A time to heal

“I’ve been involved with it since the beginning—that’s what it means to me,” says Vietnam War veteran Jerry Cecil. “I’m still out here at 81 years old.” 

Cecil is a director on the board of the Kentucky Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Situated on a hill overlooking the state Capitol, the memorial is a granite plaza made of 327 panels that weigh more than 215 tons. In the memorial’s center, a 14-foot gnomon—the upright portion of a sundial—casts a shadow across the engraved names of the 1,109 Kentucky veterans who died in the Vietnam War.

Dedicated in 1988, it’s one of the largest granite memorials in the nation. The design by Lexington architect and veteran Helm Roberts is precisely engineered so that the gnomon’s shadow touches veterans’ names on the date of their death. 

On October 22, the shadow pointed out the name of Frank Dunford, a soldier from Cecil’s platoon who died in an ambush in Phu Bon province in 1967. Cecil visits the memorial yearly on the anniversary of Dunford’s death. If the sun’s out, he takes a picture of Dunford’s name and sends it to friends who knew him.

On November 11 at 11:11 a.m., the shadow will touch an unassuming notch in the granite that marks Veterans Day. It was also the day, in 1967, when Cecil was wounded during the Battle of Dak To. He was later awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for racing “through a hail of bullets” to carry wounded soldiers to safety. But Cecil doesn’t talk about himself. He’s there to remember.

“This is about respect, remembrance and reverence,” Cecil says. “… You’re never forgotten, as long as someone’s still saying your name. And that’s what we’re doing here every day.”