Finding Pete: Rediscovering the Brother I Lost in Vietnam

by Jill Hunting

  In August, he apologized to Sue for having been so long in writing. He made excuses: he was busy, and in a bad mood after a long meeting in Saigon that had been a waste of time. He’d also had a close call with “some people I’d rather not have close calls with at all.”

  He elaborated on the close call in a letter to Margo a few days later. He had recently gone out to a hamlet to repair a windmill. People came running toward him and said to go home. There were “unfriendlies” nearby, and they were well armed. It was the first time he had been told about trouble. He supposed he had probably come closer to danger, but without knowing it.

  Pete was put out with Sue. She said she had withheld her feelings about dating other people because she felt guilty, as if she were deserting Pete. He thought he had made it clear when he left for Vietnam that he didn’t object to her dating other guys. It wasn’t his right to object, especially since he was too “gun shy” to make a commitment to her. “People change,” he said. He didn’t want her to martyr herself for his sake. Moreover, he appreciated her frankness and in fact agreed with her about not being exclusive. He summed up, “To be sure, I don’t have much confidence in the ‘us’ part of our relationship, and I feel troubled and sad a bit, but again what can I say?”

  Two weeks later he returned to the subject. Perhaps his last letter had been blunt, and he hoped it hadn’t offended her. “Sometimes I think I can’t understand you at times, which was probably just as true at Wesleyan, though unrealized,” he admitted. “It seems we’ve both changed a good deal.”

  He seemed to want his freedom but not to be the one to break things off. In a letter home around this time, he said that Sue had more or less thrown in the towel. The reason he gave was that she was unhappy he might stay longer than two years in Vietnam. She may have been unhappy, but Pete and conceivably both of them may have been outgrowing the relationship. He had so many options — employment with the U.S. Operations Mission, graduate school, a motorcycling adventure with friends. “Everything is in a mess,” he wrote, “but it’s a wonderful mess to be in, to have so many wonderful alternative ways of doing so many wonderful things.”

  Along with two of his buddies, Pete was now considering staying eight more months in Vietnam when their IVS contracts were up. He explained their rationale to my parents: “It would seem a waste to have spent all this time, to have learned the language, to have built good reputations without bringing it all to fruition by drawing a sizeable paycheck for a few months and without sticking our foot in the real U.S. government’s door.” Coincidentally, if he postponed his motorcycle trip, the weather would be better.

  The work was taking a new direction and Pete liked it. USOM had sent two new men to his province, who would do the kinds of things he had been doing. Finally he would be working primarily with teachers and youth. The newly formed Vietnamese Voluntary Youth, in Pete’s words “yet another Peace Corps inspired by IVS,” would organize university students to take up the kinds of projects IVS had pioneered in hamlets. “When we go, VNVY will replace us,” he said. “After the war. It sure will have been an interesting and variety-filled tour when I’ll have finished.”

  In the meantime, he would teach English a few days a week. He already taught classes every night, besides tutoring the deputy province chief — a man with the approximate rank of a U.S. lieutenant governor. Pete admired his energy:

  [He] makes everybody else look sick, including the Americans. If everybody in the Vietnamese government were like him, the war would be won in two years. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was won in two years, providing President Johnson or whoever would act according to his principles. Foreign confidence in the U.S.’s willingness to back its principles fell to such a low that people were surprised we just didn’t sit back and let North Vietnam shoot torpedoes at us. I think many Vietnamese had lost faith in us; even now, they seem skeptical.

  The reference to torpedoes followed, by two weeks, Congress’s granting the president authority to retaliate against North Vietnam, which was alleged to have attacked two U.S. destroyers in the Gulf of Tonkin. The resolution also gave the president authority to expand the war in Vietnam. All but two senators voted in favor of it.

  In the summer of 1964 President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act, which guaranteed African Americans equal voting rights, education, and access to public facilities. The bodies of three missing civil rights workers had been found in Philadelphia, Mississippi. Race riots broke out in several U.S. cities. When his plane was shot down over North Vietnam, Lieutenant Everett Alvarez was captured, becoming the first American prisoner of war there.

  I spent four weeks at canoeing and sailing camp. We bought a new puppy and named him Dash, after our first Dalmatian male. Pete alluded to these things on August 25 in reply to a letter in which I had asked about his safety. Over the course of his two-plus years in Vietnam, Pete occasionally tossed off a remark about getting shot, but in this one he addressed directly, if briefly, my concern:

  Thanks very much for your letter — it sounds as though the family has had a pleasant summer, especially you and Hol.

  My summer has been pretty interesting, although (as you know) it’s always summertime over here.

  You don’t need to worry about my security over here. It sounds much worse in American newspapers than it is in my province. Our province here is quite peaceful, and the people are very friendly, even though we can see guerilla croplands on the mountainsides at the end of our airstrip.

  This past month I (1) went to Saigon for a team meeting of IVS Education advisers and (2) after the meeting I worked with a youth camp with 14 Vietnamese youth. We painted a hamlet school and the hamlet “town hall” which was actually a house, and we repaired the hamlet’s road.

  I took some movies of the windmill I built and gave to one hamlet, so I’ll send those along soon.

  Can you please ask Mom or Dad to send me a checkbook or cashiers’ check from my credit account for 600 dollars? I want to buy a Honda motorcycle and insurance. . . . (IF there is no emergency necessitating that the family use that money.) . . .

  Well, thanks again for your letters. I always enjoy hearing about “the new Dash” from you. How about taking some close-up snapshots of the family the next time everybody is together? Thanks loads.

  Much love,

  Pete

  A few weeks later, Pete wrote that security was about the same, and people seemed to be on tenterhooks until after the presidential election. It would be his first time to vote. He wasn’t pro-Johnson, but he was anti-Goldwater. “If he wins I’m just liable to haul off and expatriate myself out of sheer disgust,” one letter said. Writing to Margo, he worked up a lather about the candidate who, in accepting the Republican nomination, had declared that “extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice.”

  On September 20, there was yet another coup d’état in Saigon. The mood of the people had shifted, Pete noted, reflecting the increasing instability of the country.

  Last year, people still had a lot of hope. This year, people’s opinions are black or white, black in the majority. The experts are at a loss to forecast what will happen in the next three months. The Delta situation remains the same, leading us to believe the vc have done as much as they could and are now on a new strategy, which is aimed at toppling the country from the Central Lowlands.4 Nha Trang, to the north, has been sinking fast, mostly due to the incompetence of that province’s chief — lack of political and military savvy.

  I drove right by a vc flank the other day unawares. Funny war. Wish I had time to go into it at length.

  IVS headquarters in Washington attempted to allay the concerns of families back home. John Hughes wrote on September 11, 1964:

  You are all aware of the disturbing headlines which have crowded the pages of the newspapers in recent weeks.

  On previous occasions we have passed along to you any current, special information we receive concerning the situation in Vietnam. At this time, we have no “inside re
ports” on what is happening that would point the way to the future course of events. We do want you to know, however, that Don Luce, our Chief-of-Party, keeps us closely apprised of the welfare of the team. He is in touch with us by cable and telephone whenever he feels there is cause for anxiety over any incident or development.

  In the past, IVS team members have avoided involvement in hostilities by being careful and prudent, by keeping up on intelligence reports about insecure areas, and simply not traveling where there might be trouble. The military is always informed as to their whereabouts and our Vietnamese friends keep them alerted to what is going on. The absence of incidents attests to the wise course our leadership staff and individual team members have followed. Carl Stockton, who was recently appointed Education Team Leader, says, “I doubt that the increased danger we are facing is much more than say, driving down the freeways or being in Jackson, Mississippi, Kansas City, Missouri, or New York City.”

  We are proud of every member of the Vietnam team for the courage and steadfastness they have continued to display in the face of repeated periods of tension, insecurity, and instability. Perhaps this is a time when IVS can render its greatest service to the people and government of Vietnam — by providing an element of stability and direction, especially to the restless youth of the country.

  As it was recently expressed by the Deputy Education Chief of USOM, speaking of the contribution of the American presence in Vietnam: “No matter what happens politically in the country, the things we have worked for cannot be taken away: the schools, the books, the teachers — and most important, the challenged and cultivated minds of the people we have reached. These cannot be erased overnight by political changes.”

  The role as trusted friends and advisers that IVSers have made for themselves among the Vietnamese people has not gone unnoticed. The recently resigned Ambassador, Henry Cabot Lodge, has spoken with admiration of the strong impression IVSers have made in going about their tasks with quiet competence and understanding.

  We hope you find some satisfaction and reassurance in reflecting on the importance of the task your sons and daughters are carrying out in the struggle for human welfare and stability in Vietnam.

  Pete finally bought his motorcycle. The Honda’s previous owner was “not exactly an old school-marm” but had treated it well. It had a bit of a kick to it.

  During my demonstration ride, I was flipped off the tail end, right in the middle of a busy traffic circle, as the owner was demonstrating its excellent decelerating and accelerating performance characteristics, dashing into a solid phalanx of automobiles, which magically opened up. I felt like Moses at the Red Sea, or something, when suddenly I found myself dumped on my stern. I’ve bought insurance, and a helmet is on its way.

  He was still grappling with his future. He might apply for a six-month job as a USOM provincial representative or assistant prov rep, make some money, and build up his résumé for a future position in government. He might take a three-month vacation back home, maybe even get married. Or he might stick it out in Vietnam for another six months and then come home, get married, and go to grad school. He and Sue had all but quit communicating, while Margo was writing more and more. “I’m getting sweeter and sweeter toward the latter,” he admitted, “although not as yet foaming around the mouth.”

  Work was going well enough, but lately he had soured on the character of the Vietnamese. Someone had broken into the house and stolen fifty dollars that had been entrusted to him. Larry had also been robbed. Even so, Pete believed he was starting to get somewhere with the local youth.

  It was the rainy season again. Phan Rang had not seen sunshine in two weeks. The rainfall was slow and steady, unlike up north, where everything was under water. People just sat on their roofs until their houses washed away and they drowned. It was terrible.

  Could things in Vietnam get any worse?

  NINE

  Trip to Vietnam

  A

  lthough by now many years have passed since the day I was held for questioning in Vietnam, I can still picture the policemen in the small room where eight of us sat crowded around a desk.

  One of them was round faced and wide eyed, like a Cambodian friend of mine back home in California. Another, the highest ranking of the three, had a thin face and narrow eyes. I thought I would never forget any of them, but time has erased the third man’s visage from my memory.

  The policeman with viper’s eyes meticulously copied the information from my passport and visa onto a sheet of paper, pressing through several thicknesses of paper and carbon paper. Likewise, he copied the information about three of my four American companions.

  My fourth companion, Don Luce, would eventually minimize the seriousness of our predicament, but his ashen face could not disguise that we were in trouble. We had trespassed by stopping in a hamlet and asking questions about people who were there thirty years ago. We had left Mr. Phuong, our government-assigned guide, behind in Nha Trang. Don had left his passport and visa in his hotel room there. No one in the group we had left behind knew where we were.

  Curious children reached their arms toward us through the bars on the window. Of the five of us Americans, I was the only one who understood no Vietnamese. Later, someone said a few of the women had asked the officials why they were arresting us. Why not just let us go?

  Unbeknownst to us, the village of Ho Diem had been a Catholic and anti-Communist stronghold during the “American War.” Some of the women guessed I was a nun. Before leaving for Vietnam, I had cut my hair short.

  The height of our ill treatment, Don would say in retrospect, was the top man’s refusal to allow Mike Fairley to use the bathroom. I thought being detained and interrogated for hours and paying a hundred-dollar “fine” the next day in exchange for my freedom and documents was worse. Chuck Cable, another former IVSer, smoldered when officials said we could not visit the Peter Hunting Memorial Library, which he had helped build, and in fact could not stop in Phan Rang at all.

  Our trouble had begun that morning when Mr. Phuong assured the five of us that we could deviate from the group itinerary. While we visited Phan Rang and Ba Ngoi — places we had special reasons for wanting to see — the others would remain in Nha Trang, along with Mr. Phuong. He had developed a crush on a woman in our group and wanted to spend the day with her at the beach. He had said it would be all right to go without him.

  Don was a known friend of the Vietnamese people. He spoke the language fluently. Our Vietnamese driver would be with us. What could go wrong?

  It wasn’t illegal for Americans to travel to Vietnam in 1991, but it wasn’t easy. A Treasury Department ruling of 1988 permitted U.S. citizens to visit Vietnam with some restrictions. Financial transactions were limited to paying for things related to travel, such as meals, hotel rooms, and transportation between cities. Personal items could be purchased for use and consumption in Vietnam, but only goods whose value was one hundred dollars or less could be brought home, and only if they were for personal use and not resale. The ruling forbade charging purchases to a credit card. It was a moot point. Most merchants accepted cash only.

  The United States and Vietnam were four years away from restoring diplomatic relations. There was no American ambassador in Hanoi yet and no consulate in Saigon, whose name had been changed to Ho Chi Minh City.

  Under the Trading with the Enemy Act, placing a telephone call from the United States to Vietnam was not permitted. To get a visa for Vietnam, American citizens had to go to another country, such as Thailand or Malaysia.

  The Sonoma County Health Department recommended a formidable list of immunizations, including those for cholera, typhoid, hepatitis, and plague. A measles, mumps, and rubella vaccine and a tetanus booster, along with a regimen of antimalaria pills, were strongly advised.

  Nevertheless, when Don wrote to me early in 1990 that he was organizing an educational trip to Vietnam, primarily for former IVSers, I said I would go. Vietnam was tugging on me.

  �
��Look at the bomb craters,” someone in our group of eighteen exclaimed as the Thai Airways plane descended over Hanoi. The pits looked large enough to warrant identification on a city map. Tears ran down my cheeks as I stared out the window. A thousand miles of crying lay ahead.

  Early in 1990 I began considering in what way, come November, I might observe my fortieth birthday and, two days later, the twenty-fifth anniversary of Pete’s death. The question occurred to me during Epiphany, the time of year associated with enlightenment. More than remembering Pete’s death, I wanted to acknowledge his influence on my life.

  Don’s letter said the tour would leave in August. We would visit schools and attend briefings on development and U.S.–Vietnam relations. Don would meet us there. He was going in advance as an interpreter for an American public health association.

  One night, with the trip a month away, I dreamed I was in Vietnam with Don and Pete. The following day, I received a letter from Don saying he had postponed the trip until January 1991. Things were more tense in Vietnam than usual, he explained, owing to political changes in Eastern Europe and sensitive negotiations over Cambodia. No problem, I replied. I’d go in January.