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In 1967, a 5 year old boy traveled with his parents and sisters to visit a cousin he'd never met before and would never get the opportunity to meet again. The cousin lay in a box, under an American flag, surrounded by beautiful flowers and wailing people. The boy had never been to the faraway land that had taken the life of this twenty year old, but he would hear the name over the next several years as his family watched the evening news every night and studied the photos and film each night provided.
52 years later, the man who was this boy stands before a long, black wall with over 58,000 stark, white names representing lost souls that were the cousin's brethren. A somber crowd joins the man that stood before the coffin as a boy, searching the panels for the name of their family member or a pal that was not as fortunate as they and had also made their way home in one of those flag-draped boxes of their own.
I was William
Searching
52 years later, the man who was this boy stands before a long, black wall with over 58,000 stark, white names representing lost souls that were the cousin's brethren. A somber crowd joins the man that stood before the coffin as a boy, searching the panels for the name of their family member or a pal that was not as fortunate as they and had also made their way home in one of those flag-draped boxes of their own.
I was William
Searching