News

Jul 03, 2023

My View: A day that's about so much more than picnics

My flag were hung and picnic supplies ready to celebrate summer’s arrival. But

My flag were hung and picnic supplies ready to celebrate summer's arrival. But my heart was heavy as Memorial Day approached.

Judith Schurr Salzer

We were 19 and had graduated high school in the spring of 1964 – he in a town outside of Boston, I from Kenmore East. A year later, when I was in nursing school in Boston, one of my classmates arranged our blind date.

She thought we might hit it off. We did. Ralph, his best friend Smokey and my classmate JoAnn had been high school friends. Ralph and Smokey joined the Marines after high school and had just completed basic training.

They were home on leave before they were to begin their trip to Vietnam. Ralph and I had two dates. That's all there was time for.

On our last date he was in uniform. He was leaving in the morning. We enjoyed each other's company and promised to write each other while he was gone. I wrote daily; he wrote daily when he was able.

I shared the trials and tribulations of nursing student days, the ups and downs, the humorous stories and the sad. I tried to keep my letters upbeat and light. He wrote of lonely times and how he enjoyed getting my letters.

His friend Sam had no one writing to him. Would I mind corresponding some with Sam as well? Of course not! I was beginning to understand just a bit about the impact of war. A strange new world for me.

I corresponded with the guys for months – until the letters stopped. I was home for Thanksgiving in 1965 when my friend JoAnn called. Ralph had been killed in the brutal fighting in Quang Nam Province, Vietnam on Nov. 29 – the day after my grandmother had passed away. I remember just emptiness, confusion, and the inability to understand.

Eventually, it hit me that I had been Ralph's last date. Not his last date before leaving. The last date of his life. It felt like an incredible burden.

The next year, I joined the Army Student Nurse Program. I had a number of reasons, some spoken, some not.

After the Vietnam Memorial Wall was built in D.C., I visited several times – each time finding Ralph's name just to say "hi." So much lost potential on that wall. It's always a spiritual experience for me.

I still had all of the letters he wrote and photos he sent. I cherished having them. Finally, a few years ago, I decided it was time to say goodbye for good.

Friends were in DC with me, but I needed to do it alone. I made a pilgrimage to the Wall with all of Ralph's letters and pictures. Through my tears, I left the small bundle at the foot of the granite slab bearing his name.

I knew they would become part of the permanent collection of mementos left at the wall. It is important to me that Ralph is remembered in that history.

A road was renamed for him in his hometown of Abington, Mass., but I’m sure only the older generation there even knows who he was.

I hear Smokey made it home OK. I never heard from Sam again. I searched for any information on what had happened to him, but to no avail. I fear the worst.

I can still celebrate Memorial Day with a barbecue or gathering of friends, but the day to me will also always be a sad reminder of lives lost through generations of wars. For me, Ralph Hamlin Jr. represents these losses.

I, for one, will never forget.

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