Following is the text of the column Debbie Hazen wrote and published in the 7/23/09 issue of her newspaper, The Clatskanie Chief. It is also, until
7/29/09 on
their website at www.clatskaniechiefnews.com, (click on the OPINION tab to view it), and in a few weeks will be on the
www.smalltownpapers.com website.
A Weekend with Company B
Editorial Comments by Deborah Steele Hazen
Flags were flying in the little town of Decatur, Mich. last Saturday, July 18, when two chartered busses pulled into the parking area of the VFW post.
Members of the Decatur Veterans of Foreign Wars lined the entrance of their spacious, well-kept brick hall holding signs of welcome and support for the veterans of
Company B, 2nd Battalion, 501st Infantry, 101st Airborne Division, which served in Vietnam - in some of the toughest conditions, locations and battles - from 1967 to
1972.
A military color guard in camouflage fatigues - ranging in age from soldiers in their 20s to Vietnam vets - performed a brief, precisely-executed presentation of the
colors and a welcoming salute to the approximately 50 members of Company B and about the same number of accompanying wives and other family members, including myself
and my huband Phil, who served in Vietnam with B-CO 2/501/101st from April 1969 to the end of March 1970.
After the color guard ceremony we were ushered over to a Cobra gunship (helicopter) that is displayed on the grounds of the Decatur VFW Post along with tanks and other military equipment.
Group portraits were taken in front of the helicopter, and then it was back inside for fried chicken, roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, numerous side dishes, and -
to remind the “Screaming Eagles” of one of the lighter sides of the military service - pound cake and peaches for dessert.
The warmth, love and support expressed by the people of Decatur - who flew their flags and put out signs of welcome on our behalf - and especially the hospitality and
honorable treatment by the VFW post members; the fun and camaraderie between this “band of brothers” and their loved ones during the banquet and fundraising drawings
that followed, were among the highlights of this year’s reunion which was hosted by Leo (known as “Doc” because he was a medic) and Ann Flory of Decatur, a town of
about 1900 in southwest Michigan.
Saturday evening’s festivities were the culmination of the reunion that began for us on Wednesday morning, July 15, when Phil and I left Clatskanie, boarded a flight
from Portland to Detroit, then changed to a smaller plane for a short hop to Kalamazoo, a city of approximately 250,000 that is about a 40 mile drive from Decatur.
The hotel where our hosts had reserved a block of rooms and meeting facilities was within walking distance of the small Kalamazoo airport, but we didn’t realize that
when we called for a ride. One of the men from the company - Mike “Doc” Edwards of Arkansas - picked us up in his crew cab pickup.
There were two other men, Bob Worrall of San Antonio, Tex. and Darrel Heinsohn of Sayre, Okla., plus Darrel’s wife Kathy on the flight with us.
Phil, Darrel and Bob threw the luggage and themselves into the back of the pickup, and Kathy and I climbed inside with “Doc.” About two minutes later we were
unloading at the hotel.
Kalamazoo is on eastern time, so when we arrived it was 7:30 p.m., even though it was only 4:30 on the West Coast.
We checked in, then went out to the lobby and up to the meeting room to greet other early arrivals, before joining our friend Al Werth of Traverse City, Mich. for
dinner at a nearby restaurant. Then, more visiting until bedtime.
The men of B-CO 2/501/101st and their wives plan the reunions so that they are mainly unstructured, encouraging long conversations, the sharing of memories,
strengthening the ties that are already unbreakable, helping those in need of understanding.
I love listening to the veterans tell their stories, but I also enjoy building friendships with the women - we also share much.
The Daughters and Wives of Heroes
Besides the reuniting there were various optional activities. On Thursday we went to “Air Zoo,” the Kalamazoo Aviation History Museum, which has many interesting
examples of civilian and military aircraft.
In the middle of the main building is a small theater, and on the wall beside it is a mural of a World War II B-17 bomber, “Kalamazoo Gal,” which was shot down while
returning from a bombing mission over Nazi Germany.
The 4-D animated movie shown in the little theater is the story of the last flight of “Kalamazoo Gal” as told from the point of view of the lone survivor.
As we entered the theater, the man at the door noticed our name tags which bore the “Screaming Eagle” logo.
“Were you with the 101st,” he asked me. “Well, these men were,” I replied. “They served in the A Shau Valley in Vietnam.”
“I was with the Americal Division,” he responded. “We were right near them.”
“Thank you,” he said simply to the men wearing the “Screaming Eagle” name tags as they entered and left the theater.
“He was with the Americal Division,” I told Phil.
“Thank you!” said Phil, and they shook hands like the comrades-in-arms they are.
While my father’s eyesight kept him in a support position, he was very proud to have served as the cryptographer (decoder) for an Army Air Corps bombardment squadron
in Europe during World War II.
Because he had so often expressed his admiration for those flight crews, because he had the opportunity to ride in the ball turret gunner’s position right after the
war ended, and because I had recently written about the sacrifices of the Erickson brothers of Quincy, one of whom (Harold) was killed when his B-24 was shotdown over
Austria, I found the approximately 20-minute-long presentation on the “Kalamazoo Gal,” particularly interesting and moving.
As the lights went up, one of the other wives who was sitting beside me asked if I had a tissue. I did and I needed one, too.
“That kind of got to me,” she said. “My father was a prisoner of war,” spending over a year in a German prison camp.
It made me think about the fact that women of the “Baby Boomer” generation are potentially, as I am, the granddaughters of World War I veterans, the daughters of
World War II veterans and the wives of Vietnam veterans. Some of the women at the reunion are also the mothers of soldiers in the war on terror.
“We are the daughters and wives of heroes,” I told my new friend. She agreed.
A Warm Welcome on the Lake Michigan Shore
By Friday afternoon, 52 veterans of B-CO 2/501/101st had arrived in Kalamazoo - the most ever for a reunion. Among them were eight who were attending for the first
time. Their arrival was celebrated as long lost brothers come home at last.
During a meeting Friday afternoon, “Doc” Edwards said he and his wife Jane were willing to host the 2011 reunion at Branson, Mo. The offer was enthusiastically
received.
Saturday morning we got up early (for me anyway, I was still on West Coast time), breakfasted together in the hotel dining room, then climbed aboard the chartered
buses for the approximately hour and a half drive to the charming town of South Haven, on the shore of Lake Michigan.
The buses brought us to the door of the South Haven American Legion Hall where we were greeted with a banner and a warm welcome from one of the Legion officers.
The hall is perched on a bluff above the narrow channel which leads from Lake Michigan to the South Haven harbor. A couple of hundred yards away was the lake - my
first glimpse of one of the “Great Lakes” - sapphire blue under the mostly sunny sky and lightening to turquoise near the shoreline.
We spent the next couple of hours exploring South Haven. Six of us enjoyed a visit to the maritime museum and an on-board exploration of the “Friendship Goodwill,”
a replica of the early 19th century merchant sailing “sloop,” that was captured by the British during the War of 1812, then burned at Buffalo, N.Y. The replica was
built five years ago and is used for education in maritime history and excursions on Lake Michigan.
Back at the South Haven Legion hall, B-CO 2/501/101st was treated to lunch and words of support and thanks for their service.
They were warmed and moved by the treatment they received from the Legionnaires in South Haven and by the hospitality at the Decatur VFW that evening.
Several compared it to the hometown welcome they received in Clatskanie two years ago when Phil and I, and Dave and Pam Krautscheid of Portland hosted the biannual
reunion,
Dave was wounded shortly after Phil arrived in the A Shau Valley in the mountainous and lightly-populated northern region of South Vietnam where the 101st Airborne
Division was regularly engaged in firefights and battles with North Vietnamese forces infiltrating South Vietnam over the Ho Chi Minh Trail.
Because their service in Vietnam overlapped by only a few days, Phil and Dave never got to know each other until they met at a reunion in Kansas City in 2003. Since
then we have become good friends.
Unbreakable Bonds
The friendships that have been renewed and developed between these men who walked through the valley of death together four decades ago is a wondrous thing to witness.
Some of them have long since come to terms with having sacrificed their youth in America’s most unpopular war, and look back on it with a mixture of sadness and pride.
Some have scars which are in the process of healing - physical, emotional or both.
Some are still actively battling the wounds, the losses, the memories of war, the rejection and worse that was inflicted upon them by ignorant, ungrateful, sometimes
hateful, fellow Americans.
Meeting with others who were there - who really understand how it was - helps them on the path of healing.
It is a privilege for those of us who weren’t there - but who love them - to watch and listen as they pore over photo albums, documents and maps, telling war stories,
pausing momentarily when their voices crack and their eyes moisten. It is something that happens to them all from time to time, and something that they all understand.
Although we weren’t there and can never fully comprehend, the wives wipe away tears as well.
There is laughter too - heartfelt and belly deep - as the funny old stories are told, as we kid each other about our accents. “We Oregonians don’t have an accent, but
you...”
We come to these reunions from all over the United States - from Oregon to New Jersey, from Texas to Minnesota, from Oklahoma to Louisiana, from Florida to Ohio, from
Long Island to Arizona.
We sound a bit different. The shades of our skin and ethnicity varies. Some are rich, some are poor and most are somewhere in between.
There are professionals and tradesmen, entrepreneurs and blue collar workers, farmers, teachers and small business owners.
A few have died in the past decade or so, and some are dealing with personal or family illnesses. Many are retired or preparing for retirement, and others are working
full-time, looking for work, or even expanding their businesses.
The men of Bravo Company represent a cross section of America, but they have an unbreakable bond. And, we, their wives and loved ones, are bound together as well.
