More than Names on the Wall

publication date: Jul 3, 2008

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author/source: Jonathan Copsey / STAFF

By Jonathan Copsey / STAFF

There are 58,209 names listed on that black granite wall. 58,209 soldiers who gave their lives fighting a war that many of them did not understand until they set foot in the jungles of Vietnam. A war that many do not understand to this day.

Among those who died were 1,582 Georgians, including four Alpharettans and many more from nearby areas.

With the construction of the 75 meter-long Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial in Washington D.C., the war became more than just a period in history; it became names. The names of every fallen American soldier adorn the wall that acts so much as a figurative grave not only for the fallen, but also for the emotions and feelings surrounding the conflict.

For the families of those killed during the conflict, the wall acts as a personal memorial for their loved ones. To run a finger over each name – each son and brother, daughter and sister, husband and father, wife and mother – is to connect with those who died in a foreign land not so long ago.

But no matter how beautiful a design or how moving seeing an engraving may be, nothing is more powerful than the stories to be told along with those names. The stories that give more than a regiment number and date, but of who it was who gave his life and, perhaps more importantly, why? There are lessons to be learned from conflict and it is the duty of those left behind to tell it for those who died; it is the responsibility of those who did not live it to listen.

For the dead are much more than just names on a wall.

Private Tommy J. Holtzclaw III
Tommy was just 17 when he signed up for the marines in March of 1966. His name is on panel 18E of the wall.

The graduate of O’Keefe High School (now part of Georgia Tech) needed his parents’ permission to sign up, but as he would be 18 in April, he convinced them to enlist him. They did not want to send their smart, popular, eldest son off to war, but he was determined. And so he went to boot camp and then, on December 15, 1966, he shipped out to Vietnam.

Tommy, who grew up in northern Atlanta, wrote home almost every day, and it is his letters that retell his story. His nieces, Terri Walker and Connie Hughes, collected his letters and turned them into a book titled “Letters From Tommy J.”

“I didn’t know a lot about the Vietnam War until I started working on this,” said Walker, who never knew her Uncle Tommy. She and her sister were only toddlers when he was killed, and the family never spoke about him.

“When we were growing up, it was kind of an unspoken rule that we would not talk of Tommy J.,” Walker said. “We had an old Victrola in our living room that was covered in purple velvet, and on top of it was a picture of Tommy in his high school graduation, one of him in uniform and some pictures from the funeral. In my grandmother’s house there were a couple of pictures, and when you asked, ‘Who was that?’ nobody wanted to talk about it. We grew up with this image that that was our uncle and he was killed in Vietnam… And we learned to quit asking.”

It was only after Tommy’s mother died that the letters he wrote home were finally found among her possessions. 

“When I started reading these letters from him, he started coming to life. But the sad part about it was that every day I brought him alive he still died.”

Through his letters, a picture of Tommy formed in the minds of his nieces. He was very proud of the work he and his fellow soldiers were doing in the steaming jungles of Asia, firmly believing in the mission and the inevitable success of the West, but the resentment at home obviously bothered him. 

“I wish people would not protest this war,” wrote Tommy. “It would be really nice to know that people understood what we’re trying to do… The V.C [Vietcong] here are more powerful than where I used to be. Nobody has messed with them and it will take us a while to get them under control, but I guarantee you we will. The sooner we do the sooner I come home.”

Despite his pride at serving his country, Tommy nevertheless did not want his friends and family taking part in it. Several times he discouraged his younger brother from enlisting and, when he heard that his best friend (whose nickname was Dollar) had planned to do so, he wrote:

“I sure am sorry to hear about Dollar wanting to come into the Marines. I wish I could talk to him and make him join the reserves or navy or something else. [But] if he wants action, the Marine Corps is the one.”

Tommy was killed on April 21, 1967, just three days shy of his 19th birthday. He had been in the country only four months. He wrote a letter home the day before he died:

“Hello family,” he wrote, “it’s been four days since I’ve been able to write because we were out on a South Vietnamese soldiers’ hill for security. We just got back and are going out on a company operation tonight. It will be hairy because I will have to walk point. Maybe we will have some success. There is supposed to be at least a squad of Vietcong where we are going. I hope everything is OK… I got a birthday card and I appreciate it. I’m still considering myself 18 for four more days. I don’t want to get older, really.”

Private Claude McCan Jr.
Claude McCan joined the army to get away. Get away from rural Fulton County, get away from segregation and, perhaps most importantly, to get away from his uncle. His name is on panel 51E of the wall.

He went to Bailey Johnson High School in Alpharetta – the only black high school in North Fulton – and was among the final graduating class before the school was shut down and merged with the white schools.

Claude had led a tough life. His father had died when Claude was little and his mother a few years later when he was in middle school. Both died of heart attacks. The young McCan grew up in the home of his uncle and cousins who treated him as their own, but Claude always felt like a burden on his family. So he left.

Claude’s second cousin is Deborah Robinson, who was the same age as Claude. The two grew up together.

“Back then kids were so much different than they are now,” said Robinson. “There was segregation at that time. That was just the way of life. And we knew our place. You can do this, but you can’t do that. We thought differently, and the biggest thing we could portray was character. And [Claude] had perfect character. He highly respected people and he was like a leader. Very good-natured. He was a kid that was in everything. Played basketball and an all around good student. Made good grades – but he could have made better.”

It was in December of 1967 that Claude left for Vietnam. Being the only surviving member of his family, he was excused from the draft unlike many of his friends, but Claude signed up anyway.

“Joining the army was the best way to get out of here, and young men did it all the time,” said Robinson. “Things were just different than they are today. There weren’t that many jobs here [in North Fulton]. This was woods and farms and country. There was very little for black people out here. You either moved away to Atlanta or you went to Decatur.” Claude went to Vietnam.

Claude was killed April 20, 1968 during operations in the Thua Thien region of Vietnam. It was the most violent area in the war, with more American deaths there than in any other province in the country.

News of his sudden death – just one month into his tour of duty – had a massive impact on the small communities, both black and white, of North Fulton.

“Everybody was devastated,” mourned Robinson. “He had just left. Martin Luther King was killed shortly before, so we were all still shocked from that. The whole community was devastated. We were just a small community back then. There was a lot of sadness and mourning. It was a big funeral. People from everywhere turned up. Nobody from the area had been killed [until then]. There were people who had been hurt, but none had been killed.”

End Note
Tommy and Claude’s stories are just two of the many that could have been told. For more about veterans and those who died, contact your local Veterans of Foreign Wars office or American Legion office. For more information about Tommy Holtzclaw and the book about him, visit www.lettersfromtommyj.com.