Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 +----------------------------------------------------------------+ | NN NN AAAA MM MM VV VV EEEEEEE TTTTTTTT | | NNN NN AA AA MMM MMM VV VV EE TT | | NN N NN AA AA MM M M MM VV VV EE TT | | NN N NN AA AA MM M MM VV VV EE TT | | NN N NN AAAAAAAA MM MM VV VV EEEEE TT | | NN N NN AA AA MM MM VV VV EE TT | | NN NNN AA AA MM MM V V EE TT | | NN NN AA AA MM MM VVV EEEEEEE TT | | The International Newsletter for Vietnam Veterans | | | +----------------------------------------------------------------+ DATA NUMBER Editor in Chief: Todd Looney Viet Vets Valhalla Managing Editor: G. Joseph Peck VETLink #1 (413) 443-6313 Distribution Manager: Bob Morris Pole Climber 2 (203) 287-4085 NAM VET's PAPERBOY: Jerry Hindle 7:48/0 --- Section Editors --- PTSD: Kathleen Kelly, Ph.D. NY Transfer (718) 448-2358 AGENT ORANGE: Martin Kroll Ft Mountain BBS (404) 695-8703 MIA-POW: Glenn Toothman Commo Bunker TX 1:387/801 VA INFO: Jim Hildwine ZEPHYR BBS (703) 620-5418 HOMELESS: Lefty Frizzell Executive B'rdroom 1:106/449 INCARCERATED VETS: Todd Looney Viet Vets Valhalla WOMEN VETS: MEMORIES: G. Joseph Peck VETLink #1 (413) 443-6313 | )| NAM VET is a special _+|__|_ electronic newsletter dedicated to * VIETNAM |--- --| VETERANS * around the world and ------------------------=========================== provided as a \_______________________________________________)free service to participants ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ in the International Vietnam Veterans EchoConference (IVVEC) available on many bulletin boards throughout the United States, Europe, Canada, and Australia. _ Not all of the articles appearing in here | are written by participants in the IVVEC, but NAM VET | is very much an electronic newsletter by, of -----/_\----- and for Vietnam veterans, their -O==============< : >==============O- friends, wives, and lovers. ( ) (...) ( ) The newsletter is comprised of articles and items from individuals and other sources. | We are not responsible | for the content of this information nor are any of NAM VET's |____====________ contributor's or Section Editors ||__________}____)==================|) =============---------------------===_____ /| | | | |\\ \________|__________|_________|_________|/ \\(O)___(O)___(O)___(O)___(O)___(O)// Duplication in any form permitted for noncommercial purposes only. For other use, contact: Todd Looney at (408) 947-7668 G. Joseph Peck at (413) 442-1660 ================================================================= T A B L E O F C O N T E N T S 1. EDITORIALS louds, Rainbows and Prisms .............................. 1 VETERANS, SPEAK OUT AND BE HEARD! ....................... 4 A Soldier Known But to God" ............................. 6 You Bet Your Sweet Bippy I am!! ......................... 8 2. Missing!!! Two Kinds of American Hero .............................. 10 They haven't forgutten US!!! ............................ 12 3. Touchin' Where We Live Dear Dad ................................................ 13 Mommy, Did You Kill Anybody In The War? ................. 16 The Silent Shot - A Remembrance ......................... 17 Not On This Wall ........................................ 23 Ho Chang ................................................ 27 Yahrzeit '88 ............................................ 30 Why Do We Feel So Guilty? ............................... 33 The Other Forgotten Warriors ............................ 36 And I waited... ......................................... 40 Two Walls ............................................... 43 4. Our Flag!!! Stars and Stripes! ...................................... 46 War ..................................................... 58 The "OLD GLORY" Story ................................... 59 A Different Battlefield ................................. 61 Homecoming III .......................................... 63 5. Veterans' Benefits Veterans' Appeals Court Seeks Home ...................... 64 6. Agent Orange Are You listening, President Bush? ...................... 67 Let Me Tell You Where I've Been I ....................... 70 7. Remember Them!!! Viet Vets In The Justice System ......................... 74 A visit or note once in awhile? ......................... 78 HOMELESS ................................................ 79 8. In The Silent Times The Silent Warrior ...................................... 82 Brother Rat's Gourmet Cooking ........................... 84 The Boonie Rat Song!!! .................................. 89 9. On The Lite Side Murphy's Laws of Combat Operations ...................... 91 Sermon from Mount Dong Quang ............................ 93 10. Guide To IVVEC Articles ........................................................ 94 Familiar? ............................................... 95 NamVet 1- 01, 1-02 ...................................... 96 NamVet 2-01, 2-02 ....................................... 97 NamVet 2-03, 2-04, 2-05 ................................. 98 NamVet 2-06, 2-07 ....................................... 100 NamVet 2-08, 2-09, 2-10 ................................. 101 NamVet 2-11, 1st Anniversary Issue ...................... 102 NamVet 2-12, 3-01, 3-02 ................................. 103 NamVet 3-03, 3-04, 3-05 ................................. 104 NamVet 3-06, 3-07, 3-08 ................................. 105 NamVet 3-9, 3-10 ........................................ 106 NamVet 3-11 ............................................. 107 Some Gave All... ........................................ 108 NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page i Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= E D I T O R I A L S ================================================================= Clouds, Rainbows... and Prisms by G. Joseph Peck NAM VETs Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 Well, the deadline is fast approaching when, no matter WHAT or HOW I feel about not receiving Todd's editorial, this Second Anniversary Issue of NAM VET --MUST-- go to press. Step by painful step I'm coming to learn how many of YOU must have felt when it was time to be pulled from an AO and you knew some of your troops were still scrambling to reach rendezvous and exit point. Alone, in a sense, I prepare this issue KNOWING that m' brother TRIED... and just didn't quite make it. When Todd and I published the first NAM VET on 11/11/87, I don't believe either of us realized the good that a simple ol' electronic newsletter could accomplish - both for ourselves and for our brother and sister veterans around the world. We've heard about it from fellow veterans, seen it written about in newspapers and magazines, and viewed the dogeared copies lying around in our Vet Centers and veteran organizations. We've also seen NAM VET circulation rapidly grow from its tiny beginnings to what is now near-world-wide distribution. That tells US that we must be putting together at least some of the things you, our readers, want to read - that what we're trying to do for each of you fills a need. 'Round about last May, some legal troubles came Todd's way that mandated he sell his computer and shut down the Vietnam Veterans' Valhalla. In order to continue the "mission" of NAM VET, it quickly became clear to me that the responsibility for carrying on should fall upon one of the founding fathers - me ... and, with a persistence and determination similar to that which sustained me during my 18-1/2 year arduous battle with the VA and other bureaucracies, I have tried to do the best job I could of producing what YOU have requested and/or submitted for all of us to read... I'd like to take THIS opportunity to thank each and every one of you - Section Editors, contributors, those who download the NAM VET, and those who share it - for all that producing NAM VET has taught ME... about the ambush in Happy Valley; about the lonely widow with 3 children who lost her husband to Agent Orange; about the homeless and incarcerated veteran; about our Missing In Action - Prisoners Of War (MIA/POW); and, most importantly, about trying to walk where YOU have walked. I've found part of me in almost every one of you and, ya know, I don't feel so alone anymore! Like so many of you, before I entered the service I was pretty confident that Life was orderly and predictable and that my future would be more or less under MY control. I really and truly believed I WAS a good and worthwhile person and that MY efforts COULD make a difference. > Although I didn't get to the 'Nam, it NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 1 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 seems like the military and American society did for me what it did for many of you when they discharged me with a "label" as the unit I was assigned to (69th Sig Bn) was split and went to 'Nam and to Germany. I often wonder how many of those I served with made it back - and I often, too, feel guilty 'cause I wasn't there WITH them to do the job I was trained to do. (I've found two of 'em who came back... one works for a national news network in New York City; the other, after experiencing all kinds of unexplainable illnesses and weight loss, went to California to spend what were possibly his last days in warmth and sunshine instead of the bitter cold of the Northern U.S.) After my military service, like so many of you, I tried to feel proud of my efforts for this country - but it was hollow and had no meaning when I KNEW, except for my pre-accident performance of my duties, that I had done really nothing to be proud of. I soon learned that if I wanted a decent job, I should NOT mention my military service. I'm a determined cuss, though: a veteran and damned proud of it! Needless to say, with my service-incurred disabilities which the VA refused to recognize coupled with the general public reaction I encountered, there wasn't much I could find other than apprentice-type or menial labor positions. Following the lead that so many of you have provided - or leaving footprints that others may easily follow, claims were presented to the VA only to be denied or seen as confirmation that an erroneous military diagnosis was correct. I couldn't afford private physicians, therapists or counselors and I either had to find a way to deal with it myself or let it overwhelm me. Yup... we've been under a very similar cloud. But then one day I saw a rainbow... and followed it. A newspaper reporter, writing about my struggles with the Small Business Administration, called me a "service-connected disabled Vietnam vet" ... and I began to look deeper into some problems that all - ESPECIALLY Vietnam veterans - might be having at that time (1976). The rainbow, with its multiple colors and differing shades of light it shed on things, pointed me towards Massachusetts a few years later and steered towards the 1983 CompuServe Identity of "Vetlink - The Point Man" and then to the 1987 creation of VETLink #1. Eight months later, after constant and continued involvement in the IVVEC and just about the time I was beginning to find HOPE again, a faraway candle flickered as Todd asked that I join with him in creating NAM VET for all of us. For me - NAM VET has really kept the lights near-bright and has constantly reminded me of the kinship we all share! And, speaking of "kinship," let's not forget Todd. He's had problems, like many of us, prior to his most recent difficulty. He's mentioned to me that he's not proud of what's happened, and I can understand that. I can also understand confidentiality and allegiance and loyalty and acceptance. Todd and every one of you have taught me in a much better way that I was ever shown prior to IVVEC and NAM VET. There's a "cloud" in HIS life right now and sometimes I wonder whether or not my internal guidance system of "not abandoning a NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 2 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 brother/sister - or leaving someone behind" might be more harmful than good for Todd. It is "I" who had the police check on his and Nancy's well-being when I received no answer from their telephone for four or five straight days; It is "I" who constantly hounded him and asked that he US Snail me his editorial until we found a way to get the Valhalla back off-the-ground; it is "I" who have constantly tried to pull him back into something he seemed to care very deeply about. Maybe I should have just let him go - but, to me, he's a brother veteran who's shared some very important and insightful things with us all, and I have a real problem with that. It is also "I" who believe that we who contribute to NAM VET and the IVVEC can see the iris of the clouds, can restore hope for at least one when all the world once seems lost - through our words and efforts and prayers, can see another person's actions illuminated in the light of fraternal understanding and concern... And it is "I" who can see clouds and rainbows and prisms and KNOW that it is nature's way of saying: "Thank You, Vietnam Veterans - it DOES mean sumpin'!" 'Til our next issue Show a brother or sister veteran That YOU care!!! Ci'ao for Ni'ao -Joe- NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 3 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 VETERANS, SPEAK OUT AND BE HEARD! By: Martin H. Kroll NAM VETs Agent Orange Section Editor Fort Mountain BBS Chatsworth, GA (404) 695-8703 As another Veteran's Day draws near there are many things on my mind. One of them is the fact that Veteran's Day this year is on a Saturday. I have always wondered why we have a Veteran's Day that allows Government workers and bank employees a paid holiday when most of the Veterans themselves end up having to work unless they are employed by a bank or the Government. It just doesn't seem fair does it? Oh well, this is just a small trifle compared to some of the other things that bother me. One of the "biggies" that stays on my mind is that I am thoroughly disgusted with the way the Government has handled the Agent Orange issue and shortchanged the Viet Nam Veterans. This is what has prompted me to write a letter to President George Bush seeking his assistance in helping Veterans that may have been exposed to Agent Orange. You see, although I feel that "radicalism" may have it's place in many circumstances, I don't think that this issue is ready for that approach. I read a statistic just the other day that pointed out the fact that one out of every six home mortgages in this country are backed by the Veterans Administration. Since you have to be a Veteran to get VA backing of a home loan, it is obvious just how large a portion of the population is comprised of Veterans. Theoretically, if you talk to just five non veterans we can reach the vast majority of our voting population. It is very plain that if all Veterans agree on just a few issues we can hit them where it really hurts them. Congress is again seeking a pay raise that will increase their pay from $85,000 per year to $127,000 per year. I think that this is obscene when you consider the way they have done their foot dragging on the Agent Orange issue. Then too, the amount of their requested pay raise is more than most Veterans even earn in a year's time. Congress found out the last time around that the people can speak in force and they proved that yes, the almighty Congress listens to the people, at least for the time being. Do you see what I am getting at? If all veterans united and spoke out on any one issue, then there would be sufficient numbers to force Congress and the Government to do what ever we reasonably requested. We can do that and it is imperative that we do. Veterans that were exposed to Agent Orange are running out of time. They are now middle aged and many are dying from cancer and afflicted with other ills due to their service in Viet Nam. They need medical care now while there is still a chance that something can be done to help them. After the fact settlements to survivors twenty years from now will not help the Veterans. Now if Congress was doing their jobs as they should I don't think many Veterans would have any objection to giving them a reasonable pay raise. After all, we are the ones that have that power and authority in the final analysis. It is a shame that Viet Nam Veterans have been treated the way they have when it comes to the Agent Orange issue. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 4 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Now I have no idea if my letter to President Bush will get any results but I do know that united we can get what we want. I am asking each and every one of you reading this to join in and help the cause. Don't agree or disagree with me, just pitch in to help. You have my permission to publish this article and my letter to President Bush in any publication, as long as they are both published together and remain in the original unedited form. We should tell Congress that so long as they continue to drag their feet on the Agent Orange issue we will "JUST SAY NO" when it comes time to approve their pay raises and again when it comes time to go back to the voting polls. That's the ticket folks.....hit em where it really hurts! Here is what I am asking you to do. First, make several copies (at least 10) and have your friends and neighbors sign 2 of them. Second, send one copy to your Congressman and the other to the White House. This won't cost you much at all. This course of action should create a virtual flood of letters of support for immediate action on the Agent Orange issue. The trick is though, you have to DO IT NOW....Go ahead and start printing as soon as you are finished reading this article! Third, please attempt to get this article and my letter to President Bush published in your local newspaper or any newsletter or magazine that you can. This is very important! The more people that we can get this to, the more support we will get. If you are reading this in a newspaper or elsewhere, please tear this article out, sign it, and send it to your Congressman. While you are at it, photocopy several for your friends to do the same. We can do it folks! Don't do this for me, do it for yourselves and your brother and sister Veterans. After all, were it not for our Veterans you could very well now be living under communist or dictatorial rule. If it were not for our Veterans you could very well be living in poverty. It does no good to gripe about what our Government owes us when we fail to help ourselves. Let's make this a Veteran's Day to be remembered for years to come. Let's make this a Veteran's Day that started a flood of support that showed Congress and the Government just where we stand and that yes.....We do know how to hurt them in the worst way. We do not have to resort to violence or radicalism to get what is rightfully ours, but rather "we can and will" resort to the good old American way and work within the system. So in leaving you, I urge you one more time......DO IT NOW! NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 5 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 "A Soldier Known But to God" By: Jim Hildwine NAM VET's Federal Benefits Editor Washington Zephyr BBS (703) 620-5418 In 1921, an American Soldier - his name "known but to God" - was buried on a Virginia hillside overlooking the Potomac River and the city of Washington. The Arlington National Cemetery burial site of this unknown World War I soldier became the personi- fication of dignity and reverence for America's veterans. Ceremonies occurred earlier in England and France, where an "Unknown Soldier" was buried in each nation's highest place of honor (in England, Westminster Abbyey; in France, the Arc De Triomphe). These memorial gestures all took place on November 11 at 11 a.m., November 11, 1918 (the 11th hours of the 11th day of the 11th month). The day became know as "Armistice Day." Armistice day officially received its name in America in 1926 through a Congressional resolution. It became a national holiday 12 years later by similar congressional action. If the idealistic hope had been realized that World War I was "The War to end all Wars," November 11 might still be called Armistice Day. But shortly after the hoilday was proclaimed, World War II broke out in Europe and shattered the dream. Sixteen-and-a-half million Americans took part. Four hundred and six thousand died. The families and friends of these dead longed for a way to honor their memory. "To Honor Veterans of All Wars" An answer to the delemma of how to pay tribute to those who had served in this latest, great war came in a proposal made by Repesentiative Edwin K. Rees of Kansas: Change Armistice Day to Veterans Day, and make this an occasion to honor those who have served America in all Wars. President Eisenhower, in 1954, signed the bill proclaiming November 11 as Veterans Day, and he called for Americans everywhere to rededicate themselves to the cause of peace. On May 30, 1958, two more unidentified American war dead were brought to Arlington Cemetery from overseas and interred in the plaza beside their Comrade of World War I. One was killed in World War II, the other in Korea. A law passed in 1973 provided for the interment of an unknown American who lost life in Southeast Asia during the Vietnam era. For several years no qualifiying remains were discovered so a memorial plaque was placed in the Amphitheater's Memorial Display Room. On Memorial Day 1984, however, the Unknown Serviceman from that conflict was placed "In Honored Glory" alongside his fellow countrymen. To honor these men, symbolic of all Americans who gave their lives in all wars, an Army honor guard, the 3d United States NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 6 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Infantry (The Old Guard) keeps day and night vigil at the tombsite. "Date Too Significant to Change" A law passed in 1968 changed the national commemoration of Veterans Day to the fouth Monday in October. It soon became apparent, however that November 11 was a matter of historic and patrotic significance to a great number of our citizens. Congress, therefore, enacted legislation (Public Law 94-97) which returned the observance of this speical day to its traditional date beginning in 1978. "Once belonged to Robert E. Lee" The focal point for ceremonies conducted by the Veterans Day National Committee continues to be the Arlington Memorial Amphitheather built around the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington National Cemetery. The site, established in 1864 is now operated by the Department of Defense, lies on property that once belonged to General Robert E. Lee. At 11am on Veterans Day a combined color guard reresenting all military services honors the UNKNOWNS by executing "present Arms" at the Tomb. The Nation's tribute to its war dead is symbolized by the laying of a Presidental wreath. The bugler sounds "Taps." The balance of the ceremony, which includes a brief address, takes place at the Amphitheater. Veterans Day ceremonies at Arlington and elsewhere in the Nation are coordinated by the President's Veterans Day National Committee. Chaired by the Secretary, Department of Veterans Affairs, the group has an executive committee which includes representatives of eighteen national veterans organizations chartered by Congress. The remaining members represent other national veterans' service associations. (Taken from the Veterans Day Guide provide by the Dept Vet Affairs) NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 7 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 YOU BET YOUR SWEET BIPPY I AM! Input by: G. Joseph Peck NAM VET's Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 The following letter appeared in the April, 1989 edition of THE VETERAN - a publication of Vietnam Veterans of America: Dear Editor... In the January 1989 VETERAN, Kenneth R. Fuhrmann wrote a letter that clearly expresses the feeling shared by probably over 90 percent of Vietnam veterans. Being a proud Vietnam veteran is something we can all feel WITHOUT having to feel guilt, or suffering from PTSD, or going into fits of rage, or being divorced (and blaming it on our Vietnam experience), or hating the VA, or being unemployed, or incarcerated, or homeless. All of these are true for some Vietnam veterans. But there are many MORE of us who have been able to cope with our traumatic combat experiences and who are active, contributing American citizens, husbands, fathers, and members of our communities. Truthfully, many of us are very tired of the image of the Vietnam veteran as a homeless, alcoholic, wife-beating "Rambo." Most of us went to Vietnam as proud Americans, served as proud Americans, returned "home" as proud Americans, and today are no less proud than we ever were. One reason so many Vietnam veterans would not (and many still will not) admit they served in Vietnam might be because they did not (and do not) WANT to be associated with an image that does not fit them. They are no less proud than anyone else who served, and it makes me ill that they are often not accepted as "real" Vietnam veterans simply because they have chosen to dress in neat clothes, do not drink alcohol or talk about war memories that still hurt, are not tall and slim anymore, or fit into anybody's mold of how they should act or be. They went to war as individuals who were not going to let their agemates fight, and bleed, and die alone. They are Vietnam veterans in the finest tradition, and their quest for individuality has never changed. Most people would not guess that I am a Vietnam veteran. I am not tall, and I still can put on the same uniform I wore when I was commissioned at the age of 19. No, I was not there very long, three months and 21 days in all, but I spent over three of the next five years in the hospital "being fixed up." I am retired, and I am rated 100 percent disabled because of my wounds. My little brother was killed in Vietnam with four or five of his men in May 1970, and my father spent four tours in Vietnam. Am I a proud Vietnam veteran? You bet your sweet bippy I am. Vietnam was a million-dollar experience I would not pay a nickel to repeat, but I think about it 20 or 30 times a day. I remember my tour in Vietnam with pride and honor, not with guilt and shame. Nobody likes war, and I wish there never was a Vietnam WAR, but there was, and I hold my head high in honor of my friends who gave their lives so other soldiers could live. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 8 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 A couple of years ago, I read that one out of four helicopter pilots did not survive. I am proud to have served with these men and the 58,000 who gave their lives so bravely. Like Kenneth Fuhrmann said, let's have more articles about the Vietnam veteran who has "regrouped" and has been able to fit back into the community. James P. Meade, Jr., Ph.D. San Diego, California NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 9 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= M i s s i n g ! ! ! ================================================================= Two Kinds of American Hero From: The Wall Street Journal July 5, 1989 By: Stephen T. Banko, III Decorated Vietnam veteran from Buffalo, New York As reprinted in VVA 351's 8/89 Chapter Newsletter Input by: G. Joseph Peck NAM VETs Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 The final democracy of death has provided 2 departed souls with eternal equality in recent months. One was the world's oldest Yippie, Abbie Hoffman. The other was Col. James Nicholas Rowe, who spent five years in a North Vietnamese prison camp. Mr. Hoffman died by his own hand and attracted a ream of newsprint attention and miles of videotaped eulogies on television stations across the country. The media's fascination with Mr. Hoffman was a result, no doubt, of Mr. Hoffman's fascination with the media. And when he died of a drug overdose earlier this year, he was recalled by Mike Royko of the Chicago Tribune as a loveable guy, something akin to a playful puppy who is nice to pet but still does dirt on your best Oriental rug. Mr. Royko said that Mr. Hoffman was just having a little fun with America, just joshing and tweaking the country's collective nose with his outrageous behavior. Mr. Royko said the nation would sorely miss Abbie. But now every nose in America in those crazy days needed tweaking. A lot of 17, 18 and 19 year old noses needed wiping and other Americans went to Vietnam to take care of that chore. One of them was Col. Rowe. In pre-60's America, Col. Rowe might have been considered a hero. He graduated from West Point, became one of the nation's elite Special Forces and went to Vietnam as an adviser in 1963. He was in Vietnam for 3 months when he was captured by the Viet Cong after a ferocious firefight. He spent the next 5 years i prison camps, coping with starvation, disease, torture and thirst - 23 of those months in complete isolation in a box with a 21-inch screen, Col. Rowe was confined in a bamboo cage, three feet by four feet by six feet. Delicacies were the meat he could capture in the form of rats and snakes that ventured too close to his cage. Three of his comrades died of starvation while in captivity. But worse than the physical isolation of the prison routine was the emotional isolation inflicted by Col. Rowe's captors. They showed him newspaper photographs of teenagers burning the American flag in the shadow of the Washington Monument and NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 10 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 college campuses sporting the flag of the Viet Cong. He escaped three times, only to be recaptured. After each failed attempt, he was severely beaten in retribution. Finally, on his way to his own execution on New Years Eve, 1968, Col. Rowe escaped when the execution detail was surprised by a flight of American helicopters. Nick Rowe was an intense, soft-spoken man of firm convictions. None of those convictions were stronger than his love of his country. His years of captivity and deprivation had not robbed him of his sense of humor. In 1983, speaking at a Vietnam veterans luncheon in Buffalo, NY, Col. Rowe was served rice. "Could I speak with the man responsible for today's menu?" he asked, flashing his Texas grin. "I want to know if he worked a POW camp in Phuoc Long." Col. Rowe's speech that day never made the nightly news. Perhaps it was his subject matter. For he spoke not of hate of war or killing, but of love: love of his country, love of God, and love of his comrades-in-arms. He spoke in hushed tones about suffering and the price of his love. He spoke with a deep conviction and quiet confidence that radiated through the packed room. Anyone there that day in 1983 knew he was in the company of a true hero; not the comic book, hyperbolized heroism of Rambo and Norris and Schwartzenegger, but heroism in the tradition of real people with real feelings and real courage. On April 21, the Philippine communists did what Vietnamese communists had been unable to do: They killed Nick Rowe, assassinating him as he drove to work, still on active duty. Abby Hoffman and Nick Rowe, two men on two different paths; one to fame and fortune and the other to duty and sacrifice. One death stylized in print and videotape, the other death commemorated by the mournful notes of "Taps" at Arlington National Cemetery. It's strange how we pick our heroes. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 11 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 W W M M W W M M M M W W \ / M M M M OOOO W W W --*-- M M M IIII O O W W W W / \ M M II O O W W W W M M II O O W W M M II O O II PPPPPP O O ..... II AA PP PP OOOO . '' '' .. IIII A A PP PP ..' '.. A A PPPPPPP ..' ''. A A PP ..' '. AAAAAA PP .' ''. A A PP .' '. A A .' .:::::.. '. .' .::::::::::. ' .' .::::::::::::::. '. .' __ .::::::::::::::::;:... '. .' _- -_ .:::::::::::::::::::::::. '. .' _-_ _ _ -_ ::::::::::::::::::::::::' '. .. _- -!!___!!!-_:::::::::::::::::::::::. .. .' ==_ _- _= .:::::::::::::::::::::::: ', . =-_= _= = :::::::::::::::::::::::: . .' =-_ =_- = ::::::::::::::::::::::: '. .' = - -_ =_:::::::::::::::::::::. '. .' -_ -_- .:::::::::::::::::::;;;. '. .' _-_ ..::::::::::::::::::::::::; '. . _ _ .:;:::::::::::::::::::::;, . ' _ .:::::::::::::::::::::::::. '. Y .'.....::::::::::::::::::::::::::;' '. N ::::::::::::::::::::::::' `''' ': O `::::::::::::::::::::::: \v/ \ / :'E `:::::::::::::::::::::: =========================== :' U `:::::::::::::::::::::. /^\ \ :'T `:::::::::::::::::::: .: A `:::::::::::::::::: .:'T `::::::::::::::::::. .;' R `:::::::::::::::::. .;' T `::::::::::::::::. .;' E `:::::::::gjp::: .:' O `:::::::::::::...........'' G N O T F O R " Bring them home --- NOW !!! " NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 12 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= T o u c h i n ' W h e r e W e L i v e ================================================================= Dear Dad by: Lindy Harris Friends BBS Omaha, NE (402) 896-2669 Dear Dad, It's that time of year again when we all think of you and miss you so much. Holidays of any sort should be happy, but there is one holiday that tears my heart to pieces and it isn't one of our national holidays. The Celebration of TET is one of sorrow and grief for us. I was only 6 years old when you left for Vietnam, and 10 when it dawned on me that you wouldn't be coming back, I felt so lost and abandoned. Mom took things pretty hard, and Chet and I had to sort of take over things for awhile. Mom is okay, and as I've grown up I've come to understand that it was her that had the tough time to begin with. Chet's and mine came later when we understood what death meant. We are all okay, until TET comes around and then we all go into a spin. We finally made the trip to The Wall, and seeing your name there gave me a feeling of having known you much longer than I did. I saw the other names that were there on the day you died, so I know you weren't alone. I can only pray that you did not suffer, and that you've found the peace you fought for. We wanted to leave a letter at The Wall, but all we could do was do was cry. What's The Wall, you ask? It's the most beautiful and yet the saddest monument that has ever existed. The war in Vietnam was so dark and tragic, and the monument, nay,the Memorial which every NamVet calls "The Wall," is also dark and tragic. It's a black slash in the earth made of black marble that carries the names of all the men and women Killed In Action. When we walked, stopped, cried and cried and went on to the next panel, there were more tears. A man walked up to us and asked if there was a name on the wall that belonged to us. We told him yes, and when he found out you were a Marine and the outfit you were with, he asked us to wait about an hour while he looked up a buddy that might have known you. His buddy arrived and although he couldn't remember you specifically, he told us what it was like and how we had WON the Tet Offensive! Each of us have mourned your death in our own way and it took awhile to get our lives to settle down to a modest roar at all the injustices that went on during the years of the Vietnam War era. Things are looking up for all of us now, and I'd like to tell you about everything that's happened to us, but I'll try to be brief, at least this time. Chet? Well, I think you would be very proud of your son. He graduated last year form M.I.T., and will be joining the Marines as soon as he has his bills paid. (He owes Mom a bundle!) I don't think it will take too long. Mom says he has one of your questionable traits of character, he is either NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 13 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 going full bore for something or other he wants badly, almost a workaholic, and won't quit until it's perfect, or he sits on his duff "thinking". I don't have time to sit for very long, but I wish a bit of the drive he inherited from you had rubbed off on me. Mom remarried last April, and Don is a fine man. Mom is happy and he treats all of us wonderfully. And he is one heck of a fisherman, which I thought you might like to know. Me? It's a difficult thing to try and tell you what's going on in my life. I met, fell in love with a man that was sort of like what I remembered about you, and married him. I kept comparing him with what little I remembered about you, and what Chet and mom told me over the years, and it's pointless to say he wasn't a bit like you. When we both discovered what the problem was, we ended a miserable marriage. We have been friendly most of the time, and share equal custody of our two beautiful children. How I would love to have you see them, even though I can't quite see you as a grandfather. You were my dad, and I still have my childs vision of you. Our kids know a lot about you, since we drag out all the movies, photos and tapes you sent to us from Vietnam, plus the movies the whole family were in while you were with us. We do that at least once a year when we manage to get the whole Corps in the same city and house. We've all been watching Tour of Duty, which is a television program that is trying to tell us what it was like in Vietnam, and though it's a dramatization, most of the NamVets I've talked to says it comes close. It's a great deal different than the war we saw on the nightly news on television. It's frightening to get a glimpse of what happened over there to you and your buddies. We have tried to understand what happened to us as a Nation during the 60's and 70's, but I think you would like to know that America has finally got it's act together and is recognizing that the War in Vietnam that took you and thousands of others from us, is finally over and that the healing is taking place. I'm back in school again, after putting my dreams on hold while I tried and failed to be mother, wife and wage earner. Making ends meet isn't the easiest thing to do, but I'm in the upper 10% of my class and I'll be getting my degree and graduate in June. Mom and Don help with the children, and it's amazing how things have fallen into place at last. All of us have futures, and tend not to dwell in the past quite so much. I seem to be rambling a bit, but I was just sitting here thinking of the things I have wished you could have seen me do over the years. First date, turning 16, being an absolute flop in a high school play, buying my first car with my own money, getting married, having my babies, oh how I wished you were here for all the celebrations of life. I've wanted to say all these things before, but didn't know where to send them until I found the International Vietnam Veterans Echo. If the Echo is loud enough, I'm sure you will NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 14 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 hear me. Love, Your daughter, Lindy. P.S. Mom used to let me put S.W.A.K. on the backs of all the letters she sent. Do you think I could do that here too? I thought so. S W A K NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 15 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Mommy, Did You Kill Anybody in the War? By Norma Boris Friends BBS Omaha, NE (402) 896-2669 As I read my January '84 issue of the VVA Veteran, my 6-month old son sleeps soundly in his room. The articles are tingling, unnerving. Particularly unnerving is one on the last page. I read about a man who carried a gun, who was face to face with the enemy, and who killed. I shudder as I contemplate the day my son asks me the question above. After all, I'm mommy, not daddy. It makes me think. Least painfully I think of the time limit we imposed on the Vietnamese patients with "no hope" of improvement. Our doctors, knowing their litters would be left on the dust-off pad at the ARVN hospital, wanted them kept in our Casualty Receiving. We wanted them transferred to simply die elsewhere. Sure as hell, they died. Before a twelve hour limit was imposed, there were patients who just stayed until they stopped breathing - sometimes that was days. The memories of those patients are more painful. After a while I didn't suction so often, finally not at all. I sat there as they breathed more and more irregularly, less and less frequently. The died too - finally, taking just a little of me with them. Then there are the most painful. They are of the ones I told, "I'll be right back..." Even when I was, it wasn't soon enough for them. Their staring eyes were round, their skin American, no matter what color. Last, there are the memories that I do not yet allow entrance into my consciousness. They are the memories of the children. I never knew that tiny, slanted eyes could open SO wide and that children in such pain could be SO quiet. I still handle them in my nightmares. So, son, what do I tell you when you ask, "Mommy, did you kill anybody in the war?" I have a few years, a few years to hope the history books do NOT add the information that women went ... and that women killed. I have a few years to practice my "pat" answers and to hope, against hope, that you never hear the word "Vietnam". "Mommy, did you kill anybody in the war?" Oh my God... yes... Norma Boris served at the 67th Evac in Qui Nhon 1969-70. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 16 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 The Silent Shot: A Remembrance by a Vietnam Veteran's Wife Input by: Kathleen Kelly, Ph.d. NAM VET's PTSD Section Editor The NY Transfer BBS FidoNet 1:13/1033 (718) 448-2358 from: THE VETERAN, Vol. 18, Nos.1&2, pp.8-10, Winter 1989 - a Publication of the Vietnam Veterans Against the War (VVAW). National Office: PO Box 408594, Chicago, IL 60640 (312) 327-5756. "As I held his body in my arms," he said softly, "he just looked me in the eye, and told me he never heard the shot, the one that hit him. I guess you never do... hear the one that gets you." All the while he spoke to me, his look was distant. As distant as Vietnam. This was just one of his many memories, some of them unbelievable, all of them horrifying. I never say much during these painful recollections. What do you say? What CAN you say? Don't worry about those children you killed over there? Like the one that dropped a grenade in the gas tank of your truck as you drove past, or the cartload of villagers you and your men wiped out because you had a suspicion that some were Viet Cong. Or the old man sitting atop a water buffalo whom you used for target practice. I know you still have nightmares about that one, except it's you instead of the old man. The list goes on and on. And so does the war. Inside of him, and me. It's part of my life too, now. A part I'd just as soon forget, but one I can't ignore. He's tired of fighting and I'm tired of losing -- losing to an enemy I cannot see. Though not in material form, I know he's there. Much like the one he fought eighteen years ago, which to him seems like yesterday, every day. I know what goes through his mind now when he sees little children, or oriental people, or hears a helicopter. Do you smell the napalm, Joe, or the mud you had to lie in for days at a time? Or the dead bodies lying around that are later thrown in a pile to be burned, or to used as human sacks of sand to protect the men in the trenches? I already know where he's at. I only wonder what scene in this never-ending film he's recalling. He hasn't come home yet. I don't know that he ever will. "It's time to feed the dog," I told him in an effort to bring him out of his trance. "Alright...I'll feed him," he replied slowly, as he came back to America. How long will you stay this time, Joe? I wondered to myself. He walked over to the kennel to let the dog out before feeding him. Luke started his usual jumping and ground-stomping, his regular ritual whenever either of us walked up to his kennel. As Joe opened the lock and lifted the latch, he gave the dog a stern "stay" command. But Luke, being the strong-willed and energetic Chesapeake that he is, darted past, raced down to the end of the yard and back up again, all the while Joe calling his name, yelling "Come!" and trying to catch him. I realized as I watched that Luke was going to get a harsh correction, although he wasn't the one whom Joe was really angry with. "I told you to COME!" he shouted as the dog grovelled up to him. He grabbed Luke by the scruff of the neck and dragged his NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 17 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 75-pound body back to the kennel door. Luke let out a loud yelp as Joe threw him as best he could into the kennel. As he closed the latch he look at me. He could tell I was hurt. He knew as well as I that Luke didn't deserve that harsh correction, and I can't stand to see Joe take his frustrations out on him. Luke doesn't know about Vietnam. But he does know he has run out of the kennel before, only to receive praise because he did come back and not take off. "I don't think that was necessary," I told him. "I do. He's lucky I didn't choke him." He looked as if he were ready to. "Why do you think we spend time in obedience classes? He knows better." "I think you overreacted," I said. Something he does a lot of these days, but has little control over. "Hey -- I didn't hurt him. I've done worse things in my life." I gave up the argument. I knew it was useless. I also knew, when he had time to calm down, he would regret his actions and hate himself more. As I turned and walked into the house, I thought back on our eight-year relationship. When I first met him, I thought the 14 years between our ages would be a lot to contend with, but that never became a problem. Vietnam did, although I didn't know it at first. He never talked about it. I knew he had been there, but I didn't know much about it. I did have a feeling something was wrong, but I had blamed his sudden mood swings on myself, the only justification I could find. Now I know better, or should I say worse. Neither of us ate dinner that evening, a common occurrence. His loss of appetite was due to stomach pains the doctors call a "spasmodic colon," the result of his bad nerves and/or Agent Orange contamination. My loss of appetite was caused by anxiety over that knowledge. When he first spoke of the chemical Agent Orange, he explained it was a defoliant that had been sprayed to kill existing vegetation in order to leave their enemy fewer places to hide. I was appalled to know the government never admitted for years its adverse health effects. Joe said it had been everywhere, in their food and in their water. They breathed it and lived in it. And knowing the deliberate denial only contributed to the decline in his patriotism, his mistrust in the government, and added fuel to his internal fire. And my own. His mother called later that evening to see if we were coming over for a visit. It was my duty to answer the phone because of his hatred of dealing with people, even family, making it difficult for us to attend family gatherings. I've become his go- between, his protector. I deal with the outside world while he tends to the matter of war. "Are you coming over?" his mother asked. "No, Joe isn't here," I answered, my frequent reply. "Where is he?" "He went to the mountains," I replied, which is more often than not true. He spends a great deal of time in the woods, alone. It's the only place he can relax, somewhat. It helps him more than any drug, which gives credence to the fact that the mind controls the body, if we both weren't proof enough. After I convinced her we'd visit later that week, I hung up the phone and undressed for bed. As I did so, I noticed my steady decrease in weight. My mother always voices her concern for my anorexic appearance. I always insist otherwise; it certainly NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 18 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 isn't intentional. I'd be quick to invite ten additional pounds if I could return my nerves to their previous state. Before this post-Vietnam life. But I never explained to her, or any family member, the cause of my weight loss. I want to spare them that worry. The worry of knowing I live with a time bomb ready to go off at any moment. It doesn't make it any easier for me, but that's my choice, be it good or bad. Bad, I thought, as I looked in the mirror and noticed another gray hair had crept up on me. I held my jaw; it felt sore from clenching my teeth, an unconscious habit I do throughout the day and often during the night. When I lay down in bed, I noticed my muscles ached from constant tension. He really didn't want this to happen to me. He's been noticing my forgetfulness, my overreactions to the slightest things. I can't abandon him like his friends and his country. No one else will see this through. I may be the only reason he's still alive, though his doctors have often said it gets worse before it gets better. If it gets better. I closed my eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. I let my mind drift, to someplace far away. To a jungle somewhere, dark and dense. Sitting with my back to a tree, not knowing what the next moment would bring. Perhaps a tiger would come sneaking over the wire, and drag me off into the night. Maybe I'd walk into a booby trap, and they'd find me the next morning, impaled by a poisoned pungi-stick through my chest. Or maybe one of our own men would freak out and lose it. I wonder what it would be like to have to shoot one of our own in the back because he couldn't be trusted.... The following day provided a disheartening experience. It was one of the many days Joe was scheduled to see a psychiatrist at the VA hospital. A first for me, the doctor wanted to see us both. I had been to the other VA facility where they dealt mostly with physically impaired veterans, but never to the "nuthouse," as Joe so often calls it. I sipped my morning coffee in an effort to come alive, as I watched Joe smoke cigarette after cigarette and take three tranquilizers and two antidepressants, his usual morning ritual repeated several times a day. And people wonder why he doesn't work. "This is going to be a real trip for you," he told me on the way to the hospital. "This place is always a trip." A good one or a bad one? I thought to myself, but I figured what the answer would be. As we walked up to the hospital doors, I noticed a man sitting on a bench by himself. Joe mentioned he had tried to put a bullet through his head but didn't quite do the job, the result being a reconstructed face and the probable shame of not completing a task he had, in the past, been so well trained to do. We stepped inside the building and walked down a long hallway. Just then a fire alarm went off by mistake, and a man behind us yelled "Incoming! Incoming!" which confirmed he was a patient. We reached the cafeteria and stood in line for coffee. As Joe poured I looked around. I watched a man walk past with part of his face missing. A battle wound or another attempted suicide? Joe saw me looking and confirmed the latter, contributing to the statistic that more men have died from suicide than were actually killed in Vietnam. That thought sent chills up my spine. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 19 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 We wandered into the seating area and sat down next to some men Joe knew from group therapy. As he talked with them, I watched the people around us, mostly patients. I could tell by their appearance. Almost all had long hair and beards, and constantly smoked cigarettes. The ones most readily recognizable are those who walk very slowly with blank faces, the result of their heavy medication. The "Thorazine Shuffle" as it's called. One man walked up to our table, spoke to Joe briefly, then walked away. "That guy there, he killed his parents," Joe said. "Is he an inpatient?" I asked. "No," Joe replied. "He's just here to pick up his medication." I wasn't frightened, just saddened. I suppose they're all murderers in a way, though not by choice. The longer I sat there, the more I realized I wasn't all that uncomfortable being in their presence. I guess I knew where they were coming from and what they were all about. And they knew the same of me. I suggested we make our way up to the shrink's office and as we did, Joe mentioned some of the men there never made it home, physically. "They came straight from 'Nam to this place," he said. "Most of their families have forgotten them." We reached the waiting area and, as I took a seat, Joe checked in. I lit a cigarette which I desperately needed by this time, and watched people filter in and out of the waiting room. I noticed an older man in a wheelchair waiting by the elevator. World War II? He didn't appear as if he knew where he was. I watched as he raised his arms as if he were pointing a rifle at an invisible enemy. Then he yelled "BANG" and his arms jerked back as a rifle would kick after being fired. At that point I just wanted to get up and walk out, but I stayed -- if not for Joe then for the sake of the man sitting next to me who was proceeding to tell me his war stories. He was a large man with light brown hair and sunglasses, smoking cigarette after cigarette. Most of what he told me I already knew, but I didn't say anything. He seemed comfortable talking to a complete stranger; maybe he needed someone to talk to. And maybe by listening I was helping him to stay alive just one more day. Someone from the desk called him over and as he walked away, I felt numb with depression. Now I had to talk with this doctor. I knew there wasn't much he could tell me, either. Joe came over and told me I could go in and see the doctor. He didn't want to go in with me, he'd go in by himself when I was through. It didn't matter to me; I just wanted to get out of that place. We met the doctor as we walked down the hall to his room. As Joe wished, I went in by myself. Dr. Peterson was a tall, heavyset man with a balding head and a completely paralyzed left arm. "Joe has what we call Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," he told me. I nodded. He continued, "I think he should come into the hospital for a while; he hasn't been talking these past few sessions. This is a bad time of year for him." This time of year is bad for him, I repeated to myself. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 20 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Eighteen years ago this time, Joe was due to come home. He had only a month of duty left, and since he was still in one piece, they wanted to send him home that way. So they put someone new -- just over from the States -- into his job, driving his truck. "A young kid," Joe always says. Young? They were all young, just out of high school. Maybe Joe felt older after 13 months of duty. They aged quickly over there. The day the switch of duty took place all the vehicles were blown away, all the men killed. Joe has felt extremely guilty about that. He always felt it should have been him. And along with the guilt comes the vivid memory of having had to clean the truck of all the blood and pieces of friends and comrades he had just spoken to that morning. When he had told me this, I'd realized why it was difficult for him to get close to anyone, and why it took me a long time to break through that barrier. I agreed with the doctor that he should go in the hospital and told him I could talk Joe into going in better than he. I thanked Dr. Peterson and promised to remove all the guns from the house, more for Joe's sake than mine. Within the next week, Joe was an inpatient. I wasn't sure how long he'd be in. I needed the break as much as he did, but I didn't know if his stay would help him or make him worse. It certainly isn't a good environment for someone suffering from anxiety and depression. I did feel safe in that he couldn't hurt himself or anyone else. They're very strict about the personal belongings brought in, and should someone get out of hand, they pin them to the floor, put them in restraints, and throw them in a room by themselves. I knew Joe couldn't handle that. I knew he'd do his best not to lose it. No sooner was Joe out of the hospital than he was gone again. To the woods. The only place he could find a little peace and comfort, away from people. The next day was opening day of deer season. But he wasn't going for the hunt. The absence of his firearms prevented that. He just wanted to be alone. "I don't think I could stand the sight of blood," he told me. I missed him that first night. I had been looking forward to his return from the hospital, although sometimes when he's with me, I feel alone. I missed his presence anyway. As I lay in bed, I wondered where he was at, what he was thinking. I tried to remember the last time he lay in bed beside me. He always sleeps on the couch for fear of hurting me in his sleep. As much as it keeps me close to him, it keeps me away from him. I wondered how much longer I could live this way. . . . Epilogue The woods were just coming alive as I made my way through the fallen leaves and over the trees that lay in my path. The birds' songs echoed through the trees and some squirrels above me chattered loudly, letting everything in hearing range know I was approaching. I was making enough noise, between my footsteps and the pick and shovel I dragged behind me, to sound like a small army. I held the urn close to my body and looked around, getting my bearings and realizing why Joe loved the woods so much. It was here he was truly at peace, it was here he would stay. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 21 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 I looked up at one tree and noticed a hunter's treestand that had been left behind. I kept repeating in my mind: Was it truly an accident? That someone would have mistaken Joe's movement through the woods for a deer is not hard to believe; on opening day especially, they'll shoot at anything that moves. I couldn't understand why Joe had not been wearing any fluorescent orange which all hunters are required to wear, even if he weren't hunting. He knew how trigger-happy any hunter can be. I came to a small clearing, with a stand of pines in the center. Among them was a blue spruce, and I picked a spot beneath it. As I dug the hole, I thought to myself: Was it really too much for you, Joe? Have you finally found the peace and freedom you so desperately wanted? Or was it for me? Is this your way of releasing us both? The war that had a hold on both of us, that robbed us of so many things, had ended with his life. I filled the hole, and looked down upon it. I wondered if he heard the shot, the one that got him. I wiped my tears and walked away. Yes, Joe, for me too, the war is finally over. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 22 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 NOT ON THIS WALL By: Joan Renne Friend's BBS Omaha, Ne. (402) 896-2669 Walking toward the Moving Wall, my heart began to pound and I was afraid my emotions would overwhelm me. Afraid that I'd fall apart if someone would ask me if I knew someone whose name was there. I could say yes, and that would be true, but there are other names missing that ought to be there. How could I hide my tears, my memories and pain from others? The 101st Airborne was in town for their reunion and came to pay tribute to fallen friends and comrades; share their memories and experience with each other and those of us who came to visit the names on the Moving Wall. Seeing old friends suddenly recognize each other and shout for joy and relief at the knowledge they had survived Vietnam. Twenty or more years of wondering, and at last they knew! You could feel the electricity surrounding them when they yelled, "Welcome home, buddy! Damn, I'm glad you made it!" The first questions were, "Have you seen the guy we called Captain Midnight, or the dude we called Clearasil?" The names bounced back and forth as other men joined them for yet another round of names. It felt good to see them, and to share a moment of their lives and laughter. But I remembered the two whose names were not on the Moving Wall - or on any other than that of my heart. One, killed in 1959 in an unnamed country in southeast Asia - with no medals or recognition; the other, a 100% disabled Vietnam Veteran who killed himself in 1978. He had medals and recognition until he took his own life. It's so hard to keep back the tears for the two not on the wall. I watched and listened to the curious people as they passed the Moving Wall, and I heard them turn to each other with tears and sometimes shock as the realization of how many men, sons, fathers and daughters died in the Vietnam war. Seeing all those names seemed to strike them as a bayonet in the middle of their quiet comfortable lives. I heard many comment, "So many names, I didn't know . . . " or, "It was such a long time ago. I didn't remember that so many died . . ." A sad and mournful remark repeated over and over: "This is one hell of a statement! I don't think I can forget this." ... I know I'll never forget. There were others struggling with emotions and I wanted to reach out to them and hug them and let them know they weren't alone. But sometimes it's just too painful to share or burden others with my loss and pain. I back away when my throat begins to hurt as I try to stop the sobs and tears. I want to run away from the Moving Wall, but it's the only place where I might find some peace, at least for this day. But then, as she gently touched a name on The Moving Wall, I heard a woman say, "I remember your laughter when you were such a little boy." - and an old man pointing to a name and saying, "There! You see that name? That's my son." NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 23 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 I watched a young woman lean against the Wall and whisper, "Oh, Dad! I miss you so much. I wish the war in Vietnam had never happened. I was so little. I can barely remember you." A tall young man, finding the name he wanted, quipped, "Well, how about that! I had a real dad after all!" I watched his mother sigh as she wiped her tears and listened to her say, "I never lied to you, I don't know why you thought that way." A little girl and her mother left a tiny picture tucked at the base of the Moving Wall and I heard the words, "Hey there, big brother, look at us! We're all grown up now and here's a snapshot of us the way we look today." ... I'm not alone. One man asked another, "Why wouldn't they let our boys win that war?" His friend answered, "Who knows? I lost my dad in Korea, and we didn't win that one either." ... I remember Korea and men no longer living. A woman, young man by her side, ducks her head and takes a deep breath. I can hear her sigh and feel the words not spoken as they look at the matching bracelets of their MIA/POW. The young man hugs her and I hear him say, "Maybe at this reunion we'll find someone who knows about dad..." My tears overflow as I reach out to them. They ask me if I have a MIA/POW. "No - only two whose names are *Missing* - from this Wall. The visitors talked with each other of memories of those years - the 50s, 60s and the 70s - all those years of pain, anger, remorse; hope followed by frustration, fear, and finally the loss. They spoke about other feelings deep inside--the ones that dont have names--and just can't be described. ... I'm not alone. They spoke of the anti-war movement, the demonstrations and the riots, of Jane Fonda and Hippies; Haight-Ashbury, drugs, flower power, Timothy Leary, the bombings, Joan Baez and folk music, the counter-culture and "old what's his name, Fonda's husband?" All this and more about Nixon and students staging sit-ins, draft card burning and of course, the SDS and Abbie Hoffman. ... it seemed like traveling back in time, to when America lost her innocence. They spoke of Kent State and how sad it made them feel - then and now. They remembered things about JFK, LBJ, Ho Chi Minh, Bobby and Martin; the trouble in the cities and the National Guard. One woman told of her anger at a perfume company for naming a fragrance "Charlie." ... do I dare remember how I felt then? NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 24 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 I listened closely as they talked about Duty, Honor, Country. They talked about freedom and how we must defend that freedom for ourselves and our children; the importance of knowing and understanding the Constitution of the United States with all of its Amendments. They reminded each other of the responsibilities that go with being a free citizen of this great land. ... It was good to hear these topics again. A World War II veteran spoke of his anger and rage when he saw the American Flag burned and otherwise abused during the era of Vietnam. How hard it was for him to forget and forgive those ill-advised youths. He was still angry about the boys who ran to Canada, but he was proud of those who chose the Peace Corps. "Service to one's country is important," he said, "and no one should shirk that duty. Freedom extracts a heavy price sometimes, but you need to hold your head up and walk like a first class citizen with honor, pride and respect for your country." He paused and looked at the Moving Wall and spoke once again. "Freedom doesn't come cheap." ... I remembered two not on this wall. A little boy with his father and great grandfather came to visit the Wall. They spoke of the family tradition of serving their country whenever, wherever they were needed - the pride they had in a family name for the ancestors who had fought during the Crusades and in the French Revolution - and now the name of one generation whose name is on the Wall and how proud they were of him for serving the USA. They remembered his younger days of the sports he played and his academic achievements in high school, college, and as a Marine. ... I remembered two not on this wall. A stillness fell when the freckled faced great grandson asked, "If I go to war and get killed will my name be by grandpa's?" The father and great grandfather glanced at each other and quickly away. They both began to speak, but the old man took his great grandson by the hand and said, "We hope you won't have to go to war, but if you're called to serve your country, we know you will. But remember, just because you go to war, it doesn't mean you'll die." "But if I do, will my name be on that wall?" "No, son. No, not on this Wall." ... I sat by the Moving Wall, and wondered about the names of the dead men long forgotten and of the wars lost and won. I thought about the lessons learned and put aside by those who would revise history, and I heard myself say, "There! There they are! All those names on the wall! Those are the names we cannot - we must not forget! Etched in stone, those names will be the NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 25 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 visible proof for generations yet unborn of the cost of war in human terms. We should have more Walls that Move us and remind us - of the lives lost - and of our tears and memories." The Great Grandfather looked at me and said with the voice of conviction and great wisdom, "There is a difference in wars fought for freedom and the wars fought for the sake of war." ... I remembered two not on this wall. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 26 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 "Ho Chang" By: Rod Germain 1625 S. 4th Ave. Arcadia, Ca. 91006 I was looking through some of my stuff from Nam and came up with with the following story. After downloading your Jan. '88 NAMVET from Compuserve, I thought I'd forward it on and see if you can use it. I still have a few old "BOONDOCK BARDS" from the Stars & Stripes if you're interested. ================================================================ Ho Chang rests his rifle across a branch and focuses his telescopic site on the American Infantryman wading through the rice paddy, he waits... Ho Chang is a fifteen year old freedom fighter, a lethal marksman, and a sniper. Concealed high in a tree, a tree that not many years ago in climbed in play. He reaches and methodically plucks a leaf from his line of fire. He feels the familiar anticipation for the kill...KILLING is his single remaining pleasure. Ho Chang is a fanatic. He became one six months earlier while watching his mother, father, and beloved sister run screaming from the engulfing curl of flame and smoke that once had been their home. He watched his loved ones, each a gaping mouthed wildly gesturing torch stumbling crazily through the village and finally sprawling laying amidst the dust, eyeless, hairless black charred hunks that twitched and made sounds not human. Ho Chang crouched beside them weeping and rocking to and fro praying that he might die but only his fire seared soul would die... Their hut had been struck by a low flying American fighter plane. The American Infantryman, Private Robert Evans, is in his first day of combat. Always a peaceful boy raised in the quiet suburbs of Los Angeles. Pvt. Evans, other than playful wrestling on the lawn with neighbor boys, had never been involved in physical conflict until today. Today he has killed three people. A few hours earlier his squad had been fired on from a dense thicket by a number of the enemy. The boy beside him, his only close friend in the service, suddenly stopped and turned to him with a surprised expression on his face and a small red oozing from his forehead. The boy was dead before his body hit the ground. The sergeant shouted a command and Evans, in a blurr of rage and revenge, followed his combat training. Running a zig zag pattern firing from the hip, he charged the thicket with his squad. A flurry of shouts, of confussion and violent hand-to-hand combat resulted in Pvt. Evans shooting two uniformed boys and pulling his bayonet from the breast of a third. A slim uniformed enemy, a young girl. Their eyes had locked, his young blue irised horror, hers in brown graceful tilted long-lashed acceptance that glazed to death while he watched and whimpered... Alone now, lost from his squad, wandering aimlessly, helmet gone but still carrying his heavy rifle with it's dipped bayonet dried to a rust hue, he slogs through the rice patty, its water NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 27 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 almost up to his knees. Dazed, oblivious, mumbling to himself, his mind has returned home to L.A., to the high school he graduated from last year, to sixteen year old Donna who still attends the school. Donna who had promised to wait for him, who writes long chatty letters on ruled note book paper, who has been with no other boy. Both slim, both with long blond straight hair, both tanned with faded blue jeans and sandals walking hand in hand looking much the same. He remembers school days together, surfing together, getting high together, their eyes staring at each other in an innocent, loving gentle passion. Others at home wait, his brother who brags of a big brother, a hero in uniform. His father, a veteran of WW II and Korea, remembers and worries to himself, never out loud. He is proud of his son for enlisting and volunteering to defend the cause of freedom, but he has also been there and knows the price that has to be paid. He doesn't understand the new rules of engage- ment and the whole thing somehow doesn't add up. His mother, a strong woman, worries for his safe return and counts the days. Mom isn't much interested in politics, she just wants her boy home safe. Sometimes she goes into his room and just sits... Pvt. Evans' head looms large framed in Ho Changs telescopic sight. The American's hair is strange uneven brown, a few months earlier it had been pale blond, bleached by the California sun and peroxide fad adhered to by the surfing crowd. Ho Chang feels grim satisfaction at imminent destruction of another American and carefully begins squeezing the ... he pauses ... deciding against quick death, he lowers his site on the enemy figure. The rifle jumps ... kicks solidly against his shoulder ... and a violent crack of sound shattered the insect-buzzing, hot, humid day. The immediate silence that follows hangs still and ominus on the warm heavy air. The hate-altered hollow point nose bullet leaves a small smoldering hole in Pvt. Evans shirt it enters his side below the ribs and above the hip bone. Expanding rapidly it plows a deep trough across the abdomen, leaving his body in a slightly lower location on the left side. Pvt Evans throws his hands in the air and staggered awkwardly, he doesn't fall. Stunnned by the bullets slamming impact he fails to understand what has happened, but immediately the numbness begins to change to pain, a trail of dull pain across his belly. He looks down in a con- fused stupor and opens his shirt. His front is soaking red... blood.. He stands there swaying in shock, bewildered, sweat pours over his face as he stares at the gaping wound across his stomach. A wound from which his entrails now bulged, a wound that now sluggidly disgorges loud quivering glands of blue ruptured spurting arteries, of red severed nerve, jumping muscles, a hanging mutilated mass of brown leaking intestine that drops and splashes the muddy water of the rice paddy. Pvt. Evans begins shaking his head in unbelieving protest. He mumbles "No..No.. OH GOD... NO.." swaying, crying, still moving his head in denial, he clumsily grasps the mangled mess of entrails and begins to stuff them back into himself, into the open pulsating wound of his belly. A few seconds he plays the hopeless game. His legs begin to shake violently, to jump uncontrollably, they buckle... NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 28 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Pvt. Evans slumps to his knees. He kneels there, the muddy water mixes into the wound and his blood spreads out over the muddy scummy surface of the rice paddy. He understands the futility, and dimly understands his death as he watches his weakened hands fall away and falls face forward into the paddy. Upon the sunlit surface of a far distant native rice paddy only a red smear remains, nineteen years of clean promise gone... NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 29 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Yahrzeit '88 Submitted Anonymously My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: - John Keats "Ode to a Nightingale" She put them up in a brass and stained oak frame. Against the white satin background they didn't appear so ominous, and didn't supply a hint as to the way in which they are awarded. A pretty color, like that on the robes of royalty; pure and deep with majestic allusion. On a weekly basis, she polished the frame, keeping the brass as bright as a ray of morning sunlight. The glass was so spotless that it was possible to see quite clearly ones own reflection. She picked a conspicuous spot for them, and fastened them to the wall in the hallway. And so they hung there, waiting. Waiting. But I didn't look at them. I didn't want to see the morbid days and endless nights that caused their arrival. I didn't want to face the face that won these prizes through violent means. But she kept polishing the brass and glass, commenting "They are precious metals" to those who asked about them. And they hung there on the wall, passed each time a step was taken in the hall. And so they hung there, waiting. Waiting. Each week she would clean them, and the evening sun would cast a reflected light ray to the end of the hall. Each week she would polish them with a tenderness as if they were children to be held. She never said a word about them, but it was easy to tell she was extremely curious about their origins. And so they hung there, waiting. Waiting. Any appeal to remove them was met with stern disapproval. She wanted something to remind her of what had happened, even if she didn't know exactly what that was. She never pried, but held me gently on the nights I would wake up soaked in sweat and tears. She never complained, and never wanted out; instead she would shed tears for my fears, and cry for my sorrows. And every week, she would clean and polish them, until like a beacon they shone. And so they hung there, waiting. Waiting. The sleepless nights faded into the past, the weeks melted into months, and the months passed into years. And each week she would polish them, not voicing a bit of curiosity. She understood the pain, because it was evident in her eyes each morning after a dream of return had come. Her soft touch and wavering voice exposed the silent melancholy her heart felt and she tried so hard to hide. And each week, she returned to them, polishing them brightly. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 30 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 And so they hung there, waiting. Waiting. The tenderness, style and beauty was taken from her in an instant she never realized. I never had a chance to explain to her the prize was one of immense sorrow. She would polish them as if they were the most important thing in our existence. She held them as tenderly as she had held me on the occasions that it was needed. She understood that the key to my welfare was locked in that frame of brass and oak, and the only way to release the demons was to face the face in the reflected glass. And so they hung there, waiting. Waiting. Her funeral was a complete shock. The realization of death I thought had died many years ago. Death was something benign, something that didn't affect me anymore. Yet here she was, the Joy, Beauty and Truth of my life, lying in grassy solitude. She was no longer there to polish the brass and oak frame, so the dust and tarnish collected, dimming the Light they reflected in the past. And so they hung there, waiting. Waiting. What the war couldn't accomplish, I thought pills could. G-d it's such a hard life! The pills: they can fix everything. If I take enough of them.... And like a memory hidden by time, the brass greened and the oak cracked. And so they hung there, waiting. Waiting. Waking up in the hospital, I was told death had been a breath away. My first reaction was anger for failing, then anger for trying, and finally settled into weeks of self imposed isolation, purging the pent up feelings in emotional self-abasement. The questions came faster than I could possibly answer, and I closed myself off even further. Ignoring all life around me. And so they hung there, waiting. Waiting. I got home with the feeling she had deserted me; leaving me in not so silent agony. The first thing I noticed was they were polished, bright as any day she had cleaned them. I asked who polished them, and everyone said they didn't know. I took them off the wall, excused myself and went into my private chambers. For the first time I was able to look at them since they were hung around my neck by the powers that warranted their action. For the first time I was able to look at the face that won them, and realize that it was a face of an ordinary man, and not a maniacal killer. I held them and finally the tears came. The tears that would begin to wash away the stench of guilt and sorrow of the years past. The tears that would finally release me from the unbearable torments of my dreams. As I moved to wipe the fallen tears from the polished glass, I looked and saw her face, as clearly as she was sitting there with me. She was smiling a smile of extreme serenity, and lipped the words "Welcome home. I love you." And just as suddenly, she was gone. I knew then who returned the lustre to them. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 31 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 And they no longer hung there, waiting. Waiting. I took the medals and wrapped them in a bedsheet and boxed them up. The box was taken to a family storage place, where they will be safe and cool. The brass and oak frame that she polished so persistently will be safe from corrosion and decay until I decide to take them out again. But for now, they have served their purpose. The Marines gave them to me for my conduct. My wife gave them to me for my sanity. And they no longer hang there, waiting. Waiting. 15 years ago I finished my SEA tour. 10 years ago my wife died, taking that beautiful smile and that full life with her. With this, the tenth anniversary of her death, I would like to let the world know that she was with me when all others had given up hope, and loved me when I didn't seem to love her back. So my continuing love for her I express poorly in these words: You were all of life to me. Yet when I thought that you had abandoned me in death, you still managed to pull me through life. You gave me back that burning desire for life I had lost. Even as you could support me in life, you saved me in death. I cannot offer anything other than the troth I pledged before, to reaffirm before G-d and man to love you for all eternity. # # # Semper fidelis NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 32 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Why Do We Feel So Guilty? By: Joan Renne Friend's BBS Omaha, Ne. (402) 896-2669 I'd like to add an observation about some of my callers that do read and comment to the International Vietnam Veterans Echo; some who avoid it like the plague and others that tell me in feedback how much they appreciate the Echo, and still others that tell me it is a damn shame to carry the Echo and that they won't be calling back. That last group I didn't need to begin with in the first place. Frequently I get feedback saying the user doesn't feel they are qualified to enter messages because, although they were in the military during the years of the Vietnam war, they are not "Real Vietnam Vets." It's a bit strange to me, but I think I am beginning to understand that there is still a whole lot of "Guilt" running around out there in LaLa land. It's possible "they" have a whole lot of feelings they are afraid to voice for fear of being ridiculed. I also notice a tendency by some of the folks that enter messages in the echo to 'put down' those questions asked by this generation (18 and up). One incident in particular, a frequent user on Friends BBS in Omaha who is a college student genuinely interested in political belief systems made the mistake of calling Vietnam Vets "You people." She was thoroughly trounced on in following messages. I'm not saying it was wrong to correct her wording, but the comments aimed at her were certainly not the kind that would elicit further questions from her or others in her age group . . . the next generation who will probably be involved in a war of some kind. Perhaps we, collectively, have great doubts or fear that we somehow have not yet made OUR OWN peace with ourselves and our treatment of the Vietnam Veterans. An example of that took place last Thursday evening on a Hotline call. The man who called was suicidal but reached out one last time to someone he thought might be interested enough to understand and maybe help him through this crisis. Reaching out for help is not easy for anyone, but he felt that if anyone could or would understand it might be AA. He knew there might be someone to help him through a horrible time. He was feeling very much alone and could not get through to the reasons why by himself. I'm not a counselor by any means, but I did pick up on a comment he made about January being an extremely rough time for him. I asked him why January, and his reply was that he had lost both his parents in January a long time ago, and had lost a lot of friends shortly after that. My thoughts (because of the IVVEC Echo) were, "I wonder if he is a NamVet?" So, I asked him. His immediate reply, with no hesitation what-so-ever, was NO!, and he wanted to know why I asked. I told him about the Vietnam Veterans Echo that I carry on the BBS, and that I knew January was the anniversary of the Tet offensive and that a NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 33 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 lot of guys didn't make it back. We talked for quite awhile and he finally said, "Yes, I am a Vietnam Veteran, and I was in country when the word came about my folks. I made it home, but a few days later my platoon was wiped out to the man. I was the only one left. Losing my parents was bad, but losing all my buddies was too much." He went on to say that he was discharged on a Hardship basis since he was the only adult member of his family to take care of 3 brothers and one sister. During the next few years he got lots of abuse about having been a Vietnam Vet and had finally just started saying no when questioned. The time came when the kids were grown and married he turned to alcohol and drugs to sort of "not feel," (Something I am all to familiar with) and though sober and clean for about 3 years, he had reached the point where the pain was just about too much. I finally got his phone number and called a friend that has come through something very similar but who finally landed on his feet, and had him call the man. The report I heard this morning from my friend is positive. The suicidal caller is in the VA Hospital and is going to be receiving help (I hope) to overcome what I would tend to say is PTSD, but there again, I'm not a counselor. Granted, the man spent some time in Nam, and apparently was in a combat zone. However, I think his feelings are similar to those who served during the Vietnam Era but who did not go to NAM. Even those who did go to Nam but did not see combat have a lot of feelings that I feel are not being expressed. We also have a generation of people who violently opposed the war, and who avoided the draft with one excuse or another and now feel guilty for their treatment of the ones who did serve. Guilt is an ugly thing to live with on a daily basis. But is it our right or our place to place guilt on others? I think not. The blame has been laid in many of the wrong places and maybe we need to take a look at that. Political animals sent you to Vietnam with good intentions. Political people tried to stop the killing in any fashion that would bring the nation to an awareness of the wrong being done. Political creeps spat upon those who served in the military and called them "baby killers". Vietnam Veterans have received the worst kind of media coverage possible, beginning before the My Lai atrocity and which still continues whenever a vet goes berserk and goes on a killing rampage. It's almost automatic to hear, "the gunman was/is a Vietnam Veteran." And last of all, it's the Vietnam Veteran who still suffers, even though the nation has finally recognized them and welcomed them home. There is a great big "BUT..." in there and I know you heard it. May I say that they/we are trying? Answer our questions without recrimination; that will help all of us. Go ahead, spill your guts and let us learn what it's like now and what it was like then. Teach us, but don't blame us. Help us heal as you are healing yourselves. Help us shed our own guilty feelings for the years we avoided you and misunderstood you. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 34 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Help us to the realization of what we can do to help you and in so doing help ourselves. I'm not sure I have made my point, but I've tried. - - - Joan Renne is a Korean war veteran and the Sysop of Friends BBS System in Omaha, Nebraska. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 35 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 The Other Forgotten Warriors by: Aphrodite Matsakia - in - April 1989 edition of VFW Magazine ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Dr. Matsakis is the author of "Vietnam Wives" and is a VA psychologist who has counseled Vietnam veterans since 1975. Input by: G. Joseph Peck NAM VETs Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 "I hate Vietnam!" Jessica sobs. "Ed went over there a warm, outgoing person. He came back angry, withdrawn, taking out all his anger on me and the kids. Why he has to turn on us - the ones he loves the most - I just don't understand. The verbal abuse - the yelling, the being called every name in the book - it hurts deep, very deep, even more than the physical abuse. "He's angry at me, his own wife, almost all the time. It's like I'm another person to him, a stranger, not the wife who has stood by him for fifteen years. Maybe I remind him of 'Nam or something." Jessica is the petite attractive wife of Ed, a Vietnam combat veteran she met just before he went overseas, and she has been his faithful partner ever since. For over a year now, Jessica has been attending a women's group at a local Vietnam Veteran's Outreach Center. In this group, Jessica, like the other Vietnam wives, shares her pain, her fears and her profound loneliness. Although still living with Ed, Jessica feels alone and abandoned. Her husband, it seems is involved with another woman. The other wives have the same complaint - their husbands are involved with another woman too - the SAME other woman. Her name is Vietnam. She is ugly and battle-scarred, but her power over the husbands is great. Somehow this "other woman" can hold and entice the men more than their own wives. More than 58,000 Americans died in Vietnam, but many more are dying emotional and spiritual deaths here at home as they struggle daily with PTSD, or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. That is the current psychiatric label given to a malady more commonly known as shell shock, combat fatigue, or war neurosis, which caused the evacuation of some 10% of enlisted men during WWI and, at various points, of many more during WWII. PTSD is not a sign of insanity or a personality deficiency, but a normal reaction to an abnormal amount of stress. Imagine being in a car accident, 20 times a month, 12 months in a row, or being raped, twice a week, for an entire year. How might you feel? Even if these terrible things were not happening to you directly, what if they were occurring to people all around you and you were powerless to stop it? What if you know that at any moment, you might be the next victim? NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 36 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 That's what it was like in Vietnam, during a war where bar girls had hand grenades and even babies were booby trapped, where almost anyone, man, woman, or child, could be a possible enemy. Under such conditions, the soldier tended to stifle his emotions. He had to, for if he had connected with his grief, anger, fear, and sense of powerlessness during combat, he would have been less able to figure out what to do next in order to save himself or others. In the face of a traumatic event, this emotional repression, called psychic or emotional numbing, is an entirely appropriate response. Problems arise, however, when the numbing is carried over into present-day situations where there is no danger, as is the case with PTSD-afflicted veterans. Psychic numbing is a central feature of PTSD. Other symptoms include nightmares, insomnia and other sleep disturbances; survivor guilt, social withdrawal and alienation; flashbacks, hyperalertness (the startle response), depression and anger. Some, but definitely not all, veterans may use alcohol and/or drugs to fight the memories and the seemingly unbearable feelings associated with those memories, powerful feelings such as sorrow, rage, fear and moral confusion. Healing for the veteran involves learning how to confront his war experiences directly, by talking about them and sharing them with other veterans, rather than indirectly, via symptoms, substance abuse, workaholism, self- isolation and other self-destructive behavior. The root of PTSD is fear of death or dismemberment or losing others. It can be suffered by anyone who has experienced an event or series of events of such magnitude of pain and horror that they would overwhelm almost anyone's natural coping mechanisms. Hence PTSD has been found among survivors of the Nazi concentration camps and the bombing of Hiroshima, among prisoners of war and refugee children and survivors of natural catastrophes, such as earthquakes, floods and fires. Victims of rape, incest, wife abuse and other assaults also have suffered from PTSD, as have persons who, although they do not experience trauma directly, witness trauma on a daily basis or are subject to unremitting stress as a part of their job. Among them are police officers, firefighters, rescue workers and health-care workers. While experts disagree on the extent of PTSD, most put the figure at from 500,000 to 1 million. Since PTSD is by definition a delayed response to the war, the number of veterans eventually in need of help may reach as many as 1.5 million or more. Based on this figure, an estimated 900,000 Vietnam wives and partners and approximately 1.098 million children also may be affected. Until recently, the Vietnam veteran was aptly named the "forgotten warrior." His experiences in Vietnam and subsequent readjustment problems upon return were too often readily swept aside by a society that for the most part wanted to forget about Vietnam. Only during the past two or three years have Vietnam veterans finally been given some public recognition for their many contributions. Nevertheless, the psychological effects of Vietnam experience are still poorly understood, not only by the NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 37 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 general public, but by many veterans and their families. Even less understood are the effects of PTSD on family life. To date, fewer than two dozen articles have been published on the wives and children of Vietnam vets, the other "forgotten warriors." "Vietnam Wives" is the first book which focuses directly on the impact of PTSD on the wives and children of Vietnam veterans. In many ways, the Vietnam veteran has borne the burden of our national shame, guilt and confusion regarding the Vietnam War. His wife, however, has borne society's burden for the veteran. More often than not, it is the Vietnam wife and nobody else who has nursed her husband through his flashbacks and nightmares, through his depressions and suicidal episodes and through his mourning, as well as his rage reactions. Usually it is she and she alone who has maintained her husband's will to live and has served as a buffer between him and the world. Even when abused by her husband, the Vietnam wife has often remained by his side, not only from fear, but from compassion, realizing that her husband's rejection of her or his explosions were not due solely to his individual temperament but were due to the frustrations and stigmas imposed upon him by others and by a variety of social institutions. Intuitively, the Vietnam wife often sensed that underneath her husband's abrasiveness or coolness lay enormous amounts of self-hate and confusion. The Vietnam wife has sacrificed much. Yet, despite her many sacrifices, she has been treated like a footnote. Outside of Vet Center women's support groups, she has received practically no acknowledgement of her pain, anger or anguish. In many cases, she has been as misunderstood and as unsupported by her family and community as her PTSD afflicted husband. To the extent that the vet has been perceived as crazy, the Vietnam wife also has been perceived as crazy - for staying with him, for loving him and for helping him through his "PTSD attacks." Like their husbands, Vietnam wives have their war stories too. Most of the women feel emotionally neglected, if not outright abused. Their chief complaint is that their husbands often use them as scapegoats for problems having to do with Vietnam or with life in general. Many of the women have been hit at least once. However, in my experience only about a fourth fall into the battered woman category, where the abuse is repeated and severe and where the man exercises an emotional and financial, as well as physical, stranglehold over his wife. (This rate, however, is based on a limited sample and is not significantly different from rates of wife abuse found among other groups in our society.) Where there is no overt emotional or physical abuse, often another form of emotional abuse, a stony silence, prevails. Many wives feel as if they are living with strangers, not husbands. Some of the women are in touch with their anger; others are not. Most have ambivalent feelings about their anger. On the one hand, they feel it is a legitimate response to being mistreated, unloved and overburdened. The majority of the wives are the economic, as well as the emotional, mainstays of the family, holding down two jobs - one at home, one at work.) On the other hand, the women feel that, since their husbands suffered through various hardships in Vietnam, they should be NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 38 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 more understanding and patient. Jane, for example, works two jobs while caring for three children. She drives her sons to ball practice, her daughter to ballet. Her husband, Dan, is often so depressed he can do very little around the home. Since the war, Dan has been in and out of treatment for PTSD and is able to contribute little to the family income other than his disability check. In deference to Dan's ego, Jane keeps her complaints to herself or shares them only with the group. Like many Vietnam wives, Jane is exceptionally dedicated and loyal to her husband, very sensitive to the fact that her husband lost his hearing in one ear in Vietnam. "Half his unit was wiped out too. After all he went through, maybe I have no right to moan. But it's been 13 years of me being Supermom. I'm worn out and I keep wondering when is he going to get over this thing? I try to be patient, but when I come home and the dishes aren't even done, I blow up. Then he says I'm aggravating his PTSD." In group, Vietnam wives learn it is perfectly possible and normal to be both understanding and angry at their husbands at the same time. Nevertheless, most of the women hide their anger. Some fear their husband's rage. Others do not want to interfere with their husband's healing process. Still others keep quiet because their husbands are suffering from, or slowly dying of, exposure to Agent Orange or because their husbands have talked about suicide. This is a real possibility for some Vietnam veterans. Although there are no definitive statistics, some sources allege that as many veterans have died by their own hand as were killed in Vietnam. Equally distressing are the high number of deaths and injuries due to one-car collisions and other "accidents" among Vietnam veterans that are often viewed as suicidal in nature. When the veteran suffers from PTSD, his children may be affected also. Low self-esteem and self-blame for their father's unhappiness are the two most common problems seen so far. Some children show symptoms similar to the fathers', e.g. nightmares. Vietnam wives often feel as if they are single parents with the burden of the children's emotional and physical well-being on their shoulders. Often, they try to compensate for their husband's difficulties by being Supermothers. According to some Vet Center counselors, the future may well see self-help groups for adult children of Vietnam veterans similar to contemporary groups for adult children of alcoholics. Help is available at VA medical centers. Twenty-eight of them have inpatient PTSD units and at 189 Vietnam Veterans' Outreach Centers. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 39 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 AND I WAITED . . . Submitted Anonymously I married you because I loved you, and because you were handsome, and even though there was a difference of 15 years in our ages, I trusted you. We waited for your orders not knowing where we were going or if I could go. You told me it wasn't easy being married to a 'lifer', and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . Hurray! WE are going to Japan! And I worried what it would be like living in a foreign country. You told me not to worry and I believed you for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . You were right, I loved Japan, and I learned to speak Japanese as would a child. Your hours were long, and it seemed we seldom saw each other, but you told me it would soon be better and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . I worried about the missiles Cuba, and you told me not to worry, and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. But, one November day came the news of the assassination of our president, and I didn't see or hear from you for eleven days. And I waited . . . Johnson was the president now, and things were looking grim in Southeast Asia, but you told me not to worry, and I believed you. I began to wait, and wait, because you were TDY so often and couldn't tell me where you had been, but you told me you were safe and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . For our orders back to the States, and to a nice house and maybe a family, but you told me we had orders for Thailand. You said I would like it and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. I saw you even less in Thailand for you were always going TDY to places you said you couldn't talk about, but that you were safe and I shouldn't worry, and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. New orders for you came suddenly, and we talked a lot those last few days, and we decided it would be okay for me to stay in Japan with friends as you didn't think your assignment would take very long. You said I would be okay and not to worry about you, and I believed you, for you always told me the truth. And I waited . . . . . . for 364 days and you were back in Japan. You spoke NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 40 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 few words about South Vietnam but told me you were shipping over for six more years, but I musn't be upset, we had plenty of time for a family. I believed you . . . And I waited . . . And another tour in the Far East. The next three years you were TDY more than with me in Japan. It seemed what I did best those years was waving goodbye at an aircraft leaving the end of the runway. You told me being married to a 'lifer' wasn't easy, but I already believed that. And I waited . . . You told me you had orders for a tour in Vietnam, but not to worry, you knew the language and the people and you knew you would be okay. And I believed you . . . And I waited . . . When you came back to Japan you were different, but I couldn't say just what it was. You talked less and you were jumpy and the small sounds of traffic or a knock on the door nearly drove you crazy. You were icy cold at times, and there seemed no way I could reach you. I heard you cry out in a dream one night, and when I touched you, it was like an explosion. You hit me and you kicked me and you were so sorry when you realized it was only me. The orders came for Thailand again, but this time I couldn't go. You said it would be good duty, and not to worry and I believed you.. And I waited . . . Then you said you had another tour 'down south' and I worried. You came back again seven months later, with scars on your back and shrapnel in your legs and a two new ribbons on your chest, a Purple Heart and a Silver Star. You had the 'jitterin screamin meanies,' and jumped at every sound. The dreams had been bad before, but now they were even worse. I knew by now not to touch you in your sleep, and only to call your name. You had an ugly rash that wouldn't go away, and your nightmares were scaring me to death. You stared at every person you saw and you watched every move of the trees in the wind. You drank too much, but you said it would be okay soon and you were ready to retire. That was fine with me, I still wanted that family. We came back to 'the world' and you retired with 26. You were so spooky at times and the dreams were so bad I didn't think I could stand it anymore. I couldn't imagine how you dealt with the trauma of the dreams you had night after night. But you kept telling me you'd be okay, and I had no reason not to believe you. We had a child so sweet and dear, but she died of cancer within the year. We cried and mourned together for a short NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 41 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 while, and then you told me it was your fault and that you should never have fathered a child. I didn't believe you then and I won't believe that now. And I waited . . . The VA couldn't help the rash, and they kept cutting out the lumps that grew on your face and neck and arms. Your nerves were shot and you wouldn't talk to anyone about what was going on inside you, not even to me. You began to have terrible headaches and you said your vision changed at night. The VA didn't believe you but I saw you, and I believed. You got so angry at VA doctors when they told you the headaches were psychosomatic, and you flew into rages at everything and everybody, and even at God. I tired to get you to see a civilian doctor, but you said the country owed you, and you would get what you needed from them. You wouldn't talk to me, and you said I wouldn't understand, and I believed you. And I waited . . . I tried so hard to help and there wasn't anything I could do. The people we met didn't want to hear about Vietnam, and you told me not to tell anyone them you had been there. You said they were naive and cruel and they had killed your men one by one, not with bullets or bombs but with traitorous words and deeds. You told me you had been fighting for a country whose people did not care, and that U.S. policy was geared to public opinion by a President who would not let you win. The riots were going strong and Watergate was all the talk. Nixon pulled the troops out of Vietnam with 'honor' and you cried. The P.O.W.s came home and you cried, you said that wasn't all of them, and I believed you. You told me so many of their names and I wondered how you knew. You said we needed something to care for and we bought an Irish Setter pup and you taught it to quarter a field. You have him a funny Vietnamese call name and he grew and grew. You worked with him so hard and you loved us both. He grew and grew and became a Champion Working Dog. You told me you were going hunting and not to worry that you'd be back the next night. And I believed you. Now I sit and wait, and wait, and wait for the sound of the gate and your footsteps, and stories of the great hunt. I've been to the Wall and I've seen all the names, and I wonder why yours isn't there. But it's all right, you didn't die in Vietnam, you died as a result of the combat within yourself. I often wonder how many other women sit and wait for the sound of a footstep, or who awake in the night and find our beds so empty. I wonder how many children wonder why their fathers could no longer bear to be with them. I wonder why you never told us you hurt so much. Three wars couldn't kill you, but you did. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 42 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Two Walls by G. Joseph Peck NAM VETs Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 I heard them talk about putting their duffle bags in a little building by the 'Nam airbase. "Yeah," said one Marine, "Ours stayed in there for 13 months! For you Army and other guys, it was only 12 months before you were picking them up and riding your Freedom Bird home!" Esprit de Corps... loyalty to YOUR branch of service... still strong 15 - 20 years after civilian clothes became, again, the uniform of the day. Outside, puffy white clouds drifted across a full moon as the bus carrying me and members of Pittsfield, MA's Vietnam Veterans of America Chapter 65 rolled towards Washington, D.C. and, for me, another face-to-Wall confrontation with "the guilty's". "You didn't serve in 'Nam; you don't know what it feels like to know there's incoming, or someone shooting at you from the bush, or hoping you'll get caught in one of their booby-traps! You've got NO business in the 'Nam church with these guys; Nothing you've experienced will EVER compare with what they've gone through. What are you tagging along for?" Coins clink; an overhead light is turned off; the bathroom door on the bus is opened and closed again. I thought about the time I went in `82 when we dedicated the Memorial. Same feelings. And same ones again when my wife and I went for the Three Soldiers addition in '84. Now its 1989. If "the guilty's" have changed, they've changed for the worse. I remember my kids at home, staying up until the very last moment so they could say good-bye, savoring every second before I left on this trip. So much like so many years ago... There it is. Black granite rising out of the dew- covered,early-morning earth. Names... names... and I didn't get to go. I wanted to - but a jeep accident ended MY military career. Names... Names... Did I know any of 'em? Do I know who any of them were? What honor can I do their loss? Suddenly, time stops - reverses itself. It's 1963 again. There's my buddy Paul! "Joe, you'll want to make the service your career. Look what its done for me! C'mon... remember JFK's words `Ask Not What Your Country Can Do For You - Ask What YOU Can Do For Your Country!' Follow me, buddy - I'm leading the way!" Tears; can't catch my breath; can't talk - only sob. There's Paul's name. William P. Townsend, Jr. Like brothers, we'd camped and hiked and grew up together ... and I tried to follow him. Now I can't go past that part of The Wall without a flood of emotions - and even MORE of "the guilty's". The power of The Wall is in its somber silence... On to Arlington and rows upon rows of crisp-white crosses NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 43 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 rising uniform to greet the afternoon sun. The same silent power I felt at The Wall is present at the gravesite of John F. Kennedy. Silence... memories... To the Iwo Jima statue where one of the dyed-in-the-wool Army-types, at least temporarily, joined the Marines. Quick ride through the city and we were on our way back. Pittsfield, MA at 1215 on Sunday morning found me still silent, still muffled, still tormented by "the guilty's." Monday morning. Early. The rain clouds blew away just before dawn. When the sun rose, its light made everything seem new. Opened car windows let in the fragrance of freshly cut grass and a forest-like odor curiously reminiscent of a time long ago and far away quickly filled my nostrils. Something stirred, began to gnaw at me. A restless, searching, familiar sensation awoke. I turned the car towards my old home town. The still-wet roads looked newly paved and residents of the sleepy little village were just brewing their coffee when I arrived and parked next to the unopened Post Office. Restless still, I began to walk - to retrace footsteps of many years ago. Familiar sights... the old hardware store next door to where we first lived when we moved into town; the new general store that replaced the one that burned a couple of years ago; memories of happy peals of laughter from my now-20-year-old Active Duty Army son as he frolicked and played with the little blonde girl from next door. A mile down the road and I was at the now-empty converted farmhouse where we'd last lived. The three-story treehouse the little blonde girl with sparkling blue eyes and my son built had stood the test of time. "Just a visit, I suppose," I mumbled to myself, "Guess I'd better get back home." Still restless and feeling like my search hadn't yet ended, I took the backroad way home. Past the horse farm. Past the widow's house. Past the Retired Colonel's ranch. Up to the egg farm and turned again towards the main road. The old church at the junction had been new-painted white. Stopping in the driveway, I remembered the owner of the hardware store. He was my friend - one of those special people with a unique ability to make ANYTHING work with just baling wire and masking tape. He'd died fighting an out-of-control grass fire near his home. He was buried in the cemetery behind the church. "Gotta pay my respects to my local friends, too" I told myself, and drove up the dirt road that led to the cemetery. The sweet smell of flowers and damp forest growth filled the air. The morning sun was bright and the air was yet crisp. The view from the hill was breathtaking. I walked towards my friend's grave... and stopped in shock and disbelief when I read the name on the headstone next to his. My friend's granddaughter - the sparkling blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl that used to play with my children and frolic and build treehouses and squeal with laughter! Didn't even reach her 17th birthday! I could feel "the guilty's" starting to come again. Visions of NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 44 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 The Wall, of Paul, of the little blonde girl's flower-carved tombstone all begin to blur... and suddenly they all blended into one harmonious, peaceful realization. Through the sadness and tears, I thought about the little blonde girl and her life. Not ONCE did she know the fear of having her village attacked; not ONCE did she have to fear that her freedom would be taken from her, or that she couldn't chose to do what she wished with her life. NOT ONCE!!! And 'WHY NOT?' It was BECAUSE of the prices paid by the 2.3-million like those on the bus and here in the IVVEC who'd served in 'Nam; BECAUSE of prices paid by the 8.7-million like myself who had service in other places; and BECAUSE of prices being paid even now by people like my son, that the freedom we all hold so dear has continued to exist! I remember the speech (Don't think I'll EVER forget it). Many of you do, too. "...ask what YOU can do for your country." For the little blonde girl, and many like her - we DID for our country -and its future! We ALL have a right to be proud! Two Walls... one with names and memories and pain; the other with a flower and memories and pain. "The Guilty's?" All I have to do is remind them of the other Wall and the little blonde girl, spend some time with my own and other children, think of THEIR future - and "the guilty's" vanish in the knowledge that I, too, am a part of what has helped keep America great! And though I really don't know what it's like to hear incoming or know that someone is wishing to see ME dead, I DO know what it's like to stand at the ready and be prepared to serve at a moments notice; I DO know what its like to vigorously train and train and train some more to be one of America's finest! And I DO know what it's like to be part of the greatest team on earth! Two Walls... one shows the PRICE; the other, the PRIZE! Anniversary Issue Note: I visited the parents of the little blonde girl shortly after I wrote this. Unfortunately for them, my visit was during the week of the girl's birthday. I later forwarded a copy of this editorial to them and let them know that the little girl was sorely missed. I just received a very nice letter from the parents thanking all of US for remembering her! Included with the letter was a picture of the little blonde girl on her 16th birthday! I know I'll treasure that for a long time to come! NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 45 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= O u r F l a g ! ! ! ================================================================= STARS AND STRIPES The material has been authenticated by The Flag Heritage Foundation, Lexington, Massachusetts, Dr. Whitney Smith, Executive Director. Published by Shaw-Barton, Coshocton, Ohio (c) 1973 Command Inc. INPUT BY: G. Joseph Peck NAM VET's Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 FOREWORD From its origin as the British Jack to our modern day Old Glory, our flag represents a dedication to freedom that symbolizes America. Our flag is not made of colored cloth and stitches, but of people; of pioneers like Daniel Boone and Neil Armstrong; of soldiers who fought and died to keep it waving free; of old and young, black and white, rich and poor, great and ordinary people alike who share in common a positive act of pride in hoisting the red, white and blue symbol of our nation. It is a genuine pleasure to present this compact little volume (minus the graphics in this ASCII textfile reproduction completed for NAM VET by Assistant Editor G. Joseph Peck), which brings you the story of the Stars and Stripes, and the history and legends which surround it. It is a fascinating and ageless account of our country's determination for freedom and the banner which gradually evolved to appropriately represent it. OLD FLAGS IN A NEW WORLD The first flag in the new world is believed to have been the black Raven flag of the Vikings, brought here by Leif Ericson early in the 11th century. Almost 500 years passed before Columbus brought the flag of Spain, and in so doing, opened the door to armies of explorers unfurling banners of many colors and designs - a virtual catalogue of the Old World. Cartier charted the St. Lawrence under the fleurs-de-lis of France. Sweden's yellow cross on a blue field flew over a military colony along the Delaware River. The red, white and blue of the Dutch protected the colonists of New Amsterdam. Add to these the old czarist flag of Russia and those of Mexico and the kingdom of Hawaii; all of them staking out colonies and new wealth for the Old World or seeking out a different way of life. Here, too, came the separate flags of England and Scotland, borne by men who more than any others were to determine the future of the new continent. THE BIRTH OF THE COLORS Of all the colors in the spectrum, why is our flag red, white and blue? These colors that would come to symbolize our great union of states were themselves born of another great union. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 46 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 England and Scotland, long bitter rivals, were united under common rule in 1603 when James VI, the Scottish king, also became ruler of England. He faced an immediate controversy - which flag should fly over the new union? The English flag of St. George, with a red cross on a white field? Or the Scottish flag of St. Andrew, showing a white cross on a blue field? The question was argued until 1606, when King James ordered that the two crosses be joined on a single flag symbolizing the union of two great peoples. Together the red and white English flag and blue and white Scottish flag became the red, white and blue Union Jack. This was the flag that flew over the colonies until the spirit of revolution rose. Although the Union Jack did not remain in this country after that revolution, its colors did. FLAGS OF DISCONTENT Long before the revolution the independent character of the colonies was revealed in their flags. There were as many flags as there were colonies, and many state flags today carry some of the early revolutionary symbols. Rhode Island chose a white flag with a blue anchor and the word "Hope" emblazoned on it. A flag in South Carolina had a white crescent and the word "Liberty". On its flag, Massachusetts inscribed "Appeal to Heaven" beneath a pine tree. That the colonists also were beginning to think of themselves as united was shown by several banners representing regions or common causes. The oldest of these was that of New England, which dated back to 1686. It had a solid red field with a red cross in the white canton and a pine tree in the upper left quadrant of the canton. It was a version of this flag that flew at Bunker Hill. Another colonial resistance flag was the "Rebellious Stripes,." the banner of the Sons of Liberty who staged the Boston Tea Party. It showed nine alternating red and white stripes representing the nine colonies that participated in the Stamp Act Congress. Slowly but inexorably, the colors and patters for the American Flag were coming together. JOIN, or DIE A FLAG OF DEFIANCE One of the most powerful and popular of colonial flag symbols was the rattlesnake. Benjamin Franklin used a "curved and sliced" rattler on the masthead of his famous Gazette, with the warning "Join or Die." America's first naval Commander-in-Chief, Esek Hopkins, had for his personal flag a coiled rattler on a yellow field with another warning, "Don't Tread on Me." Many colonists felt the rattler should be a part of the official flag of a united colonies. They argued: "The rattlesnake is found only in America. It has bright eyes with no lids, symbolizing constant vigilance. It never attacks first. It never surrenders. It never strikes without warning. It commonly has 13 separate yet firmly united rattles on its tail. Each rattle makes little noise by itself,but the 13 together alarm the boldest of men." Our flag might have had a rattlesnake but for the still stronger argument of those colonists who could not see "how or why a venomous serpent could be the emblem of a brave and honest folk fighting to be free." It was an argument to which even the rattlesnake yielded. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 47 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 THE RED DUSTER Even after King James VI established the Union Jack, British ships of trade and war showed a red flag with either the Cross of St. George or the Cross of St. Andrew in the upper hoisting corner. In 1707, Queen Anne changed that naval ensign. She ordered that the practice of flying the separate crosses be stopped and that the Union Jack be in the flag's corner. The solid red field remained. This flag became known as the British Red Ensign, or, more popularly, the "Red Duster," and was a common sight in early American harbors and settlements. It was this flag that the colonists, early in 1776, altered and, in so doing, signaled the impending outbreak of war with England. SIGNAL OF REVOLUTION On January 1, 1776, six months before the Declaration of Independence, General George Washington ordered a bold new flag raised at the top of Prospect Hill in Charlestown, Massachusetts, and in so doing announced the creation of the Continental Army. The banner was the British "Red Duster" with the Union Jack in the canton, but with six white stripes cutting through the solid red field. This made thirteen alternating red and white stripes, standing for the thirteen colonies at war with England. This flag became known as the "Continental Colors" or the "Grand Union Flag." For six months this was the flag of the united colonies, and on July 4, 1776, became the flag of an independent United States of America. After that day the people of the new country wanted a distinct flag to symbolize their new independence. Almost a year was to pass, however, before the Continental Congress responded. THE BIRTHDAY OF A FLAG As the war with England wore on, a new flag symbolizing a new nation was in order. On June 14, 1777, the Continental Congress concerned itself with a number of routine matters. Two orders of payment of money to John Murray were approved. A letter from Amos Throop of Providence was read and referred to the Maritime Committee. Various monies were appropriated for military purposes in the war with England. And then, almost incidentally, the Congress passed a resolution: "Resolved: that the Flag of the united states be 13 stripes alternate red and white, that the Union be 13 stars white in a blue field representing a new constellation." With no more fanfare than that the old Union Jack that spoke of loyalty to England was removed and a field of stars joined the red and white stripes. Strange as it may seem today, the resolution that created the flag was not even reported in the newspapers until three months later, and the birthdate of our flag - June 14 - was not officially proclaimed Flag Day until 1915! SYMBOL OF A NEW SEA POWER On the same day Congress gave birth to our flag - June 14, 1777 - it also granted a naval commission to John Paul Jones. That NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 48 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 single act was to bring early recognition to the flag it had just created. After Jones outfitted his ship, RANGER, he moved into friendly French water. On February 14, 1778, in the harbor of Quiberon, French and American ships exchanged flag salutes. This was the first foreign recognition of the Stars and Stripes. Two months later, Jones met and defeated the British ship, DRAKE, and for the first time the Stars and Stripes was hoisted over a defeated vessel. Most importantly, the victory made our flag a symbol to be reckoned with, a fact which Jones underscored dramatically in one of the great sea battles of our early history. Commanding the BON HOMME RICHARD, Jones met and engaged the British SERAPIS on September 23, 1779. At a point in battle when the balance favored the British, Jones was asked to surrender. He replied, "I have not yet begun to fight." The tide of battle and the future of our navy turned. The SERAPIS fell. The leaders of a young nation had created a flag. John Paul Jones gained for it a new measure of respect. DIFFERENT STARS, DIFFERENT STRIPES The flag resolution adopted by Congress on June 14, 1777, was vague, calling only for 13 alternating red and white stripes and 13 white stars on a blue field. Both the stars and stripes were to correspond with the number of states in the union. Perhaps the oldest version of the Stars and Stripes was the Bennington banner, carried on August 16, 1777, during the Battle of Bennington in New York State, just over the Vermont border. This flag carried an arch of 11 stars beneath which was emblazoned "76". The two upper corners of the blue field also carried a star. There were other major differences between the stars and stripes on early banners and the flag we know today. Early flags had stars with four to seven points; today's have five. The field sometimes started and ended with a white stripe making 7 white and 6 red stripes. Today's starts with a red stripe, having 7 red and 6 white. The clear intent of the 1777 flag resolution was to give our nation a single symbol. It led instead to many versions and, unfortunately, many romantic legends and serious doubts about the true origins of the flag. LEGEND OF A LADY The maker of the first Stars and Stripes remains a mystery. The cherished American tradition is that Betsy Ross was given that task by General Washington himself. No authentic records of the time, however, substantiate the story. The annals of the Continental Congress do not. Nor do the personal writings of anyone, including General Washington. All that is known of Betsy Ross is that she was paid 14 pounds, 12 shillings and twopence by the Pennsylvania State Naval Board in May, 1777, for making ships colors. How then, did the legend begin? Surprisingly, Betsy Ross's supposed connection with the first Stars and Stripes was completely unknown until 1870, almost 100 years after the alleged event, when William J. Canby, grandson of Mrs. Ross, read a paper before the Philadelphia Historical Society. Canby's paper was based primarily on recollections of conversations he'd had with his grandmother. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 49 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 It was an appealing tale, and artists and storytellers of the day were quick to embellish it. But the legend has become so widespread and charming that it is still taught in many schools. A THIRST FOR RECOGNITION The name of the designer of the first Stars and Stripes has never been confirmed, although one man did make a formal claim to that honor. That man was a signer of the Declaration of Independence and a member of the Congress that made the Stars and Stripes our flag on June 14, 1777. In 1780, Francis Hopkinson of New Jersey requested recognition for some "devices" he had created, including "the flag of the United States of America." Hopkinson wanted a small reward for these "labours of fancy" and suggested a "quarter cask of public wine." Congress demanded a more detailed statement. Hopkinson then put a value of nine pounds - about $45 - hard money on his flag design. Congress refused the claim. Hopkinson, angered by the rejection, resigned his governmental position but continued to press for compensation. In 1783, Congress finally decided that "the report relative to the fancy work of F. Hopkinson out not to be acted upon" and he received neither recognition, nor money, nor public wine. There is no question that Hopkinson did some design work on some flag. Whatever work he did do, however, was not regarded seriously, for the flag was to change many more times - both its stars and its stripes. THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER At the height of the war of 1812, an American, Doctor William Beans, was held prisoner aboard a British warship. He would enter history books because he had a young lawyer friend named Francis Scott Key. Key, with President Madison's blessing, agreed to negotiate for the release of his friend. He went to Chesapeake Bay where the British were massing a fleet for a combined land and sea assault on Fort McHenry. He was cordially received aboard the English ship SURPRISE by Admiral Cochrane and General Ross. The General agreed to release Dr. Beans, but not immediately. Key and his party were to stay aboard the ship until the British "had reduced Fort McHenry to ashes." The British poured shells into the fort throughout the night of September 13, 1814. A relentless barrage shook the countryside. The Stars and Stripes did not yield. It continued to wave defiantly, triumphantly. "At dawn's early light" on September 14, Key, so moved by what he had seen, wrote on the back of a letter the words to the Star Spangled Banner. Later, the music of an old English song, "To Anacreon in Heaven" was adapted to his poem, but it was not until 1931 that it was officially designated by Congress as our National Anthem. FIFTEEN STRIPES The flag Francis Scott Key saw over Fort McHenry was unique in several ways. It was the largest of its time, measuring 30 feet wide and 42 feet long and weighing about 200 pounds. The Star Spangled Banner had 15 stripes and was the only official flag of the United States to show more than 13 stripes. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 50 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 It was created by the Congress in the second flag act of January 12, 1794, to recognize the admission of Vermont (1791) and Kentucky (1792). Each was given a star and a stripe. By 1817, five more states had joined the Union and some people suggested that five more stars and stripes be added to the flag. But there was serious objection. "The stripes will become so small as to be indistinguishable," some legislators observed. Debate went on for almost two years until Congressman Wendover of New York made a resolution: go back to the 13 original stripes, but add a single star in the blue field for each new state. That proposal became the third flag act, passed on April 4, 1818. Except for the exact arrangement of the stars, which would wait almost another century, the course of our flag's design was set. A SAILOR SIGHTS THE STARS One of the great heroes of the War of 1812 was Captain Samuel Chester Reid, whose 90-man ship, GENERAL ARMSTRONG, repelled a squadron of three British ships with 2,000 men aboard. When the battle ended, Reid's crew had suffered nine casualties, the British 250. Reid was lesser known, however, for his attempts to end confusion over our flag's design. He suggested, for example, specific patterns of stars to designate military, government and private uses of the flag on both land and sea. This idea was not accepted. His proposal to standardize our flag design was also ignored until President Taft made it fact in 1912. One flag Reid did design - with the stars forming one large star - was widely used, but was never officially adopted. His frustrations in trying to bring order out of chaos may have been somewhat eased when, in 1818, he presented to President Monroe a flag his wife had made. The President in turn had it flown over our nation's Capitol. Reid lived to see 14 new stars added to that flag before his death in 1861. THE LAST FOREIGN FLAG By 1836, our flag had 25 stars, and frontiersmen were pushing forward. But vast areas of the land to their west, though settled largely by Americans, lay under the claim of Mexico. Texans won their independence from Mexico in 1836, and for nine years flew a Lone Star flag as an independent republic. On July 4, 1845, Texans voted to join the United States, and on December 29 of that year, the Lone Star became the state flag of Texas and Texas the 28th star of the Union. Mexico, which had never recognized the Republic of Texas, was furious, and declared war on the United States. Almost simultaneously Californians, who also sought independence from Mexico, staged their Bear Flag Revolt - so named because of the homemade flag they carried, which bore a white field, a single star, the words "California Republic" and the figure of a grizzly bear. Their struggle became part of the U.S. war with Mexico. Within six months, Mexico capitulated and a year later, February 2, 1848, signed the Treaty of Guadalupe- Hidalgo, giving up all land claims north of the Rio Grande. On September 9, 1850, California became the 31st star on the nation's flag. Now the young country had its flag flying from the Atlantic on the east to the Pacific on the west. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 51 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 THE BROTHERS PERRY The flags of two brothers are displayed at the U.S. Naval Academy. One of the brothers, in war, helped to make us a naval force; the other, in peace, helped to make us an international trading power. Their acts were separated by 40 years. In 1813, Oliver Hazard Perry won one of the most brilliant naval victories of our history - the Battle of Lake Erie - which marked the first time in history that an entire English naval squadron was lost by surrender. It was during this battle that Perry sent his now-famous message, "We have met the enemy and they are ours." Matthew Perry's battle service was not as renowned as that of his brother, but his tested abilities as seaman and diplomat made him President Fillmore's choice to carry a message to the Emperor of Japan requesting trade agreements. On July 8, 1853, Matthew Perry entered the Bay of Yedo (Tokyo) and for the first time in its history, the Stars and Stripes was unfurled in lands of the Far East. The treaty that followed not only established the U.S. as a world maritime force, it also brought far-reaching changes to Japan, for within two generations that nation would rise from feudalism to a status of world power. THE SOUTHERN CROSS At the outbreak of Civil War in 1861, the Confederacy moved quickly to establish its own flag - a flag that would change many times during its short life. The first of the Confederate flags, created in 1861, had three broad stripes - two red and one white. The canton was blue with a circle of white stars, one for each state. In battle, however, this flag looked so much like the Union's that it confused the troops. Because of this confusion, Southern soldiers adopted the famous Southern Cross with 13 white stars along a blue diagonal cross on a red field. In 1863, the battle cross became the canton on a white field. But this flag, when furled, looked like a white flag of truce. To overcome this, the Confederate Congress, on March 4, 1865, added a broad red vertical stripe to the outer half of the white field. But what of the Stars and Stripes during this period? When the Southern states seceded, angry Northerners demanded that the rebel stars be removed from the Union flag, but President Lincoln would not allow it. Throughout the war, the Stars and Stripes flew in the North as it always had. OLD GLORY "Stars and Stripes" and "Star Spangled Banner" seem natural enough names for our flag. Yet a third and less obvious "Old Glory", has become as popular. This is, perhaps, because it came from the heart of a salty New England sailor. William Driver went to sea at 12 and at 18 became master of his own vessel. Before one of his voyages from Salem, Mass., in 1831, his friends gave him a beautiful American flag. As it was raised to the mast of his ship, CHARLES DOGGETT, he was visibly moved and cried out, "I'll call her Old Glory, boys... Old Glory!" His flag followed him throughout his seafaring days and, finally, to Nashville, Tenn., where he retired. There he flew it NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 52 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 on all holidays and on his birthday - even at the outbreak of the Civil War to show his belief in the Union. But when the emotions of the war intensified, he sewed Old Glory between the layers of a quilt to prevent its confiscation. When the Union army entered the city, the Captain ripped open the quilt and brought out his flag. He raised it atop the Nashville Capitol and led the Union troops in shouts of "Old Glory, Old Glory!" After the war that story of the Captain and his flag spread and captured the hearts of millions. The name the salty seaman gave her was anchored in history. 31 WORDS The Pledge of Allegiance is a model of concise English that captures the meaning and spirit of our country in just 31 words. The words grew out of a meeting of five men - four state superintendents of education and Francis Bellamy, editorial staff member of YOUTH'S COMPANION. They sought a program to commemorate the 400th anniversary of Columbus Day. In August of 1892, Bellamy wrote the pledge. It was published in the YOUTH'S COMPANION, September 8, 1892. Unfortunately, it also became the center of a heated controversy that lasted almost 50 years. The family of James B. Upham, who was also connected with the YOUTH'S COMPANION, claimed that he was the real author of the pledge and went to great lengths to establish that claim. In 1939, the United States Flag Association appointed a committee to determine the authorship of the pledge. "After weighing all evidence they decided that Mr. Bellamy was unquestionably the author." Except for three changes, the Pledge stands as originally penned. In 1923, the words "the flag of the United States" were substituted for "my flag"; in 1924 the words "of America" were added. Finally, President Eisenhower, in 1954, added the words "under God." THE TRUE FABRIC OF THE FLAG Though the salute and pledge take place countless times in countless classrooms, no single American school child can be forced to do either. For years, state legislators and educators tried to make these acts compulsory, and even passed laws and instituted rules to that effect. For a time, their actions were upheld by the United States Supreme Court. But then on June 14, 1943, the Supreme Court, in a 6 to 3 vote, reversed its earlier decisions. Among the many statements written by the Court in handing down its decision was this by Justice Jackson: "If there is any fixed star in our constitutional constellation it is that no official, high or petty, can prescribe what shall be orthodox in politics, nationalism, religion or other matters of opinion or force citizens to confess by word or act their faith thereto." In short, those liberties for which the early colonists fought were the REAL substance of the flag. Compulsory recitation was a denial of the Pledge itself. It seems most fitting that this ruling came when the country itself was at war with tyranny abroad. While other banners were being used to bend people's will to the wishes of a few, the Stars and Stripes was reaffirmed as the symbol of individual liberty. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 53 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 A FLAG THAT RAISED A NATION Geographically, Iwo Jima is an unlikely dot of land to be immortalized. Yet atop the island's Mount Surabachi was raised a Stars and Stripes that would speak as eloquently as any, past or future, of the valor of our fighting men and the price Americans are willing to pay to preserve the freedom and dignity of men everywhere. The battle of Iwo was one of the fiercest our nation ever fought. Three divisions of Marines were pitted against 23,000 Japanese defenders. The first objective was Surabachi, whose 550 foot height commanded the entire island. It took four days to conquer that summit. When it was finally reached an unknown Marine scrambled up the slopes with the colors tied to a Japanese iron pipe to signal others still fighting that this victory had been won. AP photographer, Joe Rosenthal, spotted the six Marines raising the eight-foot flag and took the now-famous photograph. The fight for Iwo Jima cost more than 4,000 American lives, including three of the six men involved in the Surabachi flag raising. Rosenthal's photograph captured their valor and love for the flag, and thereby the hearts and minds of America. THE 30-SECOND FLAG Some time ago senators and congressmen, anxious to do something special for the groups before whom they spoke, ceremoniously presented a flag that had "flown over the Capitol of the United States." That practice gained popularity. In 1971, 27,659 such flags were presented; in 1972, an election year, more than 32,000. These are not the same as the huge flag that flies day and night atop the giant staff above the Capitol. They are instead 3 x 5-foot or 5 x 8-foot flags that are raised on three smaller, nearby poles. Some have flown not more than 30 seconds. But they are properly raised, lowered, folded, boxed and certified as having flown above the Capitol. As might be expected, requests are heaviest for flags that have flown on national holidays or special occasions. Fourth of July and Flag Day lead in popularity. Elections and Pearl Harbor are close. Apollo missions also result in large numbers of requests for these flags. The cost? While the people who carry out the flag raisings are on the Federal payroll, the costs involved for the flag, the ceremony, certification and mailing are borne by the individual senators and congressmen, or by their constituents. THE DILEMMA OF DESECRATION In the mid 1960`s, the flag was to face some of its most trying challenges. Aroused by both domestic and foreign issues, some Americans denounced, burned, defaced and subjected the flag to other acts of contempt. On April 21, 1969, the Supreme Court held that the First Amendment's free speech clause forbids punishing Americans denouncing the flag in words. The Court did not act, however, on the question of physical desecration. Here, the existing Federal laws and those of the 50 states and the District of Columbia still apply. These laws vary considerably and are seldom enforced. The Federal Flag Law carries penalties of up to one year in prison and a maximum fine of $1,000. State laws have a wide range which range from minor NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 54 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 penalties, to Texas', which can lead to a 25-year prison sentence. In some nations, desecration of the flag is regarded as treason. But Americans hesitate to carry out punishment, believing with one Congressman who suggested that the foundations of the country are not so weak that they cannot withstand the burning of a flag. Instead they respond in what may be a peculiarly American pattern: for every American who desecrates a flag, many others raise theirs higher. A NEW LIFE FOR OLD GLORIES As a child i England, Amelia Bold Fowler showed a remarkable skill for embroidery. She came to the U.S., married, but was soon widowed and faced with supporting two small children. Teaching embroidery was her answer. She opened a studio in 1896 - at a time when the practice of painting flags was giving way to embroidering them. Admiral Cole of the Naval Academy asked her to make a Stars and Stripes. In five days it was done, and Amelia was established as a flag maker. One day at the Hall of Flags in Massachusetts, Amelia noted the deteriorating condition of historic flags on display. She remembered a 1000-year-old tapestry she had seen in perfect condition in Bayeux, France. She went there, studied, found the "secret", and developed a method of restoration for which she was granted a U.S. patent. Within a short time, she and a staff of more than 40 were continuously engaged in giving new life to the great military banners. In 1914 she was asked to restore the Star Spangled Banner. With her 10 best craftswomen, Amelia worked more than eight weeks to restore the banner now hanging in the Smithsonian Institution. Since Amelia's time, better methods of preservation have been developed. The method considered best today is the one developed in Sweden by Baron Cederstrom in the 1920's. THE FINAL PATTERN It would have appeared after 1818 that the design of the Stars and Stripes had been resolved. The fixing of the stripes at 13 and adding a star for each new state, adopted by Congress on April 4, 1818, seemed specific enough. But not so for the ingenious and individualistic Americans. Flags of all varieties continued to be flown, even above the Capitol itself. Stars were arranged in rows, in circles, as one large star with many stars within, around an anchor and many other patterns. Some showed seven white stripes and six red; others the reverse. Stars had five, six and seven points. In 1837, the confusion was so great that Holland prompted its representatives to ask precisely what the American flag looked like so they could recognize it and avoid any breach of international etiquette. Despite the confusion, it was not until 1912 - with Europe simmering toward war - that it became expedient to decide precisely what our flag would look like. On October 29, 1912, President Taft signed an executive order - No. 1637 - detailing our flag design - pattern and shape of stars, number of red and white stripes, ratio of length to width, the relative sizes and position of all elements. That order has become the basis of the specifications for the flag we know today. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 55 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 MADE IN THE U.S.A. In the almost 200 years since the first flag was made there's been a curious turnabout that seems to reflect our "Yankee ingenuity" and dedication to doing things better. During Colonial times no one in America had the know-how or machinery to produce flag bunting. For almost 90 years, American flags were made of foreign bunting, and were hand-stitched. It was not until February, 1866, that an American-made flag flew over the Capitol in Washington. Since that time countless flags of all sizes have been made and sold in America. Each holiday or special occasion finds Americans flying their flags. One of the oldest American flag makers is reported to make more than 25,000,000 flags each year. But it is not only the American flag that Yankee looms and machines make. Whereas two centuries ago the infant U.S. went abroad to insure that its flags were "the finest that could be made," today the flags of more than 150 countries are "Made in the U.S.A." IN SEARCH OF THE STARS On Sunday afternoon, July 20, 1969, Apollo XI brought men to the surface of the moon. In the time-honored tradition of explorers, they carried with them the flag of their country. That flag is there now, braced by a wire spring to keep it unfurled on the windless moon. There will be no legends about the maker of the flag. Manufacturers' names were deliberately removed. Nor is there any attempt to take a singular honor or derive special gain for that flag from this greatest of man's scientific achievements. A simple plaque near it reads: "Here men from the planet Earth first set foot on the moon. July 1969 A.D. We came in peace for all mankind." Future historians may wonder how it came to be that one of Earth's youngest nations was able in less than 200 years to take man from the saddle of a horse and start him on a journey to the stars. The answer is in the stars of its flag - each a story of men seeking to be free and freely joining others to create "under God" a constellation as bright and lasting as any in the firmament. STATES BY ORDER OF RATIFICATION OR ADMISSION Delaware . . . . . . . . . . December 7, 1787 Pennsylvania . . . . . . . . December 12, 1787 New Jersey . . . . . . . . . December 18, 1787 Georgia . . . . . . . . . . January 2, 1788 Connecticut . . . . . . . . January 9, 1788 Massachusetts . . . . . . . February 6, 1788 Maryland . . . . . . . . . . April 28, 1788 South Carolina . . . . . . . May 23, 1788 New Hampshire . . . . . . . June 21, 1788 Virginia . . . . . . . . . . June 25, 1788 New York . . . . . . . . . . July 26, 1788 North Carolina . . . . . . . November 21, 1789 NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 56 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Rhode Island . . . . . . . . May 29, 1790 Vermont . . . . . . . . . . March 4, 1791 Kentucky . . . . . . . . . . June 1, 1792 Tennessee . . . . . . . . . June 1, 1796 Ohio . . . . . . . . . . . . March 1, 1803 Louisiana . . . . . . . . . April 30, 1812 Indiana . . . . . . . . . . December 11, 1816 Mississippi . . . . . . . . December 10, 1817 Illinois . . . . . . . . . . December 3, 1818 Alabama . . . . . . . . . . December 14, 1819 Maine . . . . . . . . . . . March 15, 1820 Missouri . . . . . . . . . . August 10, 1821 Arkansas . . . . . . . . . . June 15, 1836 Michigan . . . . . . . . . . January 26, 1837 Florida . . . . . . . . . . March 3, 1845 Texas . . . . . . . . . . . December 29, 1845 Iowa . . . . . . . . . . . . December 28, 1846 Wisconsin . . . . . . . . . May 29, 1848 California . . . . . . . . . September 9, 1850 Minnesota . . . . . . . . . May 11, 1858 Oregon . . . . . . . . . . . February 14, 1859 Kansas . . . . . . . . . . . January 29, 1861 West Virginia . . . . . . . June 20, 1863 Nevada . . . . . . . . . . . October 31, 1864 Nebraska . . . . . . . . . . March 1, 1867 Colorado . . . . . . . . . . August 1, 1876 North Dakota . . . . . . . . November 2, 1889 South Dakota . . . . . . . . November 2, 1889 Montana . . . . . . . . . . November 8, 1889 Washington . . . . . . . . . November 11, 1889 Idaho . . . . . . . . . . . July 3, 1890 Wyoming . . . . . . . . . . July 10, 1890 Utah . . . . . . . . . . . . January 4, 1896 Oklahoma . . . . . . . . . . November 16, 1907 New Mexico . . . . . . . . . January 6, 1912 Arizona . . . . . . . . . . February 14, 1912 Alaska . . . . . . . . . . . January 3, 1959 Hawaii . . . . . . . . . . . August 21, 1959 NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 57 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 WAR By: Karen A. Winnett S.I.R.E.N. IS CALLING Sacramento, CA (916) 971-0589 The dreams all come more gently now and tears fall only rare, as faded names go marching past, as ghosts with war I shared. Silent soldiers, battle red, who hardly knew my name, walking wounded, walking dead just barely now remain. That nightmare army, dressed in columns rowed, with names long lost, yet they became my soul! The screams of triumph and the hushed songs of pain, on sleepless nights, caress me now, a soft and silent rain. I wander to a dreaming place where once I feared to know, and night by night, a warrior lives, one pain less to go. The stench of death on killing grounds a long time far away, the sweet smell of death in quiet arms, also far misplaced. Midnight whispers, where has time gone and is this really peace, the pain slips away and yet I cry for those lost in the sleep. With the rise of each new sun, I retreat back to the rear, and with the fall of each new moon, less and less, I fear. A young Marine, with old combat eyes, leads me to the light, though I lost him, within my helpless arms, I hear him, Semper Fi! So much forgotten, so much remains, but the dreams now slip away, and more and more, I look towards now, as the ghosts stand at parade. For we that fell and we that fought and we who dressed the wounds, the time has come to leave the fire , and return back to the womb. And somehow now, I start to grow and though tomorrow hides unknown, the dreams come much more gently now and I think I am almost home! NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 58 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 The "OLD GLORY" Story By: Jim Hildwine NAM VET's Federal Benefits Editor Washington Zephyr BBS (703) 620-5418 To veterans througout American history, The Stars and Stripes has served as a symbol of their service, and as a continuing testimony that the service was worth-while. Since many flags of early America contained stripes in their design and several others had star devices, there are varying accounts of when and where the first Stars and Stripes was flown. Flag history experts agree, however, that the first Stars and Stripes flag to have the general form we recogzize today did not appear unitl the summer of 1777, when the Continental Congress formally resolved "That the flag of the United States be 13 stripes, alternated red and white, and the union be 13 white stars in a field of blue representing a new constellation." Interestingly, the Congress did not specify the arrangement or shape of the stars, the direction of the stripes, or the relative size of the various components. Consequenty, military units and civilian public alike flew a confusing array of local, state, and home-made interpretations of the congressional flag description. It was not until 1912 that the flag was finally assured a uniform appearance, when President Taft signed an executive order prescribing the relative size, shape and posting of the flag's components. A subject of almost as much debate as the shape and design of the flag has been the question of how and when to disply the Stars and Stripes. Since 1942, when a law was first enacted to govern actual display of the flag, the guiding statement has been that the flag should be flown on "days when weather permits." The generally accepted interpretation was that the colors could be shown only between sunrise and sundown, and , even then, not during inclement weather. Growing seniment that "Old Glory" should be kept flying irrespective of darkness and foul weather culminated in 1976, when President Ford signed legislation providing that: "When a patriotic effect is desired, the flag may be displayed twenty- four hours a day if properly illuminated during hours of darkness." The new law also permits the Stars and Stripes to remain flying through inclement weather when a flag of all-weather materials is used. In addition to its historical significance for permitting the national colors to remain aloft indefinitely for patriotic effect, the 1976 legislation may be remembered for giving to "Old Glory." The new flag code contains the provision that: "The Flag represents a loving country and is itself considered a living thing." NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 59 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 60 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 A Different Battlefield by G. Joseph Peck NAM VETs Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 A short while ago I thought I'd visit my old home town. "Bert" -- the 35-inch-plus smallmouth bass, was still reported to be in the pond I used to fish before I joined the service. Patches of snow dotted the mountainside near the pond and occasionally the sound of a moving automobile on the highway far below would disturb the silence. Barren trees, somehow vaguely reminiscent of a faraway jungle, stood careful watch over the now-empty, century-and-a-half old, two-story farmhouse where I once lived. Truly, this IS "America the Beautiful". The entire town still looked the same. Even the new supermarket - built to replace the Country Store after it burned awhile ago - retained a familiar look. "Funny," I thought, "How the supermarket and I are somewhat alike: older, yet new; still a part of this Town. We bring our experiences to town under an accepted, familiar covering and help it grow." The train of thought steered my thinking to the college I was attending, colleges I had read about, and colleges the news media had mentioned over the past few years. Something had begun to disturb me. In this solitude, this peace and beautiful quiet, could I find out what it might be? A huge, dark form moved through the waters below me, and the hint of a problem began to crystallize into recognizable form. Proud and patriotic Patrick Henry once said: "Give me liberty or give me death!" Over the last few years, from campus to campus across this great nation of ours, lurking between studies of calculus, psychology, and business management, and concealed in the midst of classes in Political Science and Saturday night parties, hidden - yet clearly evident - in the nonexistent studies of Military Strategy and Intelligent Counterinsurgency, a new, not-too-cryptic version of his statement has filtered the air and can be faintly heard with an almost-cowardly, almost-un-American sound: "Give me liberty and all the things that loyalty and freedom can buy; give me a chance to be all that I can be, but DON'T, in any way, ask me to physically defend this country's precious principles, and please, DON'T give me death.! For example . . . A few months ago, startling many students (and sending one hurriedly home to protect his family), a military medevac helicopter slowly descended upon a local college campus while, almost simultaneously, representatives of the U.S. Military began arriving in jeeps, a semitrailer, and an ambulance with a big red cross painted on the side of NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 61 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 it. Armed Forces Open House day was about to begin - but not without conflict! Across the open-air quad in which the event was being held, with a fervor and actions that would have been admirable on any battlefield, many members of the campus group of Conscientious Objectors (C.O.'s) were busy corralling passersby, handing them a printed page, and trying to impress upon them their feelings that involvement in any form with the present U.S. Military is wrong (Imagine, if you will, what would have happened had there been a "counter-Open House" presented by the C.O.'s and, during the event, representatives from the various military branches actively attempted to recruit new personnel for their services.) "Where my feelings THEN, feelings of anger? Did I want to forcibly remove the C.O.'s from the Armed Forces Open House?" I thought, "Have I learned anything from our country's involvement with 'Nam? Do these people, many of whom haven't even SEEN a rifle - let alone used it to defend themselves, have ANY idea of the price of freedom?" The thoughts of moments past came flooding back into my mind: "...older - yet new; still a part of this ... We bring our experiences... under an accepted, familiar covering and help it grow." There on a mountaintop in my old home town, fishing line vanishing into the dark-green pond world of the "Bert's" and others like him, I came to realize that, for the American soldier, the battle for Liberty and Freedom isn't just in another country, isn't always a battle conducted with physically damaging weapons. The "battlefield" and "weapons" change. Sometimes it is "silence - no matter how much another course of action is desired" that will prove the true exercise of Freedom, allowing others to be free. A tug on my line! Was it Bert? Or could it have been the thought: "Freedom - is not without costs, not without constant awareness, and, most assuredly, not a one-way street!" NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 62 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 HOMECOMING III by G. Joseph Peck NAM VETs Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 Silvery waters and a big yellow moon I'll be home friend, home very soon. I have seen the wars Watched other men die . . . Held their pain-wracked bodies Their existence - GONE in a sigh. A tear, a hug, a long last look "Hold my hand... read me the Book" ... and LIFE slips away. Who did they cry for with their last look at Earth? Who will miss them - and what's it worth? What's it worth when men fight and die, Never wanting to - never really knowing why? What's it worth when the bombs fall, Not killing one - but killing all: Newborn children, sisters and brothers Happy families - fathers and mothers? ... and LIFE slips away. So loudly that you, too must hear Those battlefield cries ring in my ear: "Rivers of white. Rivers of red. How hard we fought - how freely we bled! We gave 'em all that we had We fought for the good - not for the bad; So that children could grow to be old, Never going hungry - never being cold, For Tomorrow - America - promises that are true For Love - for Freedom - and especially YOU!!!" ... and LIFE slips away. An American Soldier From one battlefield I am free. I watch ... and remember: " Eternal Vigilance . . . " . . . the PRICE of Liberty!" NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 63 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= V e t e r a n s ' B e n e f i t s ================================================================= VETERANS APPEALS COURT SEEKS HOME, PROCEDURAL RULE Input By: Jim Hildwine NAM VET's Federal Benefits Editor Washington Zephyr BBS (703) 620-5418 The U.S. Court of Veterans Appeals officially opened Oct 16, but its fledgling staff has much work to do before considering its first case. The tasks range from finding a permanent home to devising the procedural rules that will guide its decisions, said Chief Judge Frank Nebeker. It is a challenge that convinced Nebeker to join the court "I didn't know it existed when I was asked in February to serve. But I knew I wanted the challenge of putting a court together that has no antecedent -- not only the administrative aspects but also to establish a brand new body of law by which the court and those concerned with veterans affairs are to be governed, he said. Congress established the court last year as the first judicial body to review Veterans Affairs Department claims decisions, prior to that, the last avenue of appeal for veterans was through the Board of Veteran Appeals, an arm of the VA. In 1988, 60 percent of veterans who appealed to the board lost their claims decision. Creation of the court ended years of fighting among veterans groups congressional committees and the VA over the question of judicial review. "Congress thought that by keeping [review] on an informal basis and non-adverserial, it would help veterans," said Williams Rehnquist, chief justice of the U.S. at the opening ceremony for the court. But the system effectively denied veterans their due process rights and Congress decided in establishing the court. "We have nothing, no antecedent. We're starting from scratch" said Nebeker, who continued to serve as director of the Office of Government Ethics just one week before the court made its debut. Nebeker, a former associate judge with the District of Columbia court of Appeals, spent the summer trying to find permanent offices for the court in Washington DC. "I was out pounding the pavement looking for space, and in government warehouses looking for furniture," he said. Nebeker's search is made more difficult by the court's unique need for a room with at least a 15-foot ceiling, a tradition in federal courts. "That a big problem; it adds to the cost" he said. The court is temporarily located at 1625 K Street, N.W, where the ethics office was headquartered until April. Within five years, Nebeker would like to see the court housed in its own building. He is working with a city planning commission to see if the court can obtain some space in a federal complex being built on Pennsylvania Avenue. The rules used by the court will mirror those used by other appeals courts, but some procedures must be specifically tailored to its claimants -- the veterans -- Nebeker said. "We need to decide how someone files a paper in the court. You could file it in person, but veterans aren't here in NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 64 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Washington. "Should it be filed by mail and by what time? Should the deadline be at the time received by the court or when it is postmarked? And what if the paper comes from a private courier?" he said. Nebeker said he has received funding to take the court on the road, to areas where veterans have filed many claims. But, he's not sure how such hearing would work. Prior to the legislation establishing the court, veterans were prohibited from hiring attorneys. An 1863 law prevented veterans from paying more then $10 to a lawyer. So veterans turned to service organizations for legal representation. The Court of Veterans Appeals will continue to allow service organizations to represent veterans. "Our bar will not only be lawyers, but also non-lawyer representatives," Nebeker said. And some type of certification process must be developed to insure those representatives and lawyers are qualified, Nebeker said. Nebeker must also recruit a staff of 75 which he hopes will be composed of people with experience in court administration. The court expects to handle 5,000 appeals per year, a caseload which Nebeker said is heavier then any other appellate body in the country, except New York's appellate court. To manage the load as efficiently as possible, the staff must be able to use the most modern case management techniques, he said. Nebeker said every veteran who exhausts administrative review of his or her claim will "GET THEIR DAY IN COURT" but their cases may not actually be argued before the panel. Instead, many may require screening and review by the judges and their law clerks in order for a decision to be reached. Any veteran who filed a notice of disagreement with the federal ruling on or after Nov. 18, 1988 is eligible for a hearing before the court. The court is accepting those claims now. Arguments on any claim will not take place before 1 Jan, he said. The president may nominate up to seven judges to sit on the court for 15 year terms, but only two besides Nebeker have been appointed so far. Kenneth Kramer is a Harvard law graduate and former member of Congress from Colorado, who most recently served as an assistant secretary in the Army. John J. Farley II, was Justice Department Administrator. SYNOPSIS OF APPEAL AND ATTORNEY FEE PROVISIONS OF THE VETERANS JUDICIAL REVIEW ACT. Judicial review of individual claims for benefits A person adversely affected by the decision of the Board of Veterans Appeals (BVA) may obtain judicial review by filing a notice of appeal with the Court of Veterans Appeals (CVA) within 120 days after the date of the BVA decision; The CVA, based in the District of Columbia, will have exclusive jurisdiction to review BVA decisions; it is scheduled to commence operations on September 1, 1989, or when 3 judges have been appointed, whichever comes later; There is as yet no mailing address for the CVA, and no rules of practice have been issued to govern procedural matters. The Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) will not be permitted to appeal BVA decisions; NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 65 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Judicial review by the CVA will be on the record of proceedings before VA; The BVA's finding of fact will be subject to the "clearly erroneous" standard of review, and the CVA will also review conclusions of law; VA will be represented by General Counsel in the CVA: An attorney or other representative must file a copy of any fee agreement with the CVA, which will have authority to review the reasonableness of such fee; Judicial review in the CVA is available only to persons who file a notice of disagreement with the agency of original jurisdiction on or after the date of enactment of the Act, i.e., November 18, 1988. FEE FOR REPRESENTATION BEFORE VA No fee may be paid to an attorney or agent for representation of a claimant or appellant before VA prior to an initial decision by the BVA on the matter at issue; Subsequent to a decision of the BVA, a reasonable fee may be paid to an attorney or agent for representation before VA on the matter at issue, if the attorney or agent is retained within one year of the BVA decision; An Attorney or agent must file a copy of any fee agreement with the BVA and the BVA will have authority to reduce such fee if found to be excessive or unreasonable, subject to CVA review; VA will deduct a contingent fee from past-due benefits and, upon approving the fee, pay it to the attorney or agent if the fee does not exceed 20 percent of the amount of past due benefits; Violation of the attorney and agent fee provisions will be a misdemeanor; The new attorney and agent fee provisions apply only to situations in which the notice of disagreement is filed on or after the date of enactment of the Act, i.e. November 18, 1988. APPELLATE REVIEW OF CVA DECISIONS U.S. Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit will have exclusive jurisdiction of appeals from CVA; The court of Appeals may review conclusions of law, but may not review findings of fact, except for constitutional facts; Either party may appeal a CVA decision to the Court of Appeals. JUDICIAL REVIEW OF VA REGULATIONS AND GENERAL COUNSEL OPINIONS An aggrieved person may seek direct judicial review of VA rules and regulations in the United States Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit, under chapter 7 of the Administrative procedure Act. AVAILABILITY OF THE VETERANS JUDICIAL REVIEW ACT To obtain Public Law No. 100-687, contact: Superintendent of Documents Congressional Sales Office U.S. Government Printing Office Washington DC 20402 Enclose a check or money order for $1.25 per copy, payable to "Superintendent of Documents." NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 66 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= A g e n t O r a n g e ================================================================= November 6, 1989 From: Martin H. Kroll Rt. 7 Box 7702 Chatsworth, Ga. 30705 To: Honorable George Bush President of the United States of America The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Ave Washington, D.C. 20500 Dear Mr. Bush, I am writing this letter to you in behalf of all Viet Nam Veterans, their spouses, and their children. Ironically, this letter is also in behalf of all citizens of the United States of America as well as the United States Government. To get right to the point, Agent Orange is what is on our minds. I am a Viet Nam Veteran that volunteered for service in the Army on May 1st, 1966. I went to Nam without question, completed my three year period of active duty and was honorably discharged. I came home to face discrimination, denials from the government about Agent Orange, and to fight a long twenty year battle to get where I am and it has been uphill all the way. To be quite frank....I am DISGUSTED with the way our Government has handled the Agent Orange issue! Mr. Bush, I have followed your Vice Presidency, your campaign for President, and your first months in office as President of the greatest nation on the face of this earth. I am convinced that you care about people. I am convinced that you will do whatever is within your power to help those who are in need. I am convinced that I am writing this letter to the right person. I will not waste your valuable time with statistics pertaining to amounts of Agent Orange and "other" chemicals sprayed in Viet Nam, toxicity levels, abnormally high rates of cancer among Viet Nam Veterans, etc. You have access to all of those and you are aware of the problems just as well as almost everyone else in this country. Veterans have suffered physically and emotionally for twenty years and still have very few answers and no compensation for being exposed to Agent Orange. This is not to say that we feel that the Government owes us a "cushy" retirement or lump sum settlement for our ills. We do feel that the Government owes us a much better explanation as to how our lives and health can be affected and the assurance that no matter what, our health needs will be taken care of. Many Veterans have given up on the system and others are turning radical. They view the Veteran's Administration as their enemy! Viet Nam Veterans have now come of age and are gaining more and more publicity as each day goes by. As the government continues to whittle away at GI benefits and refuses to give the NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 67 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 care to Viet Nam Veterans that is long past due, the public sentiment continues to shift towards the Veterans. Can this be healthy for our great nation? I don't think so. After seeing how Veterans have been treated, what young man would want to volunteer to go to South America if the need arose? What kind of morale would the armed forces have if the draft were reinstated? What kind of effectiveness could we expect from soldiers who know very well how things have gone for the Viet Nam Veterans? Mr. Bush, I am no expert on public relations, but I feel that you can do very much to restore faith in our Government and pride to our Veterans. Let's face it, were it not for our Veterans of all wars, this nation would not be the great nation it has become. I recall seeing a statistic lately that says that one out of every six home mortgages is guaranteed by the Veterans Administration. This would indicate to me that the Veterans of this country could truly be a political force to have on your side. Members of Congress want a pay raise. Let them earn it by paying a long overdue debt to our Viet Nam Veterans. We realize that running our Government is no easy job with the budget and national debt being what it is but we also know that the government cannot continue to drag it's feet on the issue of Agent Orange. The class action lawsuit and settlement was nothing but a class action joke! We were sold out on that one for sure. One hundred and eighty million dollars sounds like a lot of money on the surface. The fact is that it would not even begin to pay for just an initial physical examination if divided equally among all the Viet Nam Veterans that were exposed to Agent Orange, much less pay for any treatment. To top it all off, the chemical companies involved are now absolved and didn't even have to admit any guilt. I received my Agent Orange Registry kit yesterday and it says "You must be totally disabled to apply for benefits under this program." I applied to the VA in 1972 for service connected skin conditions related to Agent Orange. Of course my claim was denied. What is the Government going to do for us Veterans that are not totally disabled, but our lives and health never-the-less affected by exposure to Agent Orange while serving in Viet Nam? I wish that we had all the answers to make things right, but unfortunately we do not. We do however have some suggestions that could go a long way toward making things better. First, and most importantly is the health care issue. Health care does not do a bit of good if no one knows what they are entitled to. We feel that the Government should not only provide Agent Orange related health care, but should initiate a "MASSIVE" publicity campaign via television, radio, newspapers, and magazines to make certain that every single Viet Nam Veteran, their spouses, and their children know that they have not been forgotten and that they may obtain proper evaluation and treatment. Make every effort to reach all Veterans that served in Viet Nam. Many Veterans would like some sort of compensation for "pain and suffering" due to exposure to Agent Orange. This is a just request considering not only the adverse affects to our health and lives, but also that our Government and the chemical companies are quick to rush off to compensate almost everyone around the globe except our Veterans. We could cite cases but that is not really necessary either. We realize that it would take a staggering NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 68 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 amount of money to compensate Viet Nam Veterans and we really do not want to deal a fatal blow to our Treasury Department, but there is a way that it can be done. Exempt Viet Nam Veterans from a fair percentage of their Federal Withholding taxes and encourage the States to follow suit! In a year that Congress again seeks a pay raise that is larger than most Veterans earn in a year this would seem like a good idea. This would also increase the Veteran's income substantially, would be much easier for the Government to handle, would help to restore faith in our system, and would help to boost the morale of our armed forces and veterans. Think about this one.......... The effects could be far ranging! You, I, and everyone else knows that Veterans have been severely shortchanged. Isn't it time that something is done to rectify this situation? Will you try to do whatever you can to help our Veterans? Are you the man that can get the job done? This letter will be published in the NamVet International newsletter, Veteran's Day issue, and anywhere else that we can get it published. We feel that not enough has been done and our goal is to get answers and action on the Agent Orange issue. We would like to be able to publish your reply also. Respectfully, Martin H. Kroll P.S. I have a small wager with a friend. He says that you will never see this letter personally, that you won't reply, and my time and efforts are wasted. Do I win or lose? NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 69 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Let me tell you where I've been An interview by Janice Rogovin Input by: G. Joseph Peck NAM VETs Managing Editor Vetlink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 Thomas J. Murphy III: I joined the Marine Corps when I was eighteen. I went to Vietnam twice, once in the latter part of 1966 and again in 1969. I'm proud of it. That's about it. It's something to be proud of. Back at that time, anybody could join the Marine Corps but not anybody could be a Marine Corps sergeant at the age of twenty. I was the youngest platoon sergeant in the whole regiment. Sometimes that was good, but whenever there was a dirty job to do, I was the one they picked. I wanted to be good. I wanted to make a career out of it. I didn't want to be a private and scrub floors, or do shitty jobs. I wanted to be a sergeant telling privates to do that. I just worked extra hours. I was always up a half hour early to get squared away. I learned how to read a map and compass in Boy Scouts, and that's what really allowed me to go up in rank. And I studied like heck. The only way to get it is to earn it. I didn't have to brown-nose anybody. I got shot on a night ambush, nine times. I laid there for a long time. An Army M.A.S.H. unit finally picked us up. I remember waking up with a tracheotomy and a machine allowing me to breathe. Then they transferred me to Japan to two different hospitals. I got hurt October 4th, 1969 and I arrived in the United States on Halloween night. When I got to Chelsea Naval Hospital, they took off my body cast and weighed me - I only weighed eighty-five pounds. I had a colostomy, and there were hundreds of maggots all over the place. I remember when they were taking it off, one of the nurses saying, "Oh, no," and then running out to throw up. Then they gave me an injection and I went back to sleep. That ended it. They retired me. I got the same medals as everybody else got so no big thing. I wasn't a hero or anything. I hadn't had time to stand out as one. If I didn't get hurt the second time I probably would have went back to Vietnam the third time. I'm an American. My family's made up of veterans. Remember Vic Morrow and the TV show "Combat" that used to be on Thursday nights? He was my hero. He's what I wanted to become. And I did. I was quite proud of that. I reached his rank and even had more responsibility than he did. But he had fights every week, big battles, and we only had them, if we were lucky, maybe once a month. To somebody sitting a hundred miles away we were just a pawn on a big board and he was moving us along. They'd tell us to climb a hill and check it out, and we'd sit down and take our packs off and rest and five minutes later they'd tell us to put our packs back on and walk down the hill and walk up another one. I used to feel useless and tired. Since then I've spend about six years total in and out of the VA hospital. I've had about 154 operations. Even though I had a bum leg, and a bum insides, it didn't stop me from doing the things that I liked doing. I've traveled around the world. I've lived in South America, I've lived in Central America. I was going to settle in Central America, but changed my mind at the NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 70 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 last second because I met June. She is my second wife. I married her in 1981. Then last November I noticed a little pea-sized growth coming from my left buttocks into my anal area. I didn't do anything about it until after Christmas, because my son Tommy from a previous marriage was coming down for the holidays. Right after the holidays June insisted that I go to a doctor. I did. It turned out to be malignant. They gave me what the doctor said is the largest dose of chemotherapy that he's ever given. It was a triple dose. It made me very ill. For months its taken away the feeling in my feet and my fingers - I have a hard time writing. And now I'm having radiation and my bottom is fire-engine red from burns. It really really hurts. I think it's terminal and I'm going to die. It's not a morbid attitude. It comes from reading about what I have. I figure I got cancer from being in an area while they were spraying Agent Orange. There were always planes going over. I remember once a lieutenant told us that they were going to spray something to take the bush down, so that we could see the enemy. Or it could have been from drinking the water, we drank water right out of the stream. I'm really angry that I survived getting shot nine times, having all those operations, spending a sixth of my life in the hospital, and now I might die because of a chemical. And I'm angry that I got cancer from something that Dow Chemical made that was supposed to protect us but was misused. A lot of literature I read says we oversprayed. One other thing I'm really vexed at, all this money that Dow Chemical and the other chemical companies gave out, out of it I was told that I'm only going to get $12,500. In retrospect, I think the war was politically motivated. The chemical companies made a lot of money, the oil companies made a lot of money. And I don't think you should fight a war unless you're going to win it. The United States of America is good for a lot of things, they've just got to have another revolution. Let people with open minds revamp the government. Start with the VA. I'm angry at the VA for not taking proper care of us in the hospital. I'm angry that they used me as a guinea pig. I'm angry about Vietnam but please don't misconstrue this. I'm not against the war in Vietnam. I'm angry that they had me so brainwashed, ever since I was a little boy, that I would automatically be one of the first ones down at the recruiting station. There was never a doubt about joining the marines. But I thought we were going to win. And I really think we could have won. All we had to do was get mad at the enemy instead of trying to have all those talks with them. And I'm really shocked at the way we treat Vietnamese people here. These people that live here weren't our enemies. They were our allies. We made them promises up and down and then we just left them. That's the reason June and I would like to adopt a Vietnamese or Cambodian child. It would be nice to have a little boy or girl around the house. Someone who we can help nurture, grow, and someone who we can help expand their minds, and reach their potential in life. I really believe that we owe them. Even Americans that were against the war. I think they should adopt these people too. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 71 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 We're known for our humanity here in America. We're not showing it. JUNE MURPHY I thought at first that Tom was a hopeless alcoholic, then I thought that Tom was hopelessly mean and manipulative. It took me years to understand that he was living with this war. We were married in March 1981 in San Antonio. By September we were separated. There have been a lot of separations. The first time was when we were driving somewhere one day, he gave me a black eye. He'd been drinking and he was angry about the war. I don't remember what but something about Vietnam and the VA. He'd just been to the VA in San Antonio. He was livid with rage. We separated and stayed in touch. We knew we were in love with each other but we were both afraid of Tom's rage. We didn't know what to call it then. Tom felt that he didn't have a chance to do anything with his life because of Vietnam. He wanted to go to school and there was some snafu about the paperwork. He was very angry. And he was angry because he'd go to the VA hospital for treatment and there'd be red tape. Almost anything would set him off in those days. I felt that I had to leave for my own safety. Tom was irrational, he was drinking almost all the time and very, very depressed. I think rage was more of a companion to him than I was. It was like being married to rage and anger and bitterness. We were going to get a divorce and we seemed to be on friendly terms. We seemed to have accepted it, that our marriage was not to be. We could get along for short periods of time until an episode of anger would come up. But all of that seemed not to matter anymore when I heard that he was sick. I was in the process of moving to Tallahassee, Florida, where my sister lived, and looking for a job. I called him on his birthday and that's when I heard he had to have the biopsy. He asked me to come the following Monday and I really had mixed feelings about it. I was trying to put our relationship in the past but I couldn't do it anymore. I went back to him because I loved him. In the two years that we were apart I never stopped loving him. I just knew that he had to deal with some things before I could live with him in peace. The only way that I could take care of Tom and retain some or most of my sanity was just to love him and remember that it might not be easy but he's worth it. I think that Tom's life has meant something to other veterans and to other people in general. He has a real tenacious spirit. I think I would have given up a long time ago. It's been hell seeing him suffer and feeling there's so little I can do. But the main thing I can do is love him and comfort him. that's something I can do instead of focusing on what I can't do. I think that there's a sense of doing what's right, and expecting that you won't necessarily be rewarded, but that there will be an outcome that will be fair and just and right. Because that's the way it is. But it wasn't that way. There's no sense of fairness, no meaning, no happy ending. I guess maybe some of the people in ur generation expected that there'd be a happy ending, and there wasn't one. There was no closure to it. We had talked about adopting for awhile, but we've never really gotten our act together enough to do that. We had talked about adopting a Vietnamese or Cambodian child. For myself, there's a NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 72 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 special feeling about a Cambodian or Vietnamese child. My heart goes out to them, and I don't think of them as the enemy or as someone to be shuffled off. It would complete it for me, because of what Tom has been through. And I'm not able to have children. It would be a good thing to do. It would keep a certain spirit alive. And it would say, it's okay. This is over, and this is how we go on with life. JANICE ROGOVIN Tom Murphy was with Charlie Company, First Battalion, Fourth Marines, from the latter part of 1966 until 1967, in the Dong Ha area. During his second tour in Vietnam in 1969, Tom was with the same company but was transferred from the Third to the First Marine Division in the southern part of the country. Tom was wounded in Vietnam in October 1969. He was sent back to the States and from October 1969 until May 1971, he was in the hospital. First he was told that he didn't have very long to live, then, that he would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, and that he would never be able to have children. When Tom got married in the fall of 1971, he walked down the aisle. His son Tommy, Jr. was born two years later. Tom wasn't physically able to hold a steady job and received 100 percent disability from the government. He pursued various activities that interested him. He organized a drug prevention program and ran for alderman in Reading, his hometown. He went to school to study nursing, marine biology, and psychology. He joined a theater group, and kept a journal of poetry and short stories. He was active in the PTA at his son Tommy's school The cold bothered him terribly so he traveled to warmer climates where he lived for extended period of time - Mexico, Belize, Colombia. Tommy, Jr. would visit or travel with him during summer vacation. Tom was a long-term member of a Vietnam veterans' support group at the Boston Vet Center, where he had very close friends. After his treatment for cancer in Boston in the spring and summer of 1986, Tom and June stayed with his family in Florida for recuperation, and then moved back to their home in Alabama. Tom and June were together, separated and then together again. Both were attending college in the fall of 1987 when Tom went into the hospital in Alabama with a relapse of his cancer. His condition deteriorated steadily and June spent her days with him. He died on January 7, 1988 in his sleep. Tom left instructions that he wanted his body cremated and his ashes sprinkled over Boston Harbor. A memorial service was held on May 22, 1988, attended by friends, family members, and the veteran community. VETLink #1 Note: This is but one of seven interviews contained within this book by Janice Rogovin - Editorial Consultants John Grady and Sarah Rogovin. Many who helped prepare the book are friends of mine and yours. You'll recognize them - they're part of me and you. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 73 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= R e m e m b e r T h e m ! ! ! ================================================================= THE VIETNAM VETERAN IN THE CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM by G. Joseph Peck NAM VETs Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 Crouching low in the underbrush, his weapon at the ready, 19- year-old Jeremy carefully slithered toward the village where his friend was being held as a prisoner of the Vietnam war. The slightest unnatural sound would give his position away and would most likely result in his being captured. Adrenal glands furiously producing their now-needed commodity, Jeremy feared the rushing in his ears would be audible to the villagers. He moved forward, waited to be sure no one was near his friend, then slipped in and untied him. Together they sprinted to freedom, Jeremy experiencing an exhilarating "high" from this close encounter with danger - a "high" that would become addictive in his later years. Jeremy completed his tour of duty in Vietnam after successfully completing many more missions like the one just cited. As his Freedom Bird (airplane flight home) gently touched the California runway, he looked anxiously at the terminal ahead hoping to catch a glimpse of his family or girlfriend. "They're probably inside," he thought, gathering up his duffle bag, boonie hat, and instinctively reaching for his rifle - amused when he realized what he had done. "Don't need it here," he laughed, "this is the hero's home turf. Boy! Wait 'til I get my arm round that gal of mine!" The terminal was empty as Jeremy and the 135-or-so other soldiers, all still in combat gear, trudged inside. Jeremy rushed to the telephone and, once in the booth, hurriedly dialed the familiar number. "Hello, Mom? It's me! Jeremy! I'm home! Where's Dad? Can you come pick me up?" The tone of her voice dripping with annoyance and what seemed to be disgust, Jeremy's mother replied. "Your father's at the antiwar demonstration in Golden Gate Park. He won't be back 'til late. He'll be tired. Why don't you come over tomorrow? I'm sure you and he have a lot to talk about. Good-bye." Dazed, he hung up the telephone and started walking out of the terminal towards the highway. A group of young men just about his age was coming. They were carrying banners and placards that read "Stop the War" - "Baby Killers!" and "Hell No! We won't go!". As Jeremy got closer, he recognized a couple of them as friends he had graduated high school with only 2 years ago. He quickly turned and walked away. "Nineteen hours ago I was in the bush over in 'Nam fighting for NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 74 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 those damned kids," he said, toying with the long-dreamed-of American beer the man he had hitched a ride with had bought him. "What the hell's the matter with 'em?" "Whaddya 'spect, kid? You guys go over there and destroy villages, kill women and children, bomb the hell out of innocent people. Waddya' wan' us to treat ya' like - heroes? I heard about Calley, an' I seen that naked gal' a runnin' down the road, an' I seen that kid get his head blowed off. Hell, man, you guy's is just plain murderers." Jeremy never did see his dad or his mom. A familiar pulsing in his ears as blood raced through his veins. He fought himself for control - and lost when somebody spit. The ensuing fight saw three men hospitalized, one of them with critical head injuries, and a tavern so extensively damaged it would be at least two months before it could reopen. Handcuffed and being put into the back of a police car, the last thing he remembered hearing before he saw the officer's nightstick come crashing down on his skull was: "You have the right to remain silent..." Two of the men recovered. The one with critical head injuries had been reduced to a vegetable-like state of existence. Jeremy was charged with attempted murder. A popular TV game show at that time was "Family Feud" - a show that asked questions of the contestants concerning a variety of everyday topics. The "winning answer" wasn't always the "correct" answer but one which had emerged the victor in an audience poll. The "law of the land", too, was akin to Family Feud - the "correct" law wasn't always the one that had been enacted by the voters and the legislature. Jeremy was listening as the Public Defender matter-of-factly told him he could plead guilty to the lesser offense of assault and battery with intent to do great bodily harm when the news came that the hospitalized man had died. "We'll get you off with second degree," said the Public Defender, as Jeremy suddenly realized that any benefit he had earned as a veteran had suddenly vanished, any freedom he had fought for would not be his. "We, the jury, find you guilty of murder in the second degree." Jeremy couldn't believe his ears as the judge sentenced him to 20- years-to-life in the state penitentiary. He hadn't been taught criminal thoughts or behaviors by his family or peers. He didn't even have a juvenile record. On the contrary, he had always been taught to obey the rules. "Jeremy" is a fictitious Vietnam veteran, created to illustrate some of the social attitudes and experiences of the Vietnam veteran during the latter part of the 60's and nearly most of the 70's. He is only one of the 2000 Vietnam veterans in federal prisons (out of a total populace of 24000) and of 13000 out of an estimated 275000 inmates in state prisons - as reported in the March 10, 1982 edition of the New York Times. According to the "laws of the land" he has been justifiably and fairly imprisoned and has given up his individual rights and freedoms. If Jeremy needs to see anyone from the Veterans Administration for information regarding any kind of veterans' NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 75 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 benefit, it will only be on a twice-a-year basis. The Administrator of the Veterans Administration, in his 1982 Annual Report, has said "Service to incarcerated veterans began after World War II and has continued throughout the years. However, recent budget limitations on travel have had an impact on our outreach to veterans in correctional facilities and semiannual visits to federal and state institutions are no longer being made on a routine basis." With the implementation of the Gramm-Rudman- Hollings balanced budget act, the situation has only worsened. There is a bright side, though, for the Jeremy's of the penal systems. A "bright side" in organizations such as Vietnam Veterans of America and its' legal defense system, in the Disabled American Veterans, and even in the federal courts. A federal judge in Boston, MA proposed that "parole boards across the nation give 'special consideration' to Vietnam veterans in prison because of the traumatic effects of their war experience." "The judge, D. J. Skinner, of the U.S. District Court, said in an unusual decision... that the nation's Parole Commission, which sets policy for the early release of prisoners, could serve 'a useful purpose' and decide a policy toward Vietnam veterans 'on a national basis.'" " 'It may well be that special consideration should be given to war veterans who have made great sacrifices for their country,' said Skinner, whose decision was immediately lauded by Vietnam veterans." New York Times March 10, 1982 In case-after-case across the nation, according to numerous volumes of research - among them including the Service Officer's Manual of the Vietnam Veterans of America, the Disabled American Veterans Service Officer's manual, the Veterans of Foreign Wars Service Officer's manual - the service of the veteran and any possible extenuating circumstances are being taken into consideration. An incarcerated veteran who has been diagnosed after sentencing as having Post Traumatic Stress (a natural reaction to the life-threatening episodes of combat), has many alternatives for utilizing that fact to attempt to speed his/her release from custody so that he/she can obtain treatment. The legal system which has incarcerated veterans such as "Jeremy" are systems that have become the regulatory mechanisms of life in America. As an ordered society, we must attempt to comply with those laws, rules, and regulations that those we have elected as legislator's have enacted into being. In some cases, though, our "system" can take extenuating circumstances into consideration - and prior honorable service to protect and preserve what we now call "Freedom." There is much work to be done, though, prior to release of the "Jeremy's" of this nation - if "release" is the verdict of the parole boards. The veteran will need a place to go upon his release - a place such as a halfway house, where there is someone working to assist him in employment, medical and psychological services, Rap-Group counseling, schooling, and camaraderie. While he is still incarcerated he needs help in Family Assistance NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 76 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Programs where his family's needs will be given every possible consideration, Parole counseling, Job and/or Vocational Counseling. If he/she has had difficulty with release from service (Discharge) there will also be matters of legality to consider. For this article, I have looked carefully, closely at the incarcerated Vietnam veteran. I have looked at the situations surrounding many instances of incarceration. The numbers and offenses have been many. The troubled families have been many. I have been touched by what I've read and seen. I have read of instances where the veteran has attempted to use his/her Vietnam service as a 'ticket to freedom' - a 'degree' of service. Hopefully, I have learned the ability to perceive a veterans' actual motives when he/she has been charged with a crime - and whether or not the motivating factor behind the crime might have some relation to the negative public reaction the veteran received during his/her homecoming from battle, the negative employer reaction to hiring a Vietnam veteran (we are slowly growing past that in our Pittsfield, MA community), and the negative social reactions. To ILLUSTRATE some of those REALITIES was the basic purpose of creating JEREMY - so that you, the reader, might FEEL what I, the writer of this report, have felt as I read report after report, case after case. In the final analysis, if there IS one, many Vietnam veterans judged "mentally fit" when they were sentenced to their periods of imprisonment, because of an undiagnosed and/or treated case of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (aka Vietnam Stress Syndrome), were NOT. Many of those cases are just now beginning to surface. JUSTICE - does work. Sometimes, though, it takes a little longer. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 77 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX \ \ \ \ \XXXX XXXXX XXXXX.::::::::::::::.XXXXX INCARCERATED XXXX XXXXX XXXXX --------- XXXXX \ \ \ \ \ \ \XXXX XXXXX .XXXXX W W I I XXXXX. VETERANS \ \XXXX XXXXX ::XXXXX --------- XXXXX::. \ \ \ \ XXXX XXXXX :::XXXXX ------------- XXXXX:::. XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX K O R E A XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX ------------- XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX ------------- XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX V I E T N A M XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX ------------- XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX::::::::::::::::XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX::::::::::::::::XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX::' `::XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX:: ::XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX `..........''`XXXXX:::: XXXX XXXXX ::::XXXXX .:(O) . (O):. XXXXX:::' XXXX XXXXX ::' XXXXX .. XXXXX:: XXXX XXXXX .:' XXXXX . .. XXXXX: XXXX XXXXX :: XXXXX . .. ` XXXXX XXXX XXXXX :: XXXXX ' '.. ` XXXXX. XXXX XXXXX :: XXXXX" ' ` XXXXX . XXXX XXXXX ``. XXXXX ' . . . ` XXXXX '. ........., XXXX XXXXX :: XXXXX'' ..''.'''. XXXXX .' '.XXXX XXXXX :: XXXXX" ':.:'' XXXXX .'' .:::'XXXX XXXXX :: XXXXX:.. .:XXXXX.'' .::::' .XXXX XXXXX :: XXXXX '.. ..:' XXXXX ..:' . .:::'XXXX XXXXX ....::'XXXXX ':::::;' XXXXX .:''. .:::' XXXX XXXXX .:::::' XXXXX .: XXXXX :'. ..:... XXXX XXXXX.::' :: XXXXX: PREPARED TO XXXXX .'' ''.. XXXX XXXXX::' :: XXXXX`: FIGHT XXXXX.' '.XXXX XXXXX' :: XXXXX ``. XXXXX XXXX XXXXX '' XXXXX PREPARED TO XXXXX XXXX XXXXX :: XXXXX DIE ...'XXXXX XXXX XXXXX :: XXXXX `...' XXXXX XXXX XXXXX `..' XXXXX .' XXXXX XXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXX /\ .' .' XXXX XXXXX /\ \ . . XXXX XXXXX / \ \...' `. .' XXXX XXXXX / NOT PREPARED TO BE DESERTED XXXX XXXXX / .'.' . .`.' XXXX XXXXX / ~ | : : : . XXXX XXXXX / |`. : : . .__________ XXXX XXXXX / ~ ~ ||.` ` : || \ / XXXX XXXXX / WRITE OR VISIT AN INCARCERATED VETERAN SOON ! XXXX XXXXX / ~ || . .'. / / XXXX XXXXX/ ~ ~ ~|| ||/ / XXXX XXXXX ~ ~ ~ || || / XXXX XXXXX || || / XXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXX \_________XXXXX________|| XgjpX XXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXX NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 78 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 HOMELESS By: G. Joseph Peck NAM VETs Managing Editor VETLink #1 Pittsfield, MA (413) 443-6313 (Edited for 2nd Anniversary Issue) It sure seemed familiar. Clothes that had seen much better days; a face that badly needed a shave; shoes that should have been long ago thrown away. I checked my wallet - all personal ID had been removed from it - to see how much money I had left. $10. Not too bad. I was only going to be gone for 24 hours. At a little after 5pm, I walked into the local drug store. The clerk, a sweet young girl, smiled her brightest and went out of her way to find out for me when the next bus to Great Barrington, MA. was (about 25 miles away). The druggist eyed me suspiciously, watched my every move. I bought a small box of candy to tide me over and was soon on my way. It would be a good 45 minutes before the bus came. I walked down the street - thinking, observing, feeling how it felt NOT to have a home, NOT to know where I'd be sleeping, NOT to know where I'd be eating later that night. About three miles down the road, shadows from the roadside trees beginning to lengthen, I decided to wait at a bus stop. Walking was beginning to hurt. The wait wasn't long and soon I was aboard Berkshire's finest, only not headed to the city I wanted to go to. "Last bus out of town tonight, sir. We only go as far as Lee, MA (about 15 miles from my final destination)." Paid the man his dollar - only $9 left. No problem. Enough for a hamburger and coffee in Lee then I'd start walking to Great Barrington. It was cold out. I intentionally wore only very light clothing and carried no bedding. Weather was predicted to be in the low 30's with a little snow. Burger King looked warm and inviting, and I savored my hamburger for nearly an hour, washing it down with about 4 cups of coffee. Finally, noticing the darkening sky, I left and began the 5 mile walk to Stockbridge. "A step at a time... you can always call home collect if it gets too tough or your body gives out." Steps along the roadway. Cars coming from behind me. Soon some of the old "alert mechanisms" kick in - I carefully listen to the sound of the approaching vehicles, ready in an instant to jump into a nearby bush or take some other evasive action. I remember the time I hid amongst the rocks while a group of four searched in vain to find me. Never want to go through that again. Dogs bark in the distance. House lights come on and traffic thins out. It is getting colder. "Hup-two-free-four... Jody's got ur girl n' gone... sound off... one two sound off... three four" ... D*mn Jody anyway... Well, I finally made it to Stockbridge - home of Norman Rockwell. Town closes up at 5... everybody's gone. It's 9:30pm. Don't NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 79 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 even hear the dogs anymore. My footsteps echo loudly. The sign by the side of the road reads: "Great Barrington 9 miles". My hips are startin' to bother me and the pain in my neck is beginning to bring tears to my eyes. I'm beginning to shiver. It is getting even colder. The little convenience store is open. I buy a cup of coffee. Beginning to shiver, I take it with me, cupping it close to capturing its warmth - hurrying towards Great Barrington. I'm counting the cars that pass me by, looking for the cherry-top that'll be the policeman. Maybe he'll stop and I'll get a ride. There's no more busses tonight. There isn't a cloud in the sky. I can see stars where I thought there were none. I take time to remember what this same kind of walk was like years ago. I can still remember the pain. I began callin' myself a fool for tryin' to be homeless. My ultra-thin jacket soon felt as though it were a frosted A&W mug and I put my hands in my pocket, as much to keep making my legs work (push the right, push the left, keep movin') as to keep them warm. It was a long, long walk. 2-miles away and I don't think I'm going to make it into the city. Can hardly move. Still countin' cars. Takin' steps that are no more than 5" in length. I'm looking for an abandoned car or an old barn on the side of the road. Not to be found. "A step at a time... left... right... push... push... 436 cars passed me and not a one of them with the bubble-gum machines on top..." 12:25 a.m. I finally get to the center of town and find an open convenience store. No bars open so's I could ask where the homeless stayed, maybe make friends with one or two. Takes me nearly 5 minutes to stop the shivering. Hands are blue. I ask the store attendant whether there's any shelters for the homeless in town. "No. Afraid I can't help you." He tells me where to find the police department. The sign in front of the bank says its 12:47; 32-degrees F, 0- degrees C. I'm barely able to make my feet move. I can't remember when I've hurt so bad. If I can only make it to the police department. Hate to admit it, but this is one disabled veteran that has failed in his stupid attempt to be homeless and now the police department will have to bring me home. Not easy "givin' yourself up to the police." Just around the corner from the police department I saw the stairway leading to the apartment over the Main Street stores. "It's gotta be warm in there. Lemme try." The first door I tried was locked. The second opened. Carefully, trying to be quiet, I climbed the stairs to the third floor. Bare wooden floors. A broken window at the end of the hall. If I could just sit down for a bit, maybe I'd be better. Once down, I don't want to get back up. The cold wind and snowflakes are blowing in through the window. A piece of board covers the window nicely and stops the snow. I half-sleep in a sitting position against the wall. I wake up every 20 minutes to NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 80 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 see if anyone's coming out of the apartments along the hallway - Ready at a moments notice to get up and movin'. De Ja vu... At 0615 I'm back on the road again. Walk down to the local fast food franchise (another Burger King), tell the manager I'm homeless, ask him if he's got some work I can do for breakfast. "I'm really sorry," he said, "It's against the law to give you work to do to pay for your food. Minimum wage laws won't let me do it." He directs me back into town and to a local community action group. I ask about veterans' groups. None that can help. The town is awake now. 09:30. I stop at the Vet Center. Climb up the two floors and discover a sign: CLOSED. For service, please call (Pittsfield, MA) or 1-800- (Boston). Finally get help/breakfast at the community group. The lady who helped me said "If you'd have gone to the police department they would have called me and I would have made arrangements for you to stay in a motel for at least the night." After having my breakfast, and observing that I was treated with nothing but total honesty and dignity, I told her who I was and what I was doing. I paid for my breakfast - didn't want to take ANY monies away from the homeless. "How are you funded?" I asked. "Mainly through contributions from the local churches," she said. "Do any of the veterans groups nearby donate ANYTHING to you? Do they provide ANY help?" That was two weeks ago. I've regained most of the use of my legs and my neck isn't as stiff now. I know what to do if ever I'm homeless in a strange town: turn myself in to a police department and they'll help - or refer me to someone who can. I still haven't gotten over the sad feeling I got when I learned that no veteran group gives anything to help the homeless - leastways not in Great Barrington, Pittsfield, Adams, North Adams, or Dalton, Massachusetts. They're so d*mned busy runnin' their bars, sellin' their raffle tickets, yellin' at the government to start a new program that they don't see the need right under their feet. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 81 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= I n T h e S i l e n t T i m e s ================================================================= THE SILENT WARRIOR By: Karen A. Winnett S.I.R.E.N. IS CALLING Sacramento, CA (916) 971-0589 The fire fights have ended and the big guns no longer roar but the Silent Warrior's fighting like he's never fought before! No point man walks before him and no man takes the rear, no comrade stands beside him though death is always near! He humps no hills or valleys and he sweats no jungle heat. He stalks no Vils or cities, yet has no road to retreat. His field pack long abandoned and his rifle gone to rust, The Silent Warrior battles, because, he has no choice, he must! It's a long range operation, the objective long and hard, to the Valley of the Shadow, where only Angels are. The Silent Warrior battles, where no soul should have to go, and no heart can ever reach him, for his battlefield's unknown! Don't look to the north or south, don't look west or east, look to home and know the truth, this is where the warrior bleeds! His campaigns rage in silence, and he battles here at home, his courage goes unnoticed and his valor, few have known! Behold the Silent Warrior, lost deep within his thoughts, his body frozen solid, never never to unlock! What enemy could do this, what hearts could be so cold, to do him such dishonor, a brother of our own! I look into unseeing eyes and I wonder where he is, and damn the souls who were taught to care, yet did a thing like this! Behold this valiant warrior, who never more shall speak, curled up in a fetal ball on antiseptic sheets! His arms and legs contracted, his body old and frail his honor stripped away and lost where love should not have failed! Look gently on this old one, who battles day and night, and let every warrior cry for him, until Valhalla's in his sights. For such are the forgotten, not dead yet not alive, doing battle on the Veterans wards beyond uncaring eyes! Behold the Silent Warrior, who's stillness screams with rage, who wars in fields of solitude, and there, til death, he stays! I have touched the Silent Warrior, and learned to know his pain, I have fed and I have bathed him, and cried when no one came! I have reached down to his anger and held his ruined hands, and I felt the battle raging, and I cursed, "God damn!" Behold the Silent Warrior, who battles until death, honor him and know his face, stand guard beside his bed. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 82 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 For such are the forgotten, some lost and some abused, victims of a friendly fire we never can undo. Yes, the Fire fights have ended, and the big guns no longer roar, but the Silent Warriors fighting like he never fought before! Go to him, and speak his name, and understand the truth, don't let him die behind the lines, the next warrior could be you! NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 83 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 BROTHER RAT'S BOONIE GOURMET COOKING by Mike Dacus This column presents the most delectable (deleteable?) cuisine south of the 17th parallel and west of the international dateline. By popular demand, after much online debate over the delights of ham and MF's (or MF's and beans as one brother insists) and other delights of the palate. Your participation will determine the longevity of the column. If we get any submissions, the column will continue. No new recipes cancels the column. BOONIE BREAKFAST EXTRORDINARE INGREDIENTS: One packet of Vietnamese style Shrimp Ramien (with Red Peppers) One packet of C Ration Cocoa Three packets of C Ration Creamer One packet of C Ration Coffee Three packets of C Ration Sugar Veggies, onions, and stuff scrounged as available Nouc Mam One canteen of water (preferably without iodine tablets) Two canteen cups Two 1cm squares of Composition C4 DIRECTIONS: Fill one canteen cup 2/3 full of water. Dump in the Ramien seasoning mix and stir. Add in any Veggies , onions, garlic or other additives you have found on the trail or been able to bargain for at the last ville. Add good quality Nouc Mam to taste. If you can spare it, you may want to drain and dice a can of C Ration Pork slices. If you have recently gotten a goody box from home, you may want to splurge and put some canned shrimp or tuna in the mix. After adding the other ingredients, break the ramien noodles so that the liquid will cover them and add them to the cup. Use your K-Bar or bayonet to dig a two inch trench. Place one square of C4 in the trench and the canteen cup over the C4. Light the C4 and allow the water to boil vigorously for 30 seconds or until the C4 quits burning (which ever occurs first). Set aside the main course to steep while you prepare the beverage. Fill the second canteen cup 2/3 full of water. Add the Cocoa, creamer, sugar, and coffee. Stir. Place the cup over the previously constructed trench and add the second cube of C4. Ignite and allow to boil vigorously for 30 seconds. The breakfast stew should be consumed with home made chopsticks slirpily while in an oriental squat. If you have not yet made your chopsticks, cut some bamboo and split out a few pair. Traditionally, the beverage is consumed either before or after the stew, but not with it. Try it. It'll make your whole day. HONOR THY CO VAN MY (AMERICAN ADVISOR) CHICKEN STEW INGREDIENTS: One whole (completely) chicken 250 grams of oriental rice Vegetables of the season Plenty of Water NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 84 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 One large cooking pot Salt, Pepper, MSG, garlic, Nouc Mam DIRECTIONS: This dish is usually served at a festive occasion with appropriate ceremony an decorum. The Co Van is always the guest of honor. First, catch and kill the chicken. Pluck most of the feathers off the bird. Cut the head and neck and the feet off and set these delicacies aside till later. Gut and clean the chicken at your option. Next, take a machete or some other blunt cutting instrument and hack up the chicken into uniform pieces (bones and all) appropriate size for eating with chopsticks. Now, cut all the other ingredients into chopstick size pieces. Place them in the cooking pot along with the raw rice and cover with water. Add Nouc Mam, and all other seasonings. Now, to prepare the garnish and decoration that makes the dish suitable for formal eating. Take the feet you set aside earlier and place them on top of the contents of the pot claws up and crossed. Next, place the head (with eyes) and neck in the center of the crossed feet. Once you have garnished the dish, place over a fire until the rice is done and the meat cooked. Bring the dish to the table with a flourish and place it before the guest of honor. The guest of honor is always served first, and given the choicest parts (head and feet). The advisor should observe proper protocol by diving into this feast head first (eyeballs are especially considered a delicacy), and not loosing lunch. This can truly be described as the lunch of champions. From: Todd Looney Orig: Vietnam Veteran's (143/27) San Jose CA You won't need a mess sergeant's steam tables to dish up these meals on a minutes notice; all the ingredients (except TABASCO brand pepper sauce) are included in your MRE packs. If you can get hold of your own personal supply of Tabasco, secure it with your gear for quick draw protection against chowline boredom! PARATROOPER PORK AND BEANS Don't take a dive on your next meal! Jump in with a hearty appetite to enjoy an old familiar favorite and let the others take a flying leap. Use plenty of Tabasco without reserve - it will lift you right off your feet! 1 pork patty 1 pouch beans in tomato sauce (from menu's 3,6, or 8) 1 envelope dehydrated catsup, optional TABASCO pepper sauce Rehydrate pork patty in hot water; crumble (grin) into warm beans. Sprinkle on catsup, if desired, and 2 to 3 spoons water from soaking pork patty. Add several dashes Tabasco and mix well. With Tabasco, the sky's the limit! COMBAT CANAPES Jazz up the chow line in the front lines! Try this simple but satisfying before-dinner treat. It'll give you a charge! Many flavors mix great with peanut butter. So, try it with bacon, if you can get it, or with pickle slices or chopped onions. If you find a few carrots around, boil 'em up, mash 'em, and mix 'em up with the peanut butter, adding a few drops of Tabasco for zest and you'll have a delicious side dish that will leave the others up in arms! NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 85 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 EVER WONDER WHAT TO DO WITH THOSE HARD TACK CRACKERS? 4 spoons pineapple or applesauce. 1 envelope peanut butter (from menu 2,4,5,or 12) 1 envelope apple jelly (from menu 6,7, or 10) Crackers Combine pineapple or applesauce, peanut butter and jelly; mix well and spread on crackers for even more military might! Next Month, (if there is a next month) look forward to such delights as the all goat party menu. Maybe, we'll work up a special edition of the column for Tet. Send in those recipes. We need more contributors. This column is episode two in "As the Stomach Turns". When last we met, we considered the finer points of gourmet trail cooking and the intricacies of Boonie Rat and Co Van My eating habits. Today's episode finds us rising bright eyed and bushy tailed from our NDP, scratching and pondering our first repast of the day. Hang in there, campers and we will get it all done. BOONIE BREAKFAST a la FRANCONIA (AND JUAREZ) INGREDIENTS: One can of C Ration Ham(chopped) and Eggs(scrambled?) One can of B-2 unit rubber cheese, any flavor (plain is best) Tabasco Jalapenos (if you can get them, otherwise Vietnamese Red peppers) Nouc Mam One can B-2 nut roll One packet of C Ration Cocoa Three packets of C Ration Creamer One packet of C Ration Coffee Three packets of C Ration Sugar One canteen of water (preferably without iodine tablets) One canteen cup Two 1cm squares of Composition C4 DIRECTIONS: See the recipe in last month's column for Trail Mocha and combine the ingredients for this gourmet treat. Next, open the can of ham and eggs. Carefully add about 1 to 2 teaspoons (C-rat spoons) of water down the sides of the ham and egg lump so that it will sink to the bottom of the can. This water is to prevent scorching when the can is heated. Next, open the can of rubberized cheese. Cut the congealed ham and eggs in a cross about half way through the chunk. Spread the cuts and insert wedges of the cheese. Dash the omelet liberally with tabasco. Now, insert jalapino or red pepper slices beside the cheese wedges. Dig the trench for your C-4 and set the can over the C-4 and close the opened lid of the can. Light and allow to burn out. Allow the can to sit for a few minutes to warm all the way through from the steam generated by the C-4 heating the water in the can. Open the canned nut roll. Eat your omelet with the Trail Mocha and dunk the nut roll in the Mocha (it's the only way to get down this dry but good tasting roll). You will note that we have used several cans and several auxiliary C ration items in this meal. This is a breakfast to eat early on NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 86 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 an operation to get rid of all the weight of the cans and other bulky stuff (it's better than carrying it or leaving it for Charlie). OLE LIFERS NEVER DIE (THEY JUST SMELL THAT WAY) BASE CAMP BREAKFAST INGREDIENTS: One pound of ground beef (lean if you can get it) 1/4 cup of flour 1/4 cup of oil 1 cup of milk one medium potato one onion salt, pepper, MSG, garlic powder, tabasco DIRECTIONS: Grate the potato and enough of the onion to add flavor to your hash browns. Fry the mixture of potato and onion in a skillet or on a grill. Use just enough oil to keep from sticking. Cook until golden brown on the outside. Drain the hashbrowns and put on a plate. Now, brown the hamburger breaking it into small pieces until each small piece is between gray and brown in color. Push the meat to one side of the skillet and drain the grease from the skillet. To the empty half of the skillet add the 1/4 cup of oil and 1/4 cup of flour. Brown the flour by stirring with the oil. When you have the flour browned, stir the oil/flower paste in with the hamburger. When you have these ingredients mixed together, add salt, pepper, MSG, garlic (lots of garlic so no-one can stand to be down wind of us) and tabasco to taste. After seasoning, add the cup of milk and stir until a white sauce forms in the browned meat. You may want to add more or less than a cup of milk to achieve the consistency of SOS you prefer. Spoon the SOS over the hashbrowns and chow down. SGT Bilko never had it so good. THE ALL-GOAT PARTY INGREDIENTS One goat with all standard equipment Various assorted vegies, condiments, and potables Other stuff DIRECTIONS It's party time down in Co Van ville again. Time for the advisor to go build rapport and prove his manhood. This time, kiddies, we're going to a goat party. Since we didn't really prepare the dishes, we will have to speculate on the technique and the contents in some cases. First, take the goat out in the back yard and kill him, saving all the good parts. Now, we have the wherewithal to prepare an interesting party. BARBEQUED GOAT Select portions of the roast and hams of the goat to prepare. Slice the meat into very thin slices just large enough to handle well with chopsticks when cooked. Make a marinade of Nouc Mam, soy sauce, sesame seed, garlic, MSG, oriental red peppers, and oil. Soak the goat meat for several hours before cooking. Cook NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 87 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 the meat over a brazier basting with the marinade until done. Serve with garnish and oriental rice. GOAT GUT STEW Select and clean the choicest inner parts of the goat. Chop into bite-size pieces. Select vegetables and cut into chop-stick size pieces. Season with nouc mam, peppers, salt and pepper, and oriental spices. Place the ingredients into a large pot, cover with water and cook over a low to medium fire for several hours until the meat is done. Garnish with local tree leaves and serve in rice bowls with china spoons. GOAT HEAD CHEESE SALAD This dish deserves no further introduction to an audience of tender young (?) ex-GI's. Here is the golden opportunity to make a confession to your host and counterpart. Simply explain that it is against your religion to partake of such dishes. If he should happen to ask your denomination you can explain that you are an orthodox gastronomic coward. POTABLES - GOAT BLOOD COCKTAIL You knew you were saving all the goat for some purpose. Take the blood you have collected and mix it with equal parts of vodka, gin, or what-ever other potable the advisor was able to get on his last trip to the Class VI store. Serve at ambient temperature. I understand that this drink has some part as a Co Van puberty rite. This drink is better after several shots of straight booze. Don't forget. Don't ever let them see you cringe. Next Month, (if there is a next month) we will feature any recipes we receive from you, the readers. Roam through those long term synapses in the gray matter and come forth with your best rendition of meals prepared with C's, LRRP's, USofA food, or Vietnamese ( or Cham or Ra De, or Bru, Camir, or Chinese). Send them to me, or Todd, but get them in early. Editors note: I know I for one have thoroughly enjoyed reading this article each issue. I will admit that I haven't tried out all the scruptious recipes Mike has collected. Somehow, just *remembering* them some of them is enough! ================================================================= NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 88 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 The Boonie Rat Song WHO Submitted It??? Through the International Vietnam Veterans EchoConference To James and all Brother Vets: I have seen the messages concerning the "Boonie Rat" song, and knew I had it somewhere in my footlocker. Finally went digging and found it, so I will post it up for all to read. AIRBORNE!! ----------------------------------------------------------- I landed in this country: One year of life to give, My only friend a weapon, My only prayer to LIVE. I walked away from freedom and the life that I had known, I passed the weary faces of the others going home. Boonie Rats, Boonie Rats, Scared but not alone, 300 days more or less, then I'm going home. The first few days were hectic as they psyched my mind for war, I often got the feeling They're trying to tie the score. The first day with my unit We climbed a two klick hill, to find an enemy soldier, To capture, wound or kill. Boonie Rats, Boonie Rats, Scared but not alone, 200 days more or less, Then I'm going home. The air was hot and humid the ground was hard and dry. Ten times I cursed my rucksack and wished that I could die. I learned to look for danger In the trees and on the ground, I learned to shake with terror When I hear an A-K round. Boonie Rats, Boonie Rats Scared but not alone, 100 days more or less then I'm going home. Boonie Rats a legend For now and times to come, Wherever there are soldiers They"ll talk of what we've done. Boonie Rats, Boonie Rats, Scared but not alone, 50 days more or less Then I'm going home. They say there'll always be a war, NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 89 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 I hope they're very wrong, To the Boonie Rats of VietNam I dedicate this song. Boonie Rats, Boonie Rats, Scared but not alone, Today I see my Freedom Bird, Today I'm going home. ----------------------------------- There it is guys, hope it brings back the good memories. I sure rushed after reading it, its been too many years. AIRBORNE! NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 90 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= O n T h e L i t e S i d e ================================================================= An Incomplete List of Murphy's Laws of Combat Operations By: Lt. Col Jack Finch, USA (Ret.) Published in the VVA Chapter 111 Springfield, MA Newsletter 1. Military intelligence can be contridiction in terms. 2. Recoilless rifles - aren't 3. A sucking chest wound is nature's way of telling you to slow down. 4. The enemy diversion you are ignoring is the main attack. 5. If the enemy is within range, then so are you. 6. Friendly fire - isn't. 7. If it is stupid and works, then it ain't stupid. 8. When you have secured an area, don't forget to tell the enemy 9. If you're short of everything, except the enemy, then you are in the combat zone. 10. Try to look unimportant. They may be low on ammo. 11. The easy way is always mined. 12. Tracers work both ways. 13. Sh*t happens. 14. Incoming fire has the right of way. 15. Teamwork is essential. It gives them other people to shoot at 16. Never draw fire - it irritates everyone around you. 17. No combat ready unit has ever passed an inspection. 18. No inspection ready unit has ever passed combat. 19. Make it too tough for the enemy to get in and you can't get out 20. Both sides are convinced they're about to lose, they're both right. 21. Professionals are predictable, but the world is full of dangerous amateurs. 22. Fortify your front and you'll get your rear shot up. 23. When in doubt, empty your magazine. 24. In war, important things are very simple and all simple things are hard. 25. Don't look conspicuous, it draws fire. 26. Communications will fail as soon as you need fire support desperately. 27. Weather ain't neutral. 28. Never share a foxhole with anyone braver than you. 29. Remember, your weapon was made by the lowest bidder. 30. If you can't remember, the claymore is pointed towards you 31. All five second grenade fuses are three seconds 32. The only thing more accurate than incoming enemy fire is incoming friendly. 33. If your attack is going really well, it's an ambush. 34. No OPLAN survives first contact intact. 35. If it flies, it dies. 36. When you are forward of your position, the artillery will always be short. 37. Suppressive fire - won't. 38. You are not Superman. 39. Cavalry doesn't always come to the rescue. 40. B-52's are the ultimate in close air support. 41. Sniper's motto: Reach out and touch someone. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 91 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 42. Peace is our profession - mass murder's just a hobby 43. Killing for peace is like whoring for virginity 44. There's always a way 45. Murphy was a grunt 46. It's not the one with your name on it - it's the round addressed "to whom it may concern" ya gotta think about 47. Remember napalm is an area weapon 48. Mines are equal opportunity weapons. 50. There is no such thing as the perfect plan. The original authors are unknown, probably military instructors like myself, who have generated these lists for their students' amusement. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 92 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 SERMON FROM MOUNT DONG QUANG (as re-told by Mike Dealey) MATTHEW five-five: "Blessed are the meek, for they shall not be selected for night patrol." MATTHEW five-six: "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall fly B-52s." MATTHEW five-seven: "Blessed are the merciful, for it gives you time to grease the suckers." MATTHEW five-eight: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for it shall be they who clean the sh_tters every day." MATTHEW five-niner: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God and score beaucoup acid." [This was neatly handwritten on what appeared to be a mimeographed copy. Circa 1969, I'd judge. Author(s) unknown.] NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 93 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 ================================================================= G u i d e T o I V V E C A r t i c l e s ================================================================= On the following pages you will find an index to all of the articles that have appeared in our NAM VET. NOT LISTED are the near-regular features (i.e. the IVVEC nodelist, subscription form, and graphics.) Due to a hard disk crash 1/20/89, we lost the name of that very important person who contributed "The Boony Rat Song" Was it someone YOU know??? If YOU would like to help us keep this - or any other feature of NAM VET - current and up-to-date, please contact your local SysOp or send a message to NAM VET's Managing Editor. NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 94 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 __ ____/ \_ For some Vietnam Veterans, ( * \ every day is a bitter \ Quang Tri struggle to survive, trying \_/\ \___ to find some way to either \_Ashau \ escape the horrible memories of \_* \_ that war or come to terms with \ * ) themselves so they and their / Da Nang families can begin a normal life. ( \_ Many continue to live in a state \_ ------- \__ of considerable emotional and \_ I Corps \ psychological anguish over the parts \ ------- ! they played in Vietnam and are /\_____ ! plagued with paralyzing memories and / ! \ nightmares of that little country ! !___ \ tucked thousands of miles away in ! \/\____! southeast Asia. For other veterans ! ! of the Vietnam era, there is often / Dak To ! a fervent desire for comradery / * / with others who served our great ! \_ America during that troubled time ! Phu Cat\ in our nations' history. \ * * ) \ Pleiku ) - - N A M V E T - - \ \ / / "In the jungles of 'Nam, some of us ( -------- ! were scared and wary, but we pulled _\ II Corps ! one another along and were able / -------- \ to depend on each other. That has \ \ never changed. Today, free of the ! * / criticisms and misunderstandings _/ Nha Trang / many veterans have endured, _/ / NAM VET is a shining beacon, __/ ! a ray of hope, and a _ __/ \ ! reminder that the _____( )/ ! Cam Ranh Bay lessons learned / !__ ! at such a high / \ / price shall not \ Bien Hoa \ / be forgotten - ! Chu Chi * \ __/ nor the errors \_ * --------- \ ___/ repeated!!!" ____ \ III Corps \ _/ / \_____) )_(_ --------- !__/ ! ( ___/ VIETNAM VETS: _____! \__ * ___/ ! Saigon/ "The toughest, \___ -------- / \/ most persistent \ IV Corps / and ) -------- / determined / ! veterans / ____/ / Mekong/ In ! Delta/ -- ALL -- ! ____/ of ! / American ! / history!!! ! __/ \_/ gjp NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 95 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET 1-01 11 November 87 Wall Within Todd Looney VETLink #1 -Why? G. Joseph Peck Article Submissions Todd Looney Agent Orange Settlement Commonly Asked Questions Peace With Honor Todd Looney High Commission Requested Westrn Un POW/MIA Hotline CDC Mortality Report US AF Health Study Serum Dioxin Part 1 Serum Dioxin Part 2 Vets Survey Results David Harrington VVA Veteran Vets at The Valhalla! Todd Looney Attitudes Thom Patten San Jose Vet Center Growing Up Don Griffith Stone Cold Matthew Murphy Dreams of the Past Capt Jim Lord USA/ret Grapevine Cronicles Calvin College Homecoming III G. Joseph Peck Anatomy of a Warrior Carole J. Lund The Valhalla - WHY? Todd Looney Bui Doi G. Joseph Peck Hamburger Hill - A review POW/MIA Flag NAMVET 1-02 5 December 1987 Breathe slowly fire aim Todd Looney Incoming G. Joseph Peck Agent Orange Registry Form Amerasian Registry Jim Barker Ham & Limas Boonie Rat Young Bleeder Lynda M. Van Devanter Too Much Cat Mike Dealey Twenty Years Edward A. Howdershelt "Overlook" Christy Butler Up against the wall Mike Dealey And I waited Anonymous Growing Up Don Griffith The Wall Within Steve Mason What's the Answer? Outward Bound DAV Magazine A Vet Center near YOU? G. Joseph Peck NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 96 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor -------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET 2-01 4 January 1988 IVVEC & NAM VET Todd Looney Standin' in the Shadows" G. Joseph Peck Fed Vet Centers VVA Serv Manual Job Interviews US Vets Employment Growing Up II Don Griffith Going Apeshoot Mike Dealey The First Day Todd Looney Boonie Gourmet Cooking Todd Looney To the American Pilot Viet Vets & Justice System G. Joseph Peck. A Different Battlefield G. Joseph Peck To the Women of War Vet Center Springfield, MA Women Are Veterans TOO! Vet Center Springfield, MA Pain and Fear Joan Arrington Craigwell & Ellen Hoffman Young NAMVET2-02 6 February 88 Comments About NAM VET Todd Looney And Fuller Slept G. Joseph Peck Letter to the Editor Chuck Sterling Vet Service Organizations The Dragon Slayer Todd Looney Military Locator Services Jim Horn CompuServe Vet SIGOP PTSD... The Victims Elizabeth M. Norman Am Jr of Nursing Viet Vets' Survial Kubey/Addlestone/O'dell Snyder & Stichman What are Vet Centers? VA pub Dear Dad Lindy Harris Growing Up III Don Griffith Mommy, Did You Norma Boris Viet Era Service 1 Chuck Sterling Viet Vets Dying of Cancer William M. Welch AP Vietnam History Lessons Todd Looney Help for the Homeless Vets Arlene Levinson AP Where Are POWs Now? Banana Split Republic Stephan Ielpi Why Do We Feel So Guilty? Joan Renne NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 97 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET2-03 4 March 88 March Fourth G. Joseph Peck NAMVET/IVVEC Spreads Todd Looney IVVEC Messages Archived! Jerry Hindle BRAVO/Canada Newsletter Shawn Cake CDC Agt Orange Studies Women Vets Update San Jose Vet Center Vietnam era service II Chuck Sterling Everybody's Got A Jezebel Mike Dealey Growing Up IV Don Griffith Sermon From Mt Dong Quang Mike Dealey Memories of My Friends Joy Hanson Agent Orange Payments NY Times Viet Vet Cancer Study William M. Welch AP Hanoi Keeping War Alive Keith B. Richburg Washington Post Comment on Propoganda Jim Horn Vietnam Has Too Much William Pfaff Newsday Taurus Doodie Thom Patten San Jose Vet Center CompuServe & "Tour of Duty" Boonie Gourmet Cooking Mike Dacus NAMVET2-04 2 April 88 Trung Doi! Todd Looney Family Ties G. Joseph Peck Veteran Affairs Committee PTSD Symptoms Scale Tom Fletcher Record Insurance dividends DAV Magazine Viet Vets Registry Larry Horn Alan Anonymous Why Isn't Billy Up There? Mike Dealey Growing Up Don Griffith The Wars' Last Battle Bess Robinson Vietnam Era Service III Chuck Sterling The Real Life Platoon John C. Shoemaker Bornagain Jim Merlini Merchant Marines Vet Status DAV Magazine Stress Disorder Daniel Q. Haney AP NAMVET2-05 7 May 88 Still On The Loose Todd Looney Homeless G. Joseph Peck Heroes Apply VA Claim for PTSD Natl Vet Law Center Get Military Records Writing Your Resume Todd Looney Tribute to the Survivors Joan Renne True Friendship Jim Trotter Vietnam Era Service IV Chuck Sterling Where is he Now? Greg Lake A Little Man Lefty Frizzell A message to My Country Ed Howdershelt Agent Orange Update San Jose Vet Center VA Home Loan Costs Rising William M. Welch AP Veterans Health Care AP NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 98 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Combat Vets with PTSD Clinicians Research Digest VA Hospitals Gene Grabowsky AP Women Veterans' & The VA NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 99 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET2-06 4 June 88 Where'd the Flowers Go? Todd Looney Can I still salute, sir? G. Joseph Peck Get Military Records Friends of Viet Vets Memorial Inc. Dept of Vets Affairs List VA Educational Bene Extensions Keith Snyder VVA Legal Services Veteran Homeowner VA Publication U.S. Vet Center Listing Ralph Roberts A Little Man, Part II Lefty Frizzell Yahrzeit Anonymous AF Report Starts Fire Vesta Kimble NY Times Veterans' Benefits View of The Candidates Ralph Roberts PTSD & Adjustments Edward M. Carroll, David W. Fox, Drew B Rueger, Clyde P Donahoe, Jr. NAMVET2-07 4 July 88 Tippin' Down the Tightrope Todd Looney "Clipper" G. Joseph Peck MIA-POW EchoConference Glenn Toothman A Gathering of Vets Glenn Toothman A Listing of VA & Govt Forms The Lady Jim Moore A Little Man Part III Lefty Frizzell Study May Boost Benefits AF times Agent Orange Survivors Canadian Viet Vets Report from Vietnam Tony Bizjak San Fran Chronicle Red, White, and Blue 6/88 American Leg Mag Prisoner of War Medal Army Echoes Military Records Mark S. Camp US Archives Spec GS-7 Suicide Edwin Shneidman Texas Veterans Memorial Glenn Toothman Women Viet Vets Statue San Jose Vet Center Amerasian Registry Canadian Viet Vets NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 100 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET2-08 8 August 88 The Duality of Man Todd Looney Bert is Back! G. Joseph Peck Donators Beware Thom Patten Sweet Dreams Mike Dealey Forget Me Not, America Susy So Schaller Little Man Part IV Lefty Frizzell Mid-Life Crisis Rick Maze - AF Times Committee Approves GI Bill Armed Forces Reunion BBS A/O Study "DEAD WRONG" Armed Forces Reunion BBS R-E Vets Comp Act Now Law Armed Forces Reunion BBS First Woman War Casualty San Antonio Express News Serendipity Dale Malone Hanoi Jane Apologizes Armed Forces Reunion BBS & Todd Looney Missing U.S. Personnel Glenn Toothman Vet Employment PL 100-323 Congress Passes Vet Laws PL 100-322 Americans Still Captive Glenn Toothman Prisoners of Prejudice Dave McPeak in Soldier of Fortune The Relaxation Responses Herbert Benson, MD Aiding Women Vets Jacqueline Hanson VA's Officials Charged 7/88 DAV Magazine Problems with the VA AP Vietnam - US Relations Sudha Kamath IPS In Debt to the VA? Armed Forces Reunion BBS NAMVET2-09 5 September 1988 Here Goes Nothing Todd Looney Think about it G. Joseph Peck Readjustment Problems Jim Goodwin, Psy.D. Re-Evaluations Todd Looney GI Home Loan Pointers Todd Looney & VA Pamphlet 26-5 Vietnam Vet's Voice Laura Palmer Memories of a Warrior Mike Dacus Feeling Good Todd Looney Vets & VA Care Norman Black AP Laos Government Accounting Henry Gottlieb AP US Personnel With Evidence Todd Looney POW Families Can Sue Fayetteville, NC AP Not On This Wall Joan Renne NAMVET2-10 1 October 88 Getting Nearer! Todd Looney In Summation G. Joseph Peck COLA's for Veterans USSenator David Karnes Review Clears Committee House Vetrns Affrs Cmte VA Out of Service! Washington AP The Story of One POW Bill Herr, Jr. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Mike Dealey Day In Uniform Mike Gordon When CPL T. E. Williams Creches help With Food Asia Sctn UNICEF NY Vietnam War, A History S/Sgt C E Sonnie Hensley USAF (Ret) NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 101 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET2-11 5 November 88 Incarcerated Viet Vets Todd Looney Hidden Cages G. Joseph Peck Agent Orange Research N J Agent Orange Cmsn CA Job Referral Service Jim Deputy Women Vet's Memorial Sandra Cohen VWMF Vietnam era service V Chuck Sterling Come for Me??? LeAnn Thieman HERO Hathy S. Deatherage I AM A POW Anonymous YES Eugene E. Grollmes Memories David H. Pucket, MSgt./Ret. Bump In The Night Mike Dealey Isn't there ANYTHING Alan C. Harnack Reruns Joseph Miller Keep yer head down Hank Houghton S/Sgt Ret & G. Joseph Peck What if Anonymous Writing Incarcerated Vets Todd Looney Maggie's Drawers Mike Dealey The M.I.A. Question Andy Lightbody Vietnam Cooperates Washington Post POW Information Update Ann Mills Griffiths Natl POW/MIA Committee VFW Criticizes Vietnam AP & Glenn Toothman Amerasian Registry Todd Looney NAMVET's FIRST ANNIVERSARY ISSUE 11 November 1988 KidsNews Editorial Claude F. Witherspoon DEROS Delayed G. Joseph Peck Peace With Honor? Todd Looney PERILOUS JOURNEY Sharon Cohen AP Towards Understanding Jim Goodwin, Psy.D. Anatomy Of A Warrior Carole J. Lund Why Isn't Billy Up There? Mike Dealey Young Bleeder Lynda Van Devanter Dear Dad Lindy Harris Family Ties G. Joseph Peck Forget Me Not, America Susy So Schaller Red-Headed Nurse Glenn Toothman A Vets Trip To The Wall Glenn Toothman Mommy, Did You? Norma Boris Sermon From Mt Dong Quang Mike Dealey And I waited Anonymous Yahrzeit Anonymous A Different Battlefield G. Joseph Peck Brother Rat's Gourmet Mike Dealey & Todd Looney Taurus Doodie Thom Patten A Walk Through The Years Sean Smith The Wall Within Steve Mason NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 102 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET2-12 3 December 88 That Time of Year Again Todd Looney Welcome Home Vet Group Todd Looney Thanksgiving from KidsNews Claude F. Witherspoon For Veterans ONLY! TV News Armed Forces Reunion BBS Vietnam era service VI Chuck Sterling Missing Men Kim Shortall Isn't there ANYTHING Alan C. Harnack Between The Lines Eugene E. Grollmes Washington & KidsNews Claude F. Witherspoon VETERANS DAY 1988 Herb Reith NAMVET3-01 7 January 89 The Peace of a New Yea Todd Looney A New Year G. Joseph Peck Agent Orange Payments Due AP Interview a Vet Contest Lou Ann Merkle Life Insurance American Lgn Mag PTSD - A Presentation Dr. Jim Canfield Christmas Eve - RVN Style L/Cpl W. C. Roberts Vietnam era service VII Chuck Sterling Silent Night, Holy Night Raymond "Gus" Gustitus Kids of Vietnam Vets Kevin Boyle Safe Maj Michael Davis O'Donnel A War of Feelings A War of Memories A War of Open Wounds Who can I trust? Dennis Kiefer Supporting Viet Vets??? Donald A. Purvis, Sgt/Maj, USA, Ret A War Needing Response Women At War Women in Military Mem NAMVET3-02 4 February 89 The Treadmill Slowly Turns Todd Looney Short-timer G. Joseph Peck Stress and Viet Vets Richard P. Skodnek, M.D. Careful now Canadian Viet Vets Footprints in the Garden Tom Jacksine Affirmative Action: 98-77 G. Joseph Peck Arts of War Marc Leepson Did you know that... Canadian Viet Vets Where is my father? Newsweek Thunder & The 'Bush Vet Nina J. Easton NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 103 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET3-03 3 March 89 What's fair? G. Joseph Peck Marching Forth Todd Looney BOONIE RAT Song!!! Who Did It??? Where I've Been - I Janice Rogovin I Smelt A 'Nam Mike Dealey Wheeler and Me Ed Peterson Agent Orange Update Air Force Times Herbicide Exposure PA Dept of Health The VA System VA Publication Brief History of the VA VA Publication There Oughta Be A Law... Mainstream, Inc. Burial Benefits & The VA G. Joseph Peck MIA records AP OnLine Won't happen in America! Claude F. Witherspoon Vets battle stress AP OnLine Viet Nam pledges MIA help AP OnLine VetReach Program Todd Looney NAMVET3-04 4 April 89 Song of the Valhalla Todd Looney Don't Know Where I'm Going G. Joseph Peck The Job Connection US Dept of Labor Agent Orange A Priority AF Times Just Don't Fit Larry Heinemann Vietnam era service VIII Chuck Sterling An American Gary Rhyther A Place for Me Anonymous Stranger In Your Bed Susan Pennington Where I've Been - II Janice Rogovin NAMVET3-05 6 May 89 Stereotyping veterans??? Glenn Toothman This Account Past Due G. Joseph Peck May Showers Todd Looney Honor With Tears Jean Toler Reflections of a Viet Vet Spencer J. Campbell MSW USMC Day In Uniform Mike Gordon Rear Echelon Service? Mike Gordon Isn't there ANYTHING Alan C. Harnack Between the Lines Eugene E. Grollmes MISSING MEN Kim Shortall Stereotypical Thinking D. J. Lawrence VA's Viet Vets Study??? VA Publication Should we build a VETNET? G. Joseph Peck NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 104 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET3-06 10 June 89 And we did G. Joseph Peck Memorial Day - 1989 Don Purvis BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES Cathy Stallings In Memory of Jesse Reney Stephens Forgotten Warriors Aphrodite Matsakia Korean Conflict Memorial Congressman Esteban E Torres Personal Responsibility John Russell Smith Sweet bippies! James P. Meade, Jr. Ph.D. VA Medical Care Emergency 6/89 DAV Magazine AO Claims to be reviewed NY Times Point man confronts G-men Thomas J. Brazaitis Ho Chang Rod Germain The Ultimate Snatch Mike Dealey Veterans Guide to Benefits Ralph Roberts & G. Joseph Peck Comments about The Wall Anonymous NAMVET3-07 1 July 89 Alive and Kicking Todd Looney A certain magic G. Joseph Peck Vets in Prison US Dept of Justice POW's - What's to be done? Tom Wieber Monk Sights POW's! Tom Wieber IVVEC Talks about our flag Messages from IVVEC Stars and Stripes Shaw-Barton Bush and the Flag The Berkshire Eagle AP The White Horse Rod Germain A light in the storm Tzipporah Benavraham Two Walls G. Joseph Peck Going Back Tom Condon A Chance to Understand Bob Janicki Q&A Re: Agent Orange Payment AO Pmt Program NAMVET3-08 12 August 89 Nearing Two Years! Todd Looney Teaching my children? G. Joseph Peck Dear Editor and Veterans... Joyce Flory POWs Abandoned?? Glenn Toothman Remember the vets Steven Bentley Our Country's Flag The American Legion DAV endorses Federal Action 8/89 DAV Magazine Higher Ante on Patriotism New Haven Register Vietnam Era Extension Joan Renne A Widow's Case VVA Legal Svcs Veterans Appeals Court 8/89 DAV Magazine Not To Be Forgotten Central ID Labratory A Trip Too Far M.A. Farber Last Patrol Ranch Glenn Toothman Twenty Years Michael Rodriguez Feeling of a Nam Vet Glenn Toothman Daniel and the Six Day War Tzipporah Benavraham The Sixties Lloyd Blankenship Veterans Patrol Together Glenn Toothman Eyes Glenn Toothman Viet Vet Develops Bob Richards & G. Joseph Peck NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 105 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET3-09 4 September 89 Energy??? G. Joseph Peck Twenty Two Years Later Martin H. Kroll, Sr. Two Kinds of American Hero Stephen T. Banko, III Scott Barnes & Bohica Dennis W. Bartow Imprisoned Vets' Benefits The VVA Veteran A Letter Home G. Joseph Peck Welcome Home Bobbie Bob Johnstone Claiming your VA Benefits 7/89 American Lgn Mag VA Eligibility Criteria G.V. (Sonny) Montgomery Your Veteran Data Record 7/89 American Lgn Mag Battlin' City Hall G. Joseph Peck Lefty does Pleiku!!! Lefty Frizzell The Wall... Sgt Robert A Chapin Vietnam Veteran S. M. Whiting Freedom Cadence PFC James A. Germain Where are the answers? Joe Lizotte Where's NAM VET going? G. Joseph Peck NAMVET3-10 7 October 89 News from the Valhalla Todd Looney Comin' together now!!! G. Joseph Peck Until the last... Glenn Toothman IN TOUCH Friends of the Viet Vets Memorial IN TOUCH Application! Friends of the Viet Vets Memorial Find that Veteran!!! Rod Germain Self Destruction Todd Looney The Silent Warrior Karen Winnett Brothers Landon Thorne Silent Shot A Viet Vets Wife Families on the Brink Aphrodite Matsakis One Vet's Path Stan Campbell America...WAKE UP! Claude F. Witherspoon Herbicide Usage In 'Nam Martin H. Kroll, Sr. Cancer and the Viet Vet Oklahoma Agent Orange Fndtn The VVA A/O victory VVA Veteran Here Kitty, Kitty... Lefty Frizzell I am a Veteran of Vietnam Sue Halpern Faces of Vietnam Kenneth Wolfe The Walk Charles M. Purcell Murphy's Laws of Combat Lt Col Jack Finch, USA (Ret.) Time Frame G. Joseph Peck Viet Nam War Museum Glenn Toothman & WNWM Newsletter Non-Competitive Jobs!!! Congressman Esteban E. Torres NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 106 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Title Author/Contributor --------------------------- --------------------- NAMVET3-11 4 November 89 Expanded Services Todd Looney In the sand... G. Joseph Peck MIA's: Non-Negotiable Issue Richard K. Kolb Christ Died for Forgiveness John Schuchardt New Laws Affecting VETERANS 8/89 American Lgn Mag The Road to Recovery Joel Osler Brende, MD Erwin Randolph Parsons, Ph.D. Trip to 'Nam - Continued John Zutz, David Cline, Greg Payton Rebuildin' the 'Nam Peace Developments Our Flag - Ivvec Message Bob Richards Our Flag - Ivvec Message Jerry Hindle Our Flag - Ivvec Message G. Joseph Peck Ramblin' On Martin H. Kroll, Sr. Fallen Angels... Walter Dean Myers NAM VET Second Anniversary Edition Page 107 Volume 2, Number 1 November 11, 1989 Some Gave ALL ... Some Still Give!!! O O O SOME GAVE ALL ... ________O__________________________________O______________ ! O O ! ! pow mia pow mia - BRING THEM HOME NOW! - pow mia pow mia ! ! O O ! ! ~~~~~ ~ ~ O~ ~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~ O ~~ ~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~ ! ! ~~~~ ~ ~~ O ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~O~~~ ~~~ ~ ~~~~ ~~ ! ! ~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~ O~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~ O ~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~ ! ! ~~~ ~~ ~~ ~ O ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~ O ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ! ! ~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~ O ~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ O ~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ! ! ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~ O ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ O ~ ~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~ ! ! ~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ O ~_~_~_~_~_ ~ O ~ ~~~~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~ ~~ ! ! ~~~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~ ~ O ) O ~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~~ ! ! ~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ /(O) / O \ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ! ! ~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ / / O \~~~~ ~~ ~~~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~ ! ! ~~ ~ ~ ~~ ~~ / PRISONER / \~~ ~~ ~~ ~~~ ~ ~~~~~~ ! ! ~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~ / / MISSING \~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~~ ~ ~~ ! ! ~~~ ~ ~~ ~~ / OF /\ \~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~~~ ~ ! ! ~ ~~~~ ~~ ~ / / \ IN \~ ~~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ! ! ~~~ ~~~ ~ / WAR / ~~ \ \ ~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ! ! ~ ~~ ~~ ~ / / ~ ~~ \ ACTION / ~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~ ! ! ~~ ~~ ~~~(__________/ ~~ ~~~ \ / ~~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ! ! ~~~~~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~~~ \ / ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ! ! ~~ ~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~ ~~~ \ / ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~~~~~ ! ! ~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~~ \ /~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ ~ ! ! ~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~ ~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ! ~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~ ~~~ ~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~ SOME STILL GIVE ! ~ ~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ! ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ! ! mia pow mia pow - BRING THEM HOME NOW! - mia pow mia pow ! !__________________________________________________________! 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