A time to remember

By Don Hanway This year marked the 23rd Annual Reunion of Nebraska Vietnam Veterans, the first such reunion I have attended. As I walked into the display and registration area of the Quality Hotel in Hastings (the former Holiday Inn) on August 17, it seemed to me that most of the vets were older than I am. That couldn’t be true: I was 23 when I was “in country,” and a lot of these men were probably younger than that when they served. Why did I attend the reunion? What did I expect? Why had I not attended one before? I had only heard of the reunions about three years before, and only attended this one at the urging of a friend. I assumed these gatherings were mostly for the guys who had the roughest experiences over there, and that I would feel marginal. To this day, my year in Vietnam (1967–68) remains the most memorable of my life. I can still recall in vivid detail the sights and sounds and smells of daily life there, the peculiar challenges I faced, the colorful characters I encountered. So far as I know I didn’t directly kill anyone, and no one pointed a weapon directly at me. I made the acquaintance of some people while I was there who didn’t make it back; but how could I relate to the warriors who had inflicted and seen death up close and personally? As I wandered around the assembly area, I saw a lot of stuff for sale: hats, shirts, pins and other memorabilia. I bought two hats—one an attractive bargain, one of special relevance to my experience as a Signal Corps officer. Besides the barrage of souvenirs, a lot of services to vets were being offered: assistance in dealing with issues of disability, Agent Orange, post-traumatic stress disorder, and the intricacies of a government bureaucracy that often seems designed more to discourage than to assist returning veterans. A number of seminars were offered during the main two days of the event. I attended one giving an update on the status of prisoners of war and persons missing in action. The speaker was the wife of a high-ranking retired military intelligence officer; he was along in a supporting role. Their son is one of the POWs never satisfactorily accounted for. He was declared “presumptively dead,” despite evidence to the contrary. The or­gan­ization of family members of POWs/MIAs was formed around 1970 and did not disband after the war, even when the government said there was no longer a need for it. There are still 1,800 troops unaccounted for from Vietnam—a much smaller number than from World War II, but no less disturbing in light of the many instances of misrepresentation that have been documented. It was quite evident that this couple had done their homework. The status of persons missing and allegedly dead from recent and current conflicts was also addressed. All in all, the seminar was eye-opening and unsettling. The opening ceremonies and dinner on Friday evening were moving and impressive, as Gold Star families present (those who have lost an immediate family member) were recognized, and a number of dignitaries, including Senator Hagel, paid tribute to those who had served. As one T-shirt I saw put it, “Some Gave All, All Gave Some.” How did the reunion match up with my modest expectations? The organizers made every effort to offer an event that was enjoyable and helpful. I expected not to fit in, and it was true that I knew only one other veteran present; but I met a number of congenial people, and no doubt could have met more. I came away renewed in my sense of being part of a large family of men and women who have served their country in extraordinary circumstances. The most arresting and meaningful happening for me took place on Friday afternoon in one of the corridors of the hotel, when a wiry little guy in full veteran regalia said to me simply and sincerely, “Welcome home.” It took a moment for the full significance of this remark to sink in. Then it hit me full force: This was the first time in nearly 40 years since my return from “over there” that anyone outside of family or close friends had conveyed that message personally to me. Coming from this old veteran in the hallway, the words had a special poignancy, though I was to hear them repeated many times later in the day. Here was a fellow soldier who spoke the words all of us who served need to hear, and he spoke them out of his own experience, which no doubt was very different from mine and yet in many ways was the same.