Agents Of Innocence, The Legacy of Vietnam - The Writing’s On The Wall
by Susan Scharfman
The writing was on the wall long before Iraq and Afghanistan. Forty years ago on April 30, 1975 the city of Saigon fell to communist forces of the People’s Army of Vietnam, ending America’s 10-year Vietnam War. What do we know about its history and meaning?
Images flooded across our television screens into our living rooms: Napalm. Agent Orange. GIs “waist deep in the big muddy.” Red tracer bullets streaking across a midnight sky. The tragic and controversial Operation Baby Lift, which sent thousands of Vietnamese children out to foreign countries for adoption. A line of people scrambling up to a helicopter at the top of the embassy compound. At home, some of the largest protest demonstrations in the nation’s history. All of it and more shaped today’s America.
PBS producer Ken Burns is making an extensive documentary film series on the Vietnam War. Said Burns: “Today, more than four decades after it ended, nearly everyone has an opinion about the Vietnam War, but few Americans truly know its history and there is little consensus about what happened there, or why. Our series will shed light both on the history of the war, and on our inability to find common ground about it.”
America’s Invisible Veterans
In the 1990s I wrote a series of magazine articles on Vietnam veterans. One story was about former nurses with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I called it “America’s Invisible Veterans.” I visited VA Medical facilities around the country to see how these women were progressing in their recoveries. They had typically made themselves inconspicuous by blending in to private life—marriage, having families. In effect, they became invisible. Conditioned to being caregivers, to recognizing the needs of others and ignoring their own, they tended to bury their nightmares in a trunk in the attic.
I worked closely with Dr. Jessica Wolfe who was Associate Professor of Psychiatry and Psychology at Boston University School of Medicine where she treated returning Vietnam male veterans afflicted with PTSD. When I met Dr.Wolfe she had just started a new program at the Boston VA Medical Center to treat former women officers who had served in Vietnam as nurses. In my interviews with them, they acknowledged witnessing horrific battles and treating horrendous casualties. A former field hospital operating room nurse told me her uniform was routinely soaked with blood. She had to practice triage, quickly selecting for treatment those wounded who had the greatest potential for survival. Clearly distressed and nervous about the interview, she had insisted on meeting me in a room on the first floor of the VA Center to avoid elevators where she might encounter patients in wheelchairs.
Shutting It Out By Shooting Through The Lens
Like war photographers, some nurses were able to distance themselves from the carnage through the lens of a camera. The O.R. nurse had stored her photos in a trunk away from her children and not looked at them in 25 years. After considerable group therapy she was able to view the color slides dispassionately.
“Those of us who shot a lot of photographs were able to detach ourselves and not be touched by reality,” she said. “I would stand there and snap the shutter. Some of the pictures clearly show that I could look into the jaws of hell while coolly shooting pictures. I took those color slides down from the shelf a few months ago. It was the first time I could look at them. Through group therapy I’m now able to allow myself to say it was a part of my life. It’s over. It’s okay now.”
The Errors of Our Ways Are Written On The Wall
The Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C., designed by American architect Maya Lin, was completed in 1982. She describes the concept as "a moving composition to be understood as we move into and out of it." It is a living entity. When you touch it, you needn’t know a single one of those 58,286 names to receive an emotional zap that can send you to your knees. Eight are nurses. A nearby bronze statue, The Three Soldiers dedicated in 1984, complements the Wall.
A short distance south of The Wall is The Vietnam Women’s Memorial. Dedicated in 1993 it honors over ten thousand women who served in Vietnam, most of whom were nurses. The bronze depicts three women and a wounded soldier on top of sandbags. Those indomitable nurses were the anchors of the sinking ship of state—our “invisible veterans.”
The writing was on the wall long before Iraq and Afghanistan. Forty years ago on April 30, 1975 the city of Saigon fell to communist forces of the People’s Army of Vietnam, ending America’s 10-year Vietnam War. What do we know about its history and meaning?
Images flooded across our television screens into our living rooms: Napalm. Agent Orange. GIs “waist deep in the big muddy.” Red tracer bullets streaking across a midnight sky. The tragic and controversial Operation Baby Lift, which sent thousands of Vietnamese children out to foreign countries for adoption. A line of people scrambling up to a helicopter at the top of the embassy compound. At home, some of the largest protest demonstrations in the nation’s history. All of it and more shaped today’s America.
PBS producer Ken Burns is making an extensive documentary film series on the Vietnam War. Said Burns: “Today, more than four decades after it ended, nearly everyone has an opinion about the Vietnam War, but few Americans truly know its history and there is little consensus about what happened there, or why. Our series will shed light both on the history of the war, and on our inability to find common ground about it.”
America’s Invisible Veterans
In the 1990s I wrote a series of magazine articles on Vietnam veterans. One story was about former nurses with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I called it “America’s Invisible Veterans.” I visited VA Medical facilities around the country to see how these women were progressing in their recoveries. They had typically made themselves inconspicuous by blending in to private life—marriage, having families. In effect, they became invisible. Conditioned to being caregivers, to recognizing the needs of others and ignoring their own, they tended to bury their nightmares in a trunk in the attic.
I worked closely with Dr. Jessica Wolfe who was Associate Professor of Psychiatry and Psychology at Boston University School of Medicine where she treated returning Vietnam male veterans afflicted with PTSD. When I met Dr.Wolfe she had just started a new program at the Boston VA Medical Center to treat former women officers who had served in Vietnam as nurses. In my interviews with them, they acknowledged witnessing horrific battles and treating horrendous casualties. A former field hospital operating room nurse told me her uniform was routinely soaked with blood. She had to practice triage, quickly selecting for treatment those wounded who had the greatest potential for survival. Clearly distressed and nervous about the interview, she had insisted on meeting me in a room on the first floor of the VA Center to avoid elevators where she might encounter patients in wheelchairs.
Shutting It Out By Shooting Through The Lens
Like war photographers, some nurses were able to distance themselves from the carnage through the lens of a camera. The O.R. nurse had stored her photos in a trunk away from her children and not looked at them in 25 years. After considerable group therapy she was able to view the color slides dispassionately.
“Those of us who shot a lot of photographs were able to detach ourselves and not be touched by reality,” she said. “I would stand there and snap the shutter. Some of the pictures clearly show that I could look into the jaws of hell while coolly shooting pictures. I took those color slides down from the shelf a few months ago. It was the first time I could look at them. Through group therapy I’m now able to allow myself to say it was a part of my life. It’s over. It’s okay now.”
The Errors of Our Ways Are Written On The Wall
The Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C., designed by American architect Maya Lin, was completed in 1982. She describes the concept as "a moving composition to be understood as we move into and out of it." It is a living entity. When you touch it, you needn’t know a single one of those 58,286 names to receive an emotional zap that can send you to your knees. Eight are nurses. A nearby bronze statue, The Three Soldiers dedicated in 1984, complements the Wall.
A short distance south of The Wall is The Vietnam Women’s Memorial. Dedicated in 1993 it honors over ten thousand women who served in Vietnam, most of whom were nurses. The bronze depicts three women and a wounded soldier on top of sandbags. Those indomitable nurses were the anchors of the sinking ship of state—our “invisible veterans.”
Many
Americans served in various civilian capacities. A small Vietnamese
staff worked for me
at the embassy; we were like family. When I left, one of them took a jade ring from her finger, thrust it into my hand and closed it tight. She had recently lost her fiancé. Through her tears,
all she could say was: “Don’t forget us.”
I left a part of me there I can never recover nor forget. Thousands of South Vietnamese worked for us. Many disappeared into the gulag of those who never made it out. To be thoroughly understood, history has to take a long look backward. Forty years may not even be enough.
But the errors of our ways demand we not repeat them.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
at the embassy; we were like family. When I left, one of them took a jade ring from her finger, thrust it into my hand and closed it tight. She had recently lost her fiancé. Through her tears,
all she could say was: “Don’t forget us.”
I left a part of me there I can never recover nor forget. Thousands of South Vietnamese worked for us. Many disappeared into the gulag of those who never made it out. To be thoroughly understood, history has to take a long look backward. Forty years may not even be enough.
But the errors of our ways demand we not repeat them.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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