Bobby

Bobby

In memory of all who served, we will always remember



“These names, seemingly infinite in number, convey the sense of overwhelming numbers, while unifying these individuals in to a hole.” Quote from the statement presented with Maya Lin’s submission.



Maya Lin heard about a contest that some people in Washington D.C. were running. A commission was formed to build a Vietnam War Memorial. The Prize money for the winning submission was worth over $10,000 dollars so she thought it was worth the trouble of finding a design. Besides she could also use it for her design class at Yale University. The dead line for the submissions was in March; she had only received a “B” on her project so she thought she didn’t have chance in competing. A few weeks later two men from Washington D.C. showed up on campus and told her the submission she had entered was selected hands down. Maya was surprised, only 21 years old and beat some of the top design firms in the country, this was her big break.



Maya flew down to Washington D.C. to receive her prize and survey the sight where the memorial would be. It was two acres in the middle of the monuments of Washington D.C. When she went back to her hotel a pool of reporters and cameramen were waiting for her. She wasn’t ready for all this commotion. To her it was only a contest she won. She had little knowledge of the Vietnam War and had no interest in learning a lot about it. She fell asleep that night with grandiose visions of people touching soldiers’ names etched into a black granite wall. If only she knew the power of her vision.

Maya went back to Yale and finished off her architecture degree. Over the months she worked on her design. The press hounded her and controversy grew in magnitude. She went back to Washington D.C. many times in those months, every time she would show her face the

press would be waiting. She never knew her design would cause this big of an uproar. She knew Vietnam was a heated issue but had not expected this. She went back to the hotel and ignored the press as she went through the doors. She wanted the memorial to be a place where people could come and see a name, not a statement of political upheaval or the misgivings of a government. It was supposed to be a place of healing and remembrance but it was turning into a political circus.



Maya went to bed that night wanting to give up and go home. She had dreamt about touching a name on the wall and seeing her reflection staring back at her. The name was Robert Edwin Echols. ‘Who were you Robert, only one of 58,000 names? What should I call you? One of many but still standing alone on this wall, a part of history, a fragment of our memory. Who are you Robert?’ Maya touched the name once again. She heard a young man’s voice behind her, “Call me Bobby.” Maya glanced into the reflection of the black granite. She saw a young man in combat fatigues starring back at her. ‘Was that Bobby?’ . Maya woke up in a cold sweat, dazed and confused by her experience. ‘What the hell just happened?’ she thought. She didn’t know and didn’t want to know. She just wanted to break ground on the project and get the damn thing started.



After her dream the night before, she didn’t want to deal with the media or the petty delays. Most of all she was tired of all the stupid questions.



“Why is it black? It’s the color of shame.”



“It looks like a black bat or a ugly gash in the earth.”



“It has nothing to do with war or even honor of those served.”



Maya didn’t care what other people thought. She knew, if it were built they would come. She didn’t exactly know whom but it didn’t matter.



The granite was selected from quarries in India some of the rarest in the world. Finally her vision was happing, the names were being etched to the stone. The first section arrived in July of 1982. Families, friends, and former soldiers arrived to watch the historic event. 140 slabs of granite with over 137 lines of names on the largest panel were set one by one. Maya wasn’t there

that day, it was decided because of the controversy her name be unspoken.



Since the first stone was set it was Maya’s chance to speak her feelings to try to save the integrity of her work. By this time the little girl from Yale University knew how to handle the media. She was proud of herself and her creation was finally being built. The next day Maya went back to the unfinished wall. As she did in her dream she focused on her reflection, standing before her was a small, beautiful young lady, ten thousand miles from a place she knew nothing about. Taking on people she never heard of just a year and a half before. She stood there asking herself it was worth it. The pain, the sorrow, and anguish of the last year. Was it really worth it she thought? Her focus changed from the reflection to a single name on the wall. Robert Edwin Echols, she remembered her dream, it was Bobby. She one again focused on the reflection and seen the same young man in combat fatigues. Bobby, she thought, is that you? She heard a voice in the background say, “I played basketball.”

Maya felt someone touch her on her shoulder and turned around. She was startled. “Bobby….”

“Sorry to startle you, Miss Lin, but there are some reporters here to see you.”



The reporters wanted Maya to describe what the completed wall would look like. Maya described a “V” shaped wall with over 58,127 names. Each name would be in chronological order of their death. Starting at 1959 and ending in 1975. The wall would be polished black and would span just over 493 feet. The smallest panel would be only 8 inches tall and contain only 5 names. Maya stood there the whole time thinking of only one name, Bobby’s.



“Maya wake up! We’re under attack, we need to take cover!” There was an explosion outside the medical tent. The Viet Kong was attacking from the north. Mortar shells were being set off everywhere. There was no cover. Bobby had gone out in to the fields of Pleikui with his platoon to try to stop the attack. Bobby never knew what hit him. He never came back. Bobby’s body was recovered and brought back to the evac. hospital. Maya was there when it was brought in. She looked down at his mangled body and saw herself as a nine year old little girl.

Maya woke up screaming. The stress of the project was getting to her. She needed a break but she knew if she left now she would loose the battle to save her work from being destroyed.

The next morning she went down to the wall to stared at Bobby’s name. ‘Who were you Bobby Echols? Who are you?’



“I’m from Georgia. I was only 19.”



Maya turned around to see who was talking to her; no one was there. “Bobby…”

The sound of bulldozers and the beeping of the semi-trucks drowned out Maya’s thoughts. The wall had a month to go before the November 14th dedication. Thousands of people had already seen the names. Section by section more people were showing up on the grounds. The project was now public domain and there was no stopping it. A Marine Vet came up to the construction site workers and asked if he could put his buddy’s purple hart into the concrete of the wall. He saluted as the concrete enveloped the purple hart. The wall started out as simple contest but was becoming a legacy.

Maya was so stressed she thought she was seeing things. People in the distance, blood on the wall, Bobby…she needed a break. As with the ground breaking in the spring, Maya decided not to be at the official dedication. She wanted the dedication to be a somber day and a day of reflection for the living as well as the dead. The fight for political stands would stop if only for

a day.



“Maya…”



“Bobby?”



“Who’s Bobby?” Maya’s mom looked at her strange. “You okay? You have been acting a little strange lately.”



“Yea, it’s just that this whole thing with the wall and the media has gotten a little overwhelming. Besides today is the fourteenth, I wish I was there.”



“Who’s Bobby anyway?”



“Just some name on the wall. A nineteen year old kid from Georgia who used to play basketball.”

Maya arrived back in Washington D.C. a few weeks after the dedication. This was the first time she had seen the wall completed. Her vision was achieved. To her the wall stood for a reminder of everything that happened in the past year. She went to find Bobby’s name, with the wall complete she had to use the directory.



“Echols, Robert Edwin: panel 23E, line 57; Died 1967.” Maya walked down the lit path. The names peering out of the black granite wall. “Where are you Bobby?” Maya said as she passed the etched names. She spotted Bobby’s name and rubbed the tip of her finger over the engraved lettering. This was an automatic reaction. ‘Was it meant to be?’ Maya thought. ‘This lettering on the wall, was it that special?’ Maya started to cry. This was strange; she seemed to never cry.

“Maya…” She turned around to see who it was. Bobby in his full combat fatigues was standing

before her. This time she was not afraid.



“Hi Bobby.” A serial feeling fell over the scene, and Maya felt like she was nine

years old.



“Thank you, I was only nineteen.” Bobby turned around and disappeared into the polished black granite. In the distance Maya could hear Bobby’s voice, “Tell my mother

I’m sorry.”



Maya left the rose she had brought with her at the base of her creation. “I will Bobby, I will.”

First off this is a complete work of fiction and has no ties to what Mya Lin really went through. ( Although I hope I got close.) With that out of the away lets move on, I needed to do a paper about a peace of art work. It could be anything that was of tangible meaning anywhere from a Monet to the Sistine Chapel. I decided to choose the Veit Nam memorial. Even though I hand never been there I knew that I could write about it. As I was diving deeper in to my research I found that Mia Lin was about the same age when she designed the wall as I was when I wrote this story. The similarities did not stop there, as she, I was not too familiar with what happen in that horrid war. I was not even born when it started. I knew that a lot of people had died and a lot more had seen the wall. I did not know that it caused a up uproar to this day.



The firs time this story was read by some one other than me it had the affect of ”Why did I have the right to write this.” Meaning I knew nothing about what happed and could not even conceive what the Wall meant.



Robert Edwin

Echols is solder that died as I descried in the story. I found out his name when I asked around if people knew of names that might be on the wall. This friend of mine knew of him because they went to the same high school. They were about three years apart. He was the star player on the basket ball team his senior year. Months after his eighteenth birthday de died in the fields of Pleikui, Veit Nam. The high school a year later had an assembly in his honor. Their star Basket ball Player had died.



I was reading this story out loud to my mother as she was driving me home from college. We were about five blocks from home when I got to the part about the dream. We were stopped at a four way stop and both of us stepped out of reality and did not realize it until the other drivers behind us honked us awake. That is when I realized I needed to share this story with as many people as I could. Months latter I was able to visit the Viet Nam Memorial with a few friend of mine. It was a brilliant blue but record cold day for Washington D.C., I was not prepared for the weather. Because of the this there was no on the grounds of the memorial. I had decided to place a copy of this story along with Jungle of Sorrows at the base of the wall under his name with a note that read:



To the family of Robert E. Echols

Please make sure this gets to them.

I hope it helps.



I never knew if the stories got to them but it didn’t matter. I did my duty and I hope Bobby is at peace. The painting “Reflections” with a platoon of solders appearing out of the wall is a good representation of what this story mean to me and everyone involved.



©1997 Christopher T Guthrie