FNG THOUGHTS ON RFTW
 By Judy Lacey - FNG 2003

 Memorial Day has changed forever for me - because of a group of bikers.

 When a longtime friend, Valerie, invited me to join her on a motorcycle ride called "Run For The Wall," I said why in the world would a 65-year-old woman want to travel with a bunch of motorcyclists across the country? Valerie told me these were not just "a bunch of motorcyclists"; they were Vietnam vets and vets of other wars and their supporters who do this because they donít want our country to forget about the POWs and MIAs who have never returned home. They also do it for the many Vietnam Vets who did return, but to an America hostile to those who fought over there. Anti-war sentiment was strong, and many returning veterans were not welcomed home as heroes, as veterans of previous wars were. Many vets refused to talk about their time in Vietnam; some even denied they were over there in order to avoid the questions and accusations.

 By the second day, riding with hundreds of vets on motorcycles had lost its strangeness. When I had committed to the ride, I wanted to feel a part of the group, so before we left I pulled out a denim vest, sewed a large "Run For The Wall" patch on the back, and added various pins given to me by my new friends (with rather strange names, like Fingers, Rock, Jungle Jim, Trouble, Little Big Mike.) Some of us were also sporting bright pink buttons with the letters "FNG," to identify us as a first-year participant in the Run. I learned that in Vietnam, no one wanted to be stuck with the "f------ new guy" because he was green and bad luck and could get you killed. On the Run, there is no such stigma in being the FNG; in fact, the new guys (and gals) are welcomed heartily and given support on their first trip to The Wall. Itís become a custom to take a pin off and give it to an FNG for his vest. Maybe theyíre trying to make up for having treated the FNGs so shabbily 30 years ago.

It was an exciting trip, but also a somber one. This wasnít a vacation - it was a mission. Many of the vets were going to the Wall for the first time, and it was deeply emotional for them. For those who had been suppressing memories for over 30 years, releasing them was painful. The Run helps them deal with those memories, and allows them to experience the welcome home they never got. No one is alone on this ride; they all support each other. Itís commonplace to see both men and women crying as they face their demons on the Run, not only at The Wall, but all along the way. So many things bring back memories: seeing a replica of the bamboo cages POWs were kept in, or hearing the roar of a Huey hovering overhead to greet us at one of the stops.

America is definitely trying to make amends to Vietnam vets; cities, organizations, businesses, and individuals donated to provide every meal and some of the gas for the group all the way across the country. We had breakfasts, lunches, and dinners in campgrounds, parking lots, VFW Halls, and city parks. We visited with veterans in VA hospitals, visited war memorials, and laid a wreath on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We were escorted from city to city or state to state by various state and city police and highway patrols. We were greeted by police cars, fire trucks, and a Huey helicopter. We were honored by the Navajo Nation in Arizona, where we met an original Navajo Code Talker, subject of the movie, "Wind Talker." And we were welcomed by Victor Westphal, who almost single-handedly built "Angel Fire," a beautiful, soaring, white angel wing memorial, in memory of his son David, who was killed in Vietnam. This is a true sanctuary, revered by veterans, and one of the most special stops on the Run.

I was truly amazed at the reception the vets received all across America. Whole towns came out to wave flags as we passed through. People - sometimes two, sometimes dozens - stood on freeway overpasses, waving both American flags and POW/MIA flags, and held signs saying "Welcome Home!" and "Thank you for our freedom." I had never before taken much notice of the POW flag, but now I'm painfully aware of what the stark black and white flag stands for. Sometimes other vets stood along roads or on overpasses and saluted while the hundreds of bikes passed. The vets returned the salutes with an upraised arm and clenched fist.

I've been changed by this experience; I'll never again take the men and women who fight for our freedoms for granted. I'll do whatever I can to remind our government that our POWs and MIAs must be accounted for. And maybe Iíll do this every year now; like many others before me, I donít think I can stay away.