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WRITING SAMPLES

AN OPEN LETTER TO VIETNAM VETERANS

Nov. 21, 2017

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SAN ANGELO, Texas --

Dear Vietnam Veterans,
I feel a deep connection to all of you. I am a Vietnamese adoptee, born in Vinh Long, Vietnam. In 1975, with the fall of Saigon imminent, President Gerald Ford sanctioned a humanitarian effort to mass evacuate thousands of orphans to their adoptive families throughout the world. This historical operation was known as Operation Babylift, and I am one of those orphans.

The initial flight was an Air Force mission using the massive Galaxy C-5A cargo plane. In a cruel twist of fate, the inaugural flight ended in tragedy. Fifteen minutes into the flight, the cargo door blew off causing a rapid decompression and forcing the pilots to return to Tan San Nhut Airbase. With no hydraulics to control the plane, the pilots instinctively maneuvered the aircraft. Despite their valiant efforts, they fell short of the runway by two miles. The airplane, the size of a football field, crashed into fiery pieces spread across the rice field. 135 lives were lost; children, escorts, humanitarians, and military members died April 4, 1975. Eleven Airmen are on the Wall amongst the brothers and sisters you served with. It was the remarkable skills of Air Force pilots Capt. Bud Traynor and Capt. Tilford Harp that ensured 178 people survived that tragic crash. My adoptive parents have always believed I am a survivor of that fateful flight.

On Nov. 18 I spoke and participated in a pinning ceremony for the 50th commemoration of the Vietnam War at Fort Concho in San Angelo, Texas. The Wall That Heals was on display, and it was the perfect backdrop for the ceremony. This half-scale replica of the Vietnam War Memorial was powerful and majestic as it spread 250 feet across the Fort Concho parade ground.

Braving the West Texas winds, this day was to honor the families of fallen veterans and to celebrate living Vietnam veterans. As the crowd began to fill to capacity, my nerves started to grow in magnitude - never had a speaking engagement been so important to me. Before the ceremony, I stood before the 1975 panel on The Wall That Heals. As I saw my reflection staring at me through the names of the C-5A crew members, I felt the pressure and the weight to convey my appreciation. Looking up beyond the individual panel, I was washed into the sea of 58,318 names surrounding me. How could I possibly find the right words to honor these men and women?

As I took my place at the speaker podium, my words and my pace were rushed. I had placed such a monumental weight upon myself to find the right words, the best words to convey my thoughts. With the Wall That Heals behind us, I glanced up and looked into the crowd. I felt the wind whip around me. I took a deep breath and slowed down. Each name on The Wall That Heals provided me with strength. I focused on my one solitary intention – to tell my story and convey my gratitude.

While many of you fought on the grounds of my homeland long before I was born, it does not diminish the importance you play in my life. You were called halfway around the world to serve. I will never fully comprehend the sacrifices you endured during the war. I will never know the tremendous amounts of loss you felt for your fallen brothers and sisters in arms. I will never know what it meant to return to an ungrateful nation that spat on you and turned its back on your service.

I want you to know, I was brought to America where I have led an amazing life of endless opportunities and blessings. I graduated from Virginia Tech with a major in Communication Studies and minors in Psychology and English. I continued my education with Webster University and received my master’s degree in Business. I have worked for the Department of Defense for the past 23 years, and I now work for the same Air Force that initiated Operation Babylift.

Twenty years ago, I met Regina Aune, the medical crew director and survivor of the C-5A crash. As a young lieutenant, she withstood her injuries suffered from the crash and waded through the mud of the rice fields to help survivors to safety. Retiring as an Air Force colonel, she continued to influence Airmen throughout her career. Together Regina and I forged a lifelong connection and bond that helped us both heal from the tragedy of the C-5A crash.

With these opportunities, I met other adoptees and surviving crew members. In addition to Regina, I met retired Chief Master Sgt. Ray Snedegar who was the loadmaster on the C-5A. The three of us travelled back to Vietnam to pay our respects and honor the lives lost in the tragic accident. During our trip we visited young orphans. As we played with these children, laughed and interacted with them, Ray and I forged a heartfelt bond.

I met soldiers who were stationed hundreds of feet away from my orphanage. I travelled the world to meet nuns who helped take care of me in Vinh Long. I even travelled to Malaysia to pay my respects to the nun who chose me for my adoptive parents and died in the C-5A crash.

During this 50th Commemoration of the Vietnam War, I met a Gold Star Daughter for the first time. Her father was killed in action when she was just 3 years old. Her mother persevered through unimaginable loss and resiliently raised three children on her own. My gratitude instantly extended to the family members who were left behind.

As I concluded my speech, my hope was that I honored the names on the wall behind us. I then participated in the pinning ceremony for the Vietnam War Commemoration. These ceremonies recognize, thank and honor the United States military veterans who served during the Vietnam War. It was an emotional moment to place the commemorative pin on Regina. This was a simple gesture and I firmly embraced her. I wanted her to feel the deepest levels of my love for her role in my life. Where words might fail me, I hoped my embrace would speak for itself.

I am writing this letter to thank you. I want you to know there is not a single day I am not grateful for my life. And I am not the only one. There are thousands of Vietnamese adoptees who have flourished with the opportunities we were given and deeply appreciative for the sacrifices so many made for us. Until my final days, I will tell this story to anyone willing to listen and I will live my life in humble gratitude to honor you.

With my lifelong appreciation,
Aryn Lockhart

A REFLECTION ON BASTOGNE

Jan. 20, 2012

1st Place Keith L. Ware Communications Award

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BASTOGNE, Belgium -- I have only a basic knowledge of American history. I would by no means characterize myself as a history buff or even an enthusiast. I sat through class after class learning about the events of our history through textbooks and memorized appropriate dates and events to pass the inevitable test.

Like most Americans, I am distracted by day-to-day events and I take history for granted. Then one day I found myself working and living in Germany. History surrounded me at every pass and it was my first opportunity to see history and not just read it in textbooks.

Recently, I participated in the Bastogne historical walk held in Bastogne, Belgium. The walk commemorates those who fought and lost their lives during the Battle of the Bulge.

The Battle of the Bulge began on Dec. 16, 1944, and is known as Hitler's last offensive of World War II. It was the bloodiest battle of the war, resulting in 89,000 American casualties and 19,000 American deaths and this was just one, single battle.

What most remember about the battle is the well known story about Brig. Gen. Anthony C. MacAuliffe. When the Americans were surrounded by Germans in Bastogne a letter was sent to MacAuliffe demanding the Americans surrender.

MacAuliffe's response was simply "Nuts." MacAuliffe's response would be immortalized in history characterizing the American spirit and our unwillingness to surrender. The memorial weekend is affectionately known as the "Nuts" weekend.

A commemorative walk takes place and participants can choose between distances of 8, 18 or 23 kilometers. Each path cuts through the fields and towns our Soldiers defended. Later in the day a handful of veterans march in a parade and the day ends with nuts being thrown from the balcony of city hall into the crowd.

What I took away most from this experience was an overwhelming sense of pride for my country and for those I was honoring. As the miles and kilometers began to pile, my muscles slowly began to ache. Trudging through thick mud, we were fortunate enough to have fair weather, but as fatigue began to set in, I continued on.

During the four hours I marched, I thought about those that walked these paths before me. I thought about their suffering, their pain, and I continued to place one foot in front of the next. I was honored to pay my respect to these men who fought for our freedom; to walk in their footsteps for several hours and reflect on these men and their sacrifices.

As we passed by a German cemetery, I was also reminded that death doesn't distinguish between nationalities. The solemn cemetery was a reminder a price is paid by all and loved ones are lost on both sides.

I was moved by the diversity of those who marched: American, Belgium, French, German; men, women, children, Soldiers, civilians; young, old and even re-enactors in full uniform and gear. We had one unified purpose: to honor those who had walked these paths before us. It is truly amazing to see how this foreign country pays tribute to our Soldiers and to our country for our role in their liberation 67 years ago.

I would encourage anyone who has the privilege of serving overseas, whether military or civilian, to take part in these moments when history comes alive. This is our history and it's not just words in a textbook. This is a part of who we are and it's worth honoring.