thedrifter
05-23-06, 07:59 AM
Where wall rises, divisions fall
Vietnam memorial - Two men, of different lands and lives, will join in honoring the dead at a traveling tribute
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
MARK LARABEE
The Oregonian
Many threads connect former U.S. Air Force Staff Sgt. John Neuman of Welches to his six years in Vietnam. Veterans seek his help, Agent Orange-related diseases plague him, and vivid dreams of wounded boys and body bags sometimes fill his nights.
Bac-Ai Nguyen of Aloha is also connected to his former homeland. He joined the South Vietnamese marines at 16, scouting for U.S. special forces. His Vietnam memories are of constant struggle and war.
One is a 59-year-old American whose life was shaped by war's violence and the emotional scars suffered when he returned to an ungrateful nation. The other is a 53-year-old American who in 1975 fled his country as it crumbled in chaos, then struggled to find his way in a nation so peaceful it took him years to accept.
Those paths cross today as a Vietnam Memorial Traveling Wall comes to Lincoln Memorial Park in Southeast Portland. Through Sunday, 50,000 Vietnam veterans, family members of those who died and those with little or no connection to the war are expected to visit the three-quarter-size replica of the popular memorial in Washington, D.C.
There are 58,249 names -- 806 Oregonians -- etched into black stone on Maya Lin's understated and haunting tribute to the men and women who died. The last time a traveling wall came to Portland was in 1992.
Veterans say the visit has increased significance this Memorial Day weekend, when the United States is again fighting an unpopular war. Thirty-five years ago, the Vietnam War tore the country apart politically and culturally. It changed how the military fights wars and still shapes public opinion. But its veterans are stepping up to say no matter how people feel about the war in Iraq, it's important that troops get support.
The wall gives Vietnam veterans a way to offer one another support and healing. Perhaps most importantly, they say, it offers tribute to soldiers who never returned and to welcome them home.
"I am finally ready," Neuman said, choking back tears. "It's time for some healing. For 30 years, I suppressed this thing. But for the first time -- it may not be in body -- but in spirit, I'll be with them all again."
Scourge of Agent Orange
Neuman ambles into a room wearing dark aviator shades, a black beret and a leather vest filled with medals, patches and pins that speak to his pride, seriousness and dedication.
He is the founder of Vietnam Veterans of Oregon and Members of the Community, one of the few veterans service organizations that welcomes civilians. Neuman is also the Oregon and Washington director for the Order of the Silver Rose, a national group honoring soldiers affected by Agent Orange, the defoliant that he says caused his diabetes, a heart attack and quadruple bypass at 49, and his prostate, liver and kidney problems.
The government does not award purple hearts to veterans injured or killed by Agent Orange exposure. The Order of the Silver Rose group estimates that more than 600,000 service members have died from these diseases, and that Vietnam veterans are now dying at a rate of 350 a day. This week at the wall, ceremonies will honor veterans with Agent Orange-related health problems.
It seems incongruous that a man so involved with veterans issues has never seen the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. This time around, Neuman will literally lead the way, flying two American flags on his pickup as motorcyclists escort a semi-truck and trailer carrying the wall up Interstate 5 from Fresno, Calif. The wall is sponsored by the Dignity Memorial network of funeral homes and cemeteries.
When he tells stories of his time in Vietnam -- transporting wounded or dead soldiers in his cargo plane -- it becomes clear why Neuman stayed away from the wall. It also explains why Neuman volunteered for five more tours, serving in 12 of the 18 U.S. campaigns in Vietnam.
After his first tour, a 19-year-old Neuman returned to Portland to be confronted by protesters, one of whom spat on him as he walked off the plane.
"Like a lot of vets, I didn't feel comfortable in the States," he said. "We weren't welcome. We were greeted by protesters and called baby killers."
He immediately signed up for another year in Vietnam. Neuman was a U.S. Air Force crew chief on a C-130 cargo plane. He told of landing in "hot zones" to pick up wounded soldiers or to load body bags for the somber ride to the rear areas.
Men killed in the field were bagged and left outside in humid, tropical heat, sometimes for days before they could be retrieved, he said. Opening or puncturing the bags was an unforgivable mistake.
"It's a smell you will never forget," Neuman said. "We would start loading the bodies, and I would wonder if it was somebody I knew. In my nightmares, I'd unzip the bags, and it would be a family member or I would be looking at myself."
After six years in Vietnam, Neuman came home in 1973. He went into restaurant management, eventually becoming a district manager for Denny's. He took a disability retirement after the Agent Orange diseases kicked in.
In 1994, he was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. For nearly three decades, he had suppressed it by laboring daily until he was so exhausted he could fall asleep. He dealt with his diagnosis, in part, by reaching out to other veterans.
"Vets have adopted a motto," he said. "Never again shall one generation turn against another."
A party for 12,000
Bac-Ai Nguyen smiles as he talks about the time he went to a Vietnamese New Year's celebration in the basement of Benson High School. There were 20 tables and 200 people. On the ride home, he felt ashamed that he had not done more in his life to unite the Vietnamese community of 30,000 in Oregon, two-thirds of whom live in the Portland area.
He vowed the next celebration would be better. So he rented a hotel ballroom and ran his wife's credit card to its $10,000 limit. This year, the New Year's party budget will be $72,000, and more than 12,000 people are expected to attend. The profits will pay for scholarships and community service projects.
Nguyen, an American Family Insurance agent, is president of the Oregon Vietnamese Community Association, which he founded in 2001. He says maintaining cultural roots and building community is important work. With a laugh, he acknowledges that it's a long way from his war-torn childhood.
When Nguyen was 10, his father was taken prisoner by North Vietnamese soldiers. Nguyen figured he'd never see him again. But 33 years later, his father was released from a labor camp and came to live in Portland.
Nguyen came to Portland at 22, the military life the only one he'd ever really known. In 1978, after two years of struggling to get by, he became a U.S. citizen and joined the Marine Corps because, he said, he felt that's where he belonged. He stayed in the military for four years.
Nguyen said he hopes his involvement in the ceremonies at the wall will help break down cultural, political and racial barriers.
"The names on the wall were given to the Vietnamese people," Nguyen said. "As a community leader, I feel strongly to get my community involved to show the families of the people on the wall that we are grateful for what they did, for their sacrifice and for us being here."
Two years ago, Nguyen said he attended a ceremony at the Vietnam memorial at Hoyt Arboretum in Portland in which a U.S. Army general gave a speech. Afterward, a woman approached Nguyen and apologized. She said she'd always hated Vietnamese people because her brother died in the war. The speech taught her that Vietnam was a civil war, and that her brother had died fighting to defend freedom in the south.
"My dream is to somehow let the American public know that 2 million South Vietnamese people died during the war," he said. "There's no wall to talk about them."
Like Neuman, Nguyen believes it's important that people support the troops.
"They don't have a choice," he said. "Don't blame them for the decisions that the government made. When they come home, it's their home, and the people should welcome them."
Mark Larabee: 503-294-7664; marklarabee@news.oregonian.com
Vietnam memorial - Two men, of different lands and lives, will join in honoring the dead at a traveling tribute
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
MARK LARABEE
The Oregonian
Many threads connect former U.S. Air Force Staff Sgt. John Neuman of Welches to his six years in Vietnam. Veterans seek his help, Agent Orange-related diseases plague him, and vivid dreams of wounded boys and body bags sometimes fill his nights.
Bac-Ai Nguyen of Aloha is also connected to his former homeland. He joined the South Vietnamese marines at 16, scouting for U.S. special forces. His Vietnam memories are of constant struggle and war.
One is a 59-year-old American whose life was shaped by war's violence and the emotional scars suffered when he returned to an ungrateful nation. The other is a 53-year-old American who in 1975 fled his country as it crumbled in chaos, then struggled to find his way in a nation so peaceful it took him years to accept.
Those paths cross today as a Vietnam Memorial Traveling Wall comes to Lincoln Memorial Park in Southeast Portland. Through Sunday, 50,000 Vietnam veterans, family members of those who died and those with little or no connection to the war are expected to visit the three-quarter-size replica of the popular memorial in Washington, D.C.
There are 58,249 names -- 806 Oregonians -- etched into black stone on Maya Lin's understated and haunting tribute to the men and women who died. The last time a traveling wall came to Portland was in 1992.
Veterans say the visit has increased significance this Memorial Day weekend, when the United States is again fighting an unpopular war. Thirty-five years ago, the Vietnam War tore the country apart politically and culturally. It changed how the military fights wars and still shapes public opinion. But its veterans are stepping up to say no matter how people feel about the war in Iraq, it's important that troops get support.
The wall gives Vietnam veterans a way to offer one another support and healing. Perhaps most importantly, they say, it offers tribute to soldiers who never returned and to welcome them home.
"I am finally ready," Neuman said, choking back tears. "It's time for some healing. For 30 years, I suppressed this thing. But for the first time -- it may not be in body -- but in spirit, I'll be with them all again."
Scourge of Agent Orange
Neuman ambles into a room wearing dark aviator shades, a black beret and a leather vest filled with medals, patches and pins that speak to his pride, seriousness and dedication.
He is the founder of Vietnam Veterans of Oregon and Members of the Community, one of the few veterans service organizations that welcomes civilians. Neuman is also the Oregon and Washington director for the Order of the Silver Rose, a national group honoring soldiers affected by Agent Orange, the defoliant that he says caused his diabetes, a heart attack and quadruple bypass at 49, and his prostate, liver and kidney problems.
The government does not award purple hearts to veterans injured or killed by Agent Orange exposure. The Order of the Silver Rose group estimates that more than 600,000 service members have died from these diseases, and that Vietnam veterans are now dying at a rate of 350 a day. This week at the wall, ceremonies will honor veterans with Agent Orange-related health problems.
It seems incongruous that a man so involved with veterans issues has never seen the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. This time around, Neuman will literally lead the way, flying two American flags on his pickup as motorcyclists escort a semi-truck and trailer carrying the wall up Interstate 5 from Fresno, Calif. The wall is sponsored by the Dignity Memorial network of funeral homes and cemeteries.
When he tells stories of his time in Vietnam -- transporting wounded or dead soldiers in his cargo plane -- it becomes clear why Neuman stayed away from the wall. It also explains why Neuman volunteered for five more tours, serving in 12 of the 18 U.S. campaigns in Vietnam.
After his first tour, a 19-year-old Neuman returned to Portland to be confronted by protesters, one of whom spat on him as he walked off the plane.
"Like a lot of vets, I didn't feel comfortable in the States," he said. "We weren't welcome. We were greeted by protesters and called baby killers."
He immediately signed up for another year in Vietnam. Neuman was a U.S. Air Force crew chief on a C-130 cargo plane. He told of landing in "hot zones" to pick up wounded soldiers or to load body bags for the somber ride to the rear areas.
Men killed in the field were bagged and left outside in humid, tropical heat, sometimes for days before they could be retrieved, he said. Opening or puncturing the bags was an unforgivable mistake.
"It's a smell you will never forget," Neuman said. "We would start loading the bodies, and I would wonder if it was somebody I knew. In my nightmares, I'd unzip the bags, and it would be a family member or I would be looking at myself."
After six years in Vietnam, Neuman came home in 1973. He went into restaurant management, eventually becoming a district manager for Denny's. He took a disability retirement after the Agent Orange diseases kicked in.
In 1994, he was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. For nearly three decades, he had suppressed it by laboring daily until he was so exhausted he could fall asleep. He dealt with his diagnosis, in part, by reaching out to other veterans.
"Vets have adopted a motto," he said. "Never again shall one generation turn against another."
A party for 12,000
Bac-Ai Nguyen smiles as he talks about the time he went to a Vietnamese New Year's celebration in the basement of Benson High School. There were 20 tables and 200 people. On the ride home, he felt ashamed that he had not done more in his life to unite the Vietnamese community of 30,000 in Oregon, two-thirds of whom live in the Portland area.
He vowed the next celebration would be better. So he rented a hotel ballroom and ran his wife's credit card to its $10,000 limit. This year, the New Year's party budget will be $72,000, and more than 12,000 people are expected to attend. The profits will pay for scholarships and community service projects.
Nguyen, an American Family Insurance agent, is president of the Oregon Vietnamese Community Association, which he founded in 2001. He says maintaining cultural roots and building community is important work. With a laugh, he acknowledges that it's a long way from his war-torn childhood.
When Nguyen was 10, his father was taken prisoner by North Vietnamese soldiers. Nguyen figured he'd never see him again. But 33 years later, his father was released from a labor camp and came to live in Portland.
Nguyen came to Portland at 22, the military life the only one he'd ever really known. In 1978, after two years of struggling to get by, he became a U.S. citizen and joined the Marine Corps because, he said, he felt that's where he belonged. He stayed in the military for four years.
Nguyen said he hopes his involvement in the ceremonies at the wall will help break down cultural, political and racial barriers.
"The names on the wall were given to the Vietnamese people," Nguyen said. "As a community leader, I feel strongly to get my community involved to show the families of the people on the wall that we are grateful for what they did, for their sacrifice and for us being here."
Two years ago, Nguyen said he attended a ceremony at the Vietnam memorial at Hoyt Arboretum in Portland in which a U.S. Army general gave a speech. Afterward, a woman approached Nguyen and apologized. She said she'd always hated Vietnamese people because her brother died in the war. The speech taught her that Vietnam was a civil war, and that her brother had died fighting to defend freedom in the south.
"My dream is to somehow let the American public know that 2 million South Vietnamese people died during the war," he said. "There's no wall to talk about them."
Like Neuman, Nguyen believes it's important that people support the troops.
"They don't have a choice," he said. "Don't blame them for the decisions that the government made. When they come home, it's their home, and the people should welcome them."
Mark Larabee: 503-294-7664; marklarabee@news.oregonian.com