch and swear.

Yet, unlike my dad, I've learned to accept my generation to be
considerably unlike his in certain matters. Some people will NOT go to
Marietta National for the pain that it causes. Others will never go to
Marietta National because they've never had to live through a KIA death.
My mother, a BAM (Beautiful American Marine) in her own time, has never
once been to The Wall or it's mobile counterpart because I truly believe
she refuses to allow herself the same agony I witnessed when I answered
the doorbell one bright Saturday morning to our pastor and a Marine in
uniform 30 years ago.

I 'spose it's all relative to families dying away and moving far from
these honored grounds. It's human nature to steer clear to the obvious
dangers to morale and life, feelings and spirit. It's a lot easier to
keep out of harms way and cleanly avoid the day to day terrors surrounding each of us.

Unless, you're 19 and right off the plane; thrown into the mill with
thousands of Marines that had no idea what the Tet Offensive would ever
mean. Advancing a city with a deceptively pastoral little name like Hue
that became the purgatory styled basis for the Stanley Kubrick movie,
"Full Metal Jacket." It's only become apparent years after the fact
that most of the new blood dropped into Viet Nam during that period
found themselves embroiled in something not quite expected and only
within days or hours of their arrival. To die in Viet Nam was jested
with a "No Experience Necessary" sign posted upon your arrival.

"It's a shame that such a young man has died" were the words spoken at
several eulogies during the 40 days it took to bring my brother home.
Actually, it truly wasn't a shame because Mike died fulfilling some
directive... that only Mike could ever know. It was his fate to die there,
surrounded by strangers and just maybe...hopefully...a few pals with a wound
that should not have allowed him to suffer...hopefully my brother did not suffer.
This...I'll never know.

Mike had the opportunities. Mike could have stayed away. Steered clear
of the obvious dangers to morale and life, feelings and spirit. Stayed
out of harms way while avoiding the carnage of the Battle of Hue City.
Now THAT would have been human nature!

Rather and instead, my brother took the point into the mawl and what
Viet Nam gave back....I honor each year. Mike chose to be in harms way,
and fate chose Mike with the cross hairs of sniper fire. He died as a
19 year old Marine, for all eternity in dress blues and white gloves;
never marrying his high school love; never taking over my father's
business and never there to sort out his siblings during the tumult of
the 60's and 70's. His death rent some personal fabric that never seems
to mend, but then again...this is what makes Memorial Day that much more
personal to me and countless others that have gone through the process
of an immediate family KIA.

The purpose of this missive is nothing more than a 3rd decade honoring
that of my older brother keeping in mind the hundreds of thousands
before and after him in "service to a grateful nation"....those words
being the offering from the OIC of each funeral in presenting the burial
flag to the immediate family. One of the purposes of Memorial Day is
NOT the unoffical first day of Summer, rather it's the purpose behind
those final words..."a grateful nation." For me, another rending period
of reflection as I take two wreaths to the National Cemetery and see
thousands of unadorned and forgotten graves from many battles and
realize that one day, these two stones will likewise go without the
personal commemorations they will always deserve. At that point, it's
up to you.

In the same fashion, it was up to Mike, too. In choosing not to steer
clear or keeping out of harm's way. By bravely overcoming any fear
within himself to go over and beyond that basic part of human nature and
instinct while a ferocious battle surrounded him, my brother Mike found
himself in common with these hundreds of thousands of men and women that
likewise saw their hopes, ideals and dreams snuffed in a single fateful
moment.

If you can't think of any one thing in particular to raise a toast to
this holiday, think of one 19 year old Marine named Mike and in that
salut' you'll be honoring the memories of hundreds of thousands that
went to war on our behalf...with the same hopes, ideals and dreams that
made my brother enlist to the service of his Country, his "grateful
nation" and his Corp.

Dan Turner
Memorial Day 1998