Mas

By: VICKI ADAME, Special to Más

Description: The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. It was the time that ended World War I, the “war to end all wars.” If only those words could have held.

The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

It was the time that ended World War I, the “war to end all wars.”   If only those words could have held. But they didn’t. More wars were on the horizon.

And perhaps none of those wars have caused more pain, more emotional and physical scars than Vietnam.

I know there are two Adames listed on The Wall, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C.,  a stretch of black granite that includes the names of more than 58,000 who gave their lives for their country.

I made my first visit to Washington D.C. in August 2004. I was there to attend a minority journalism convention. I arrived a few days early to take in the sights.

After arriving on a redeye flight from Seattle, and sleeping for a few hours, I set out to see the tributes that stand in honor of the men and ideas that helped create our nation.

It was terribly humid. When I made it to The Wall,  my heart fell. Part of it was closed for upgrades to the lighting, including the side where Panel 48E and the name of Gilbert Adame lay engraved. Gilbert was from Colton and I felt a connection because he was a fellow Californian.

A few months before while working a story I had done an Internet search to see if there were any Adames on The Wall. I found two, Gilbert and Arthur Adame. But I never wrote down the panel where Arthur's name rested.   

I began the walk back to the hotel not bothering to look for the name of Arthur Adame on The Wall.

Early the next morning, my friend, Melissa, arrived.

That afternoon, we set out to explore the city. We had one more free day before the start of the convention, so we made the most of it. We went to the Smithsonian, Ford’s Theatre, several other places.

That night we decided it would be great to see the monuments by night. We hopped in a cab and in a matter of minutes we were being dropped off by the Lincoln Memorial. What a sight. It was close to 9 p.m.,  but there were still several tourists milling around.

We walked up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, took pictures, and sat on the steps overlooking the pond and the Washington Monument. We walked to the Korean War Veterans memorial. We stood amid the statues of soldiers from that war.

Before leaving, we decided to walk over to The Wall. We made our way down the pathway leading to names that stand as silent tribute.

Only the west portion of The Wall was available for viewing. We weren’t looking for any particular name so we began at the panel that marked the center of the memorial.

As Melissa walked on ahead, I suddenly stopped. Something compelled me to reach out and touch the names.

As I ran my fingers across the engravings, I moved my hand in a semi-arch before stopping on a name.

I was about to turn away when my eyes caught the name my hand came to rest on.

I was speechless and frozen in place. A chill ran through my body. My hand had come to rest on the name of Arthur Adame.

I called Melissa over. Her eyes expressed the disbelief I felt.

How was this possible? I hadn’t even looked up the panel he was on. But yet there it was.

When I got back home I looked up Arthur Pina Adame on the Internet.

I discovered he was from San Antonio, Texas and born April 8, 1949. He served in the Army with D Company 1st Battalion 5th U.S. Cavalry 1st Cavalry Division. His tour of duty began Dec. 11, 1969 - three days before I was born.

He wasn’t in Vietnam long. He died in Cambodia on May 22, 1970, some 5 months after shipping out.

He was only 21.

I learned he was posthumously promoted to sergeant and is buried at Ft. Sam Houston National Cemetery in San Antonio.

I still don’t know if we were related. But I can’t help but think that we were. I don’t think it was coincidence that my hand would  happen to fall on his name out of thousands on that black granite.

I feel in my heart that Arthur guided me to Panel 10W, Row 078, where his name rests as a reminder of what he gave for his country.

Sgt. Adame, your sacrifice won’t be forgotten.