This declaration would soon be viewed as premature and would later haunt Nixon’s national security adviser and top negotiator. Sybil’s gut reaction was that Kissinger’s declaration was just more of the same old blah-blah. She was sliding down into another depression due to the war and financial issues at home. “The fact that the Peace is at Hand statement didn’t produce anything really was just further evidence to me that the war would probably go on forever.”56
League board member and MIA wife Sallie Stratton was also disappointed. Her feelings were reflected in a statement the League itself had issued expressing its members’ distress:
The Families of Americans who are missing and held captive in Southeast Asia had harbored desperate hopes that a peace treaty could be signed before Christmas and that at least some of our men, particularly the sick and injured and those men held for long years, would be quickly reunited with their families.
We had expected that all other prisoners might be home by March and that identification and accounting would be taking place in the interim. Now we know that we must face another Christmas with no immediate peace in sight. It is a bitter prospect and the disappointments and frustrations are severe.57
There were growing feelings of hopelessness among the League membership. Joan Vinson was the chairwoman of the League’s Non-Partisan Political Action Committee, which sent out a voter appeal made clear on that the organization was not taking political sides in the election.
“We acclaim no one. We endorse no one. We are not on anyone’s bandwagon. We want and need you all on ours.” At the bottom of the appeal was this chilling slogan:
“The POW’s ARE DYING TO VOTE!”58
The president was reelected on November 7 in one of the biggest election landslides in American history.59 Many POW and MIA wives apparently still felt that if McGovern had prevailed, all would be lost for the POWs and MIAs. With Nixon remaining at the helm, Sybil, Phyllis, Sallie, and many others reasoned, perhaps the men still had a fighting chance.
* * *
For many of the wives, six or more years had passed since their husbands were shot down. Children born when their fathers left for Vietnam had never met their dads. Holidays, birthdays, weddings, and funerals came and went for these families while the men languished in prison or their whereabouts remained unknown. Many of the women were struggling to be full-time activists as well as both mother and father to their children. It was all becoming too much to bear.
Jim Stockdale Jr. graduated from Ohio Wesleyan University, and Sid, a crew star at South Kent Prep School, in Connecticut, was selected to row in the Junior Olympics in Milan. The children were all doing well, but financially Sybil was worried. She had invested in two condos at Mammoth Mountain, California, before realizing she could not afford them. She began to slip back into the fog of depression she had experienced in the fall of 1970 in Washington. She started seeing a civilian therapist and hired an attorney to help her sort out her finances. Jim might never come home, so she needed to prepare for the worst.60
On December 18, Nixon ordered the Air Force B-52s to bomb Hanoi. The offensive, which the government named Operation Linebacker II, soon became better known as the “Christmas bombing.” Naturally, the action was unpopular with the antiwar lobby, both foreign and domestic. “The prime minister of Sweden [Olof Palme] compared the United States to Nazi Germany,” wrote historian Geoffrey Ward. “James Reston, of The New York Times, pronounced the raids ‘war by tantrum.’”61
The bombing was exactly what the prisoners in Hanoi and their families had been hoping for.
In the North Vietnamese prisons, the POWs cheered wildly when they heard the bombs. Prisoner John McCain painted a vivid scene of the reaction of the prisoners held with him in Hanoi: “Despite our proximity to the targets, we were jubilant. We hollered in near euphoria as the ground beneath us shook with the force of the blasts, exulting in our guards’ fear as they scurried for shelter. We clapped each other on the back and joked about packing our bags for home. We shouted ‘Thank you!’ to the night sky.”62 Robbie Risner, one of the group of defiant POWs dubbed the “Alcatraz Eleven,” reinforced McCain’s account: “On the 18th of December—I think that was the first night of the B52 raids—there was never such joy seen in our camp before.”63
The men hoped and prayed that the war might finally be coming to its conclusion. After eleven days of bombing Hanoi, the capital city was in shreds. Kissinger’s take? “I think the Christmas bombing broke their back.”64
After years of stalling subterfuge and fruitless exchanges at the Paris peace talks, the North Vietnamese finally came back to the negotiating table. (Perhaps Chiang Kai-shek had been right all along.) On December 29, the bombing stopped, and the Vietnam War was on its way to its final conclusion.
Seventeen
“WE CHOSE TO BE TOGETHER”
ON JANUARY 1, SYBIL REFLECTED on the new year in her diary. Like Jane, Phyllis, Helene, Andrea, Kathleen, and all the other POW and MIA wives, she could “not help but wonder, as always, if this will be the year Jim comes home. Time has never dragged before as it does now.” Then she wrote out her New Year’s resolutions:
1. Swim every day
2. Write in diary regularly
3. Keep positive attitude1
Seven years and four months had passed since Jim’s capture. Jane had lost Jerry seven years and five months ago. Phyllis had waited for Paul for six and a half years now. Louise had waited for Jim for almost seven years. Andrea had waited for Donald for almost five years.
But those five women were more fortunate than some, in that they knew their husbands were alive. For the past six years, Helene had not known Herman’s fate, and for seven and a half long years, Kathleen had received no word of Bruce. A seeming eternity had passed for all of these women, as well as for Janie, Dot, Joan, Sallie, Sandy, Bonnie, Karen, Jenny, Debby, Patsy, and hundreds more POW/MIA wives and family members, since their loved ones’ capture or disappearance.
Some thought they could not take the waiting for even one day longer. But they had little choice but to continue their lonely vigil and pray that a resolution would finally come. Would Kissinger finalize his agreement with the North Vietnamese, or would this result in yet another crushing disappointment? Sybil’s resolution to keep a positive attitude was surely the hardest one for her to implement.
POW/MIA families were on edge in January regarding the war’s resolution. Congress was gearing up for a big fight when it reconvened on January 2. At issue: war funds. The Democratic Congress had announced it would cut off war funds if there was no settlement with the North Vietnamese by January 20, Inauguration Day.2
Though Louise was not elected to the League’s 1972–73 board—perhaps she was considered too much of a firebrand—she wrote to Helene and Phyllis on January 9, thanking them for finally polling the membership. She admitted that she continued to harbor “very strong feelings about the running of the League,” especially when it came to making public statements. She felt that both Helene and Phyllis had been chosen because of their good judgment and integrity, and that therefore the two women should be able to make statements to the press about the League without checking in constantly with the board and the membership. However, Louise continued to feel that the League should “take a purely non-political stance and NO statements should be issued either publicly or privately from ANY ELECTED OFFICIAL.”3 She still felt that the humanitarian stance of the League lent it a special status that no political group could match.
On January 22, the day before the Paris Peace Accords were initialed, former president Lyndon Johnson died of congestive heart failure at his ranch in Texas.4 Most POW/MIA wives felt that his indecisive approach to the war had prolonged it. They now knew for a fact that his “keep quiet” policy had been damaging to their husbands’ welfare and perhaps had even prolonged their captivity. It is doubtful that they shed many tears over Johnson’s demise.
On January 23, Nixon addressed t
he nation in a televised address. During the broadcast, he announced that the peace treaty had been signed by Kissinger and Le Duc Tho in Paris at 12:30 p.m. local time. A cease-fire would take effect on Saturday, January 27. All American troops would be withdrawn during the subsequent sixty days. All prisoners of war in Indochina were to be released, also within that sixty-day period. The fullest possible accounting of American MIAs in Indochina was also expected. Aid to South Vietnam would continue within the terms of the agreement.
During the address, Nixon made a special point of praising and mentioning the efforts of the POW/MIA wives and families. He described them as “some of the bravest people I have ever met: the wives, the children, the families of our prisoners of war and missing in action.” He thanked this group for resisting antiwar activists and protesters calling for peace at any price. “When others called on us to settle on any terms, you had the courage to stand for the right kind of peace.”
“Nothing means more to me,” remarked the president, addressing the POW/MIA wives and families, “than the fact that your long vigil is coming to an end.”5
After Laird, Capen, Reagan, and others convinced him it was vitally important to support the POW/MIA issue, the president had been consistent in his support for the women. As in most marriages—personal or political—there were bumps in the road, disagreements and quarrels. But overall, it seemed as though Nixon really had been “the One” for the POW/MIA wives and their families. The president who would finally bring the prisoners home.
* * *
Fortuitously, the League board and its members were in Washington for their regular January board meeting just after the big announcement. Knowing this, Pentagon officials arranged to tell League board members their individual news at the Army and Navy Club all at one time. Helene told The Washington Post the next day, “We chose to be together” to hear about their husbands’ fates.
Helene and the Air Force wives met in one corner. The Navy wives, including Phyllis, huddled together in another area. And Iris Powers, the lone Army mother of a missing-in-action son, heard her news alone. Major General Verne Bowers told her that her son Lowell, missing in action since April 2, 1969, was not among the returning prisoners. Iris told the Post, “It hurts when you know it’s hopeless … But I felt so sorry for the general—I thought if I cried he would, so I didn’t.”6 Helene remembered it being “one of our most important and heart-wrenching meetings during my tenure as National Coordinator.”7
After the peace treaty was finally signed, the slow-motion lives so many POW wives had all felt they were living suddenly hit warp speed. It was a blur of cleaning, organizing, calls, interviews, dress shopping, hair appointments, and house decorating. Flowers and gifts began to pour in to celebrate the men’s return. Most of the wives were numb. Their hopes had been up and down for so long, they almost didn’t allow themselves to believe that their long-awaited reunions with their husbands might finally occur. Sybil’s reaction summed up how many of the women were feeling on January 23: “Just can’t believe it. Can it really happen? Just can’t believe Jim will really be home … Have optimistic but still skeptical attitude.”8 Phyllis was joyful but overwhelmed. In her diary on January 24, she noted, “Awoken by more calls! Kissinger had a 90-minute press conference giving specifics. Release could be soon … I’m a basket case.”9
Ever meticulous and organized, Phyllis even kept a spiral-bound notebook record of all the gifts and who gave them to her, with the name of the gift giver and date received. This way she would remember to whom she owed a thank-you note. It felt like she and Paul were getting married all over again. One of the first gifts Phyllis received was an orchid corsage from Pat and Richard Nixon. She and Paul also received matching ski sweaters, champagne, bouquets of red, white, and blue flowers, a tennis club membership, and even a cartoon by Phyllis’s friend Jeff MacNelly, a Pulitzer Prize–winning Richmond News Leader editorial cartoonist.10
When she was interviewed by Life magazine about her husband’s impending return, Louise Mulligan jokingly mentioned that she had bought a new house with a lavender bedroom. She noted, “Well, there’s no way Jim Mulligan is going to live with lavender. We painted the room but the drapes are still up, lavender with blue tassels. Every time one of the kids comes in, I hear, Mother, when are you going to get rid of them?”11 In fact, the entire house had been pink when Louise purchased it, and the shades in the master bedroom were decorated with pink pom-poms. Louise and the boys had taken care of that immediately by repainting every room and jettisoning the offending shades.12 Of course, house decor was not of any real concern to her. Louise’s main fears were for her sons and how they would relate to their father after his long absence. “The group psychiatrist says the boys are all young men now and it will be between them and their father. It will have nothing to do with me. They’ll have to make their own peace.”13
Andrea Rander was excited to feed her POW husband, Donald. She had been practicing her cooking to get ready. “Donald loved to eat. I can’t wait to fatten him up.” But, like Louise, Andrea’s more pressing issues concerning her husband’s return were family-based. It had been almost five years since she last saw him, and she was worried about how this would affect their relationship. “I’m mentally trying to get us back together even before he gets here. We had a pretty good marriage, but I know we’re going to have some problems. He’s not just going to walk through that door and be the same man who left.”14 During Don’s captivity, Andrea had relied on her strong Presbyterian faith and her church community for support. “My faith helped me cope and made me feel stronger during Don’s absence.” She and her children went to Sunday school and church almost every Sunday and prayed together at every meal. This religious belief that had sustained her for so long would continue to ground her during this stressful time.15
The MIA wives were operating in a less hopeful but similar mode. Knowing that the MIA lists were incomplete and inaccurate, Helene, Kathleen, and all the MIA wives hoped their husbands might somehow be among the returnees. Maybe, just maybe, Herman and Bruce would walk off one of those planes returning home. Kathleen felt like any day now Bruce would walk back into their home, saying, “I had you worried, didn’t I, Bon?” (His nickname for her was Bonnie, or Bon.) She imagined she would lovingly scold him: “You could have called me, Bruce: I burned the roast!”16
None of these women were the play-by-the rules military wives their husbands had left behind. What would the men think of these newly empowered, outspoken, independent activists? Would they even recognize them? Would their long-anticipated reunions end harmoniously or acrimoniously? The wives’ joyful anticipation was tinged with nervous worry, in part because of a military psychiatrist’s dire warnings of possible sexual dysfunction, violent rages, and medical issues that the returnees could possibly face.17 Though she acknowledged in interviews that she had gone from “bashful” to “independent,” Phyllis worried that Paul might not like her new persona. She recalled that her husband did not appreciate women who were “too pushy or aggressive and he won’t like it if he thinks I’m that way now.”18 The women would have to wait and see how things unfolded.
* * *
The homecoming was being meticulously planned to give the families of the returnees the best possible circumstances for a successful reunion. Under Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird, the Department of Defense had set up a task force in the spring of 1971, in anticipation of such a return. The task force was placed under the supervision of Roger Shields, special assistant in international security affairs assistant secretariat, and Rear Admiral Horace H. Epes Jr.19 The original name, Operation Egress Recap, was “a bit of Pentagonese even the Pentagon now declares it can’t translate.”20 Secretary Laird agreed. On January 8, just weeks before he left office, he scrapped the enigmatic “Egress” title, swapping it out for one that would strike a more human chord with the public: Operation Homecoming.21
Changing the title of the operation was the easy part. Its implementat
ion was a massive proposition. This daunting job fell to Shields, described by Life magazine as a “young, bulky, crew-cut Ph.D. in economics.”22 Shields had worked with Laird first as an outside contractor with a focus on the economic effects of Vietnamization.23 Though only thirty-three, Shields would prove he had the training, the organizational skills, and the compassion necessary to pull off the multilayered return and reunion smoothly.
Many issues had to be dealt with, in addition to the physical pickup and transport of the men. Operation Homecoming was a moving target. “First, we didn’t know how many men were going to be released, nor were we sure of their identity, or their medical condition.” At this stage, the government did not even know for sure where the men would be released. As a result, Shields and the hundreds of staff under him set up reception centers and medical treatment facilities in several different locations—there was even a welcome home center set up in Germany. They had to plan for every contingency.
Just as important in Shields’s plans was the emotional and mental health component of the homecoming operation. “We also had to ensure that their reunions with their families, for many involving a separation of more than five years, was accomplished with care and understanding.”24 Shields’s commonsense approach was to shield the returnees from the onslaught of press coverage and interviews as much as possible. After years of confinement, sometimes in solitary, the noise, bustle, and clamor of the press corps was sure to be disorienting, if not frightening, to some of the men.
President Nixon supported Shields’s plan and stayed out of the limelight when the POWs returned. When speculation arose that the president would appear at Travis Air Force Base, in Northern California, to greet the first batch of prisoners, he quickly put the rumor to rest. “These are men who have been away sometimes for years. They have a right to privacy and a right to be with their families just as quickly as they possibly can. And I am going to respect that right.”25
The League of Wives Page 26