‘…when I first understood the meaning of love’ – a tribute to my mother.

‘…when I first understood the meaning of love’ – a tribute to my mother.

By Cammie Geoghegan Olson, 2011

 Long forgotten and recently found pictures of my parents- on their wedding day, honeymoon and early years of my childhood- combined with an interview I heard of a Navy Seal widow being asked “What will you tell your children about their father?” compelled me to explore when I first understood the meaning of love.

The beauty is there is no exact moment, but a collection of moments and mementos. Family stories shared, memories carefully tucked away in a trunk, old pictures and written words from a life long ago. Maybe this is my moment as I pull it all together, my mom being the common golden thread.

Barbara Ann Weathers and John Lance Geoghegan married on Friday, June 13, 1964. Friday the thirteenth. This left my superstitious paternal grandmother (Mimi) in fear for her only child and his new bride.  Was it an omen?  Mom wonders if Mimi spent the rest of her life believing it was.

Following their wedding, they traveled to Tanzania, Africa to spend nine months as missionaries for the Catholic Relief Service. I was conceived in Africa and born on June 1965. My father was in training to leave for Vietnam in August.  It was a blessing I was born early, allowing my father more time with me before he left.

Three months after reaching Vietnam and five days following his twenty-fourth birthday, my father was killed in action.

With heartfelt emotion and eloquence, Mom shared her story in a chapter of the book We Were Soldier’s Once and Young [1].  The following describes the moments after learning of my father’s death.

“I went upstairs to look at Cammie, sleeping peacefully, not knowing how her life was so altered. In a recent letter, Jack (my father) said: ‘How about giving Cammie a little brother when I get back?’ Now there would be no more little Geoghegans. I picked up my sleeping baby and hugged her hard, still not believing that an end had come to everything we had hoped and dreamed and planned.”

We both lived in our “little house” in Redding Connecticut; my mom named the house “Dar Es Salaam,” which is the name of the largest city in Tanzania and means “Haven of Peace.” My grandparents (Mimi and Gee Gee) lived further up the hill. Even in their sorrow, they were determined to raise me surrounded with love and laughter.  An excerpt from a letter Mom wrote to me when I was three years old describes my environment in those early years.

“How glad we were when you were born into this world my dearest Cammie! How glad I am that your father could be with us long enough to see you enter it safely and surrounded by love: his love, my love, our love as your parents.  How glad I am that he saw us safely nestled in a little home on a hill near his parents in Redding, Connecticut, where they and I have showered you with love, warmth, and security.”

Your father had to leave us one November day in 1965, but he did not leave without knowing that his dearest loved ones were safe and secure with each other. It is as if he had placed you entirely in my care, with the love, devotion, and guidance of his beloved parents very close by. And it is as if he had said, ‘I cannot be physically present, but I will be with you – in thought, in memory and in whatever way I can from my place with God.’ ”

The letter was placed at the beginning of a leather bound album (one of two) embossed with “To Dearest Cammie, By his deeds will you know him.” Along with the albums is a trunk including the flag that laid on his casket, metals, yearbooks- whatever Mom had which would help me bring my father back to life. I was never pushed to delve into these items, but I knew they were there and Mom would be there when it was time.

Many people in the same situation would bury their feelings, destroy anything reminding them of their loved one and not allow anyone, including their own children, to speak of the loss. My mother is extraordinarily different.

Several years later, Mom remarried and chose a man who loved me as much as he loved her. A unique man whom she met in Mimi and Gee Gee’s home.  A man who also believed in keeping the memory of my father alive. “We married Daddy” in April 1969. My new daddy has loved me and supported me in all my efforts to learn about my father. When I traveled to Vietnam to “walk in my father’s footsteps,” Dad was the first one I called to tell about my experience in Saigon (he had served there himself in the early ’60s).

Our family circle had grown and we moved away from Redding. We visited Mimi and Gee Gee frequently throughout their lives (they were a third set of grandparents to my brother and sister who came along in the early ’70s). Those visits are etched in my mind and some of my most cherished memories.

It wasn’t until I was a young adult, and closer to the age of my father when he died, that I started to yearn for details. Ironically, it was around this time Mom was asked to retell her story for We Were Solder’s Once and Young (The book written by and about those who fought in and were affected by the battle that took my father’s life). Ten years later, a movie was made and my original family portrayed. The producer, now a close friend, told us it was Mom’s piece that moved him to bring the book to the screen.

I had many resources to pull the pieces together, priceless gifts! Engulfed with tears, I dug into the trunk and read the book. I was overwhelmed with sorrow at the grief my loved ones must have felt, but grateful I was sheltered from it.  I was then struck by the reality that I will never know the humanness of my father- how he walked, how he talked. Nonetheless, Mom helped me create an image that brings me peace.

Last October, after thirty years, Mom and I traveled back to Redding. We knocked on the door to our “little house” and were warmly greeted by a kind gentleman. He listened to our stories and showed us around.  So much had changed: walls taken down, rooms added and rearranged, beautiful landscaping. However, the spirit of the house was the same. I looked where the kitchen was and remembered the picture of Mom bathing me in the sink. Oh, and the sun porch…I eyed the spot where my father had held me, images from old photographs running through my mind.

As we were leaving, this wonderful man promised to tend to the Geoghegan cemetery plot. Now there will be flowers from the garden at “the little house”, flags on Memorial Day and a dear soul to periodically stop by to “check on things.” Our former home must have an essence about it to attract special people to live within its walls.

At the cemetery, we found the familiar spot, the original family of three, together on a hill overlooking the beautiful country side. Mom said they chose the spot because they found peace in the idea of my father longing to return to his “little home on the hill.” Sunbeams radiated off the top of the Geoghegan headstone as I captured the moment in pictures. It was surreal.

Brushing aside fallen leaves from Mimi’s marker, Mom said, “I don’t know how I would have managed had it not been for you and your father’s parents.Years later they [Mimi and Gee Gee] said the same thing about me. I guess we kept each other going.  When one was weak, another was strong.”

We shared our favorite memories of Redding. A moment which could have been melancholy was just the opposite. Love and laughter surrounded us.  We had come full circle.

Love encircles my life to this day. I married the man of my dreams, have given birth to two beautiful healthy daughters and am blessed by a large extended family and dear friends.

Every so often, I find “another piece to the puzzle,” a picture of my parents in Africa by their homemade Christmas tree, the freckles we call “angel kisses” on my daughters’ cheeks reminiscent of the many freckles on my father’s face, an old soldier meeting me for the first time, saying those familiar words, “You look just like your Dad!”  Moments of awareness each embracing me with an overwhelming feeling of comfort. All this I owe to the strength, grace, unwavering devotion and love of my mom.

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[1] Moore and Galloway, We Were Soldiers Once And Young, (New York: Random House, 1992), 333.

[Web site note: the birth and infancy of Cammie Geoghegan Olson was a central story in the movie, “We Were Soldiers.”  Her parents were portrayed by actors Chris Klein and Keri Russell.]

An Open Letter to the Children Who Lost Parents on 9/11

An Open Letter to the Children Who Lost Parents on 9/11

On the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks, Sons and Daughters In Touch looks back on its ‘Open Letter’ to the children who lost parents on that day. 

                                Based on the life experiences of Sons and Daughters In Touch                                  America’s Gold Star ‘sons and daughters’ from the Vietnam War. 

November 2001: An Open Letter to the Children who lost a parent in the Terrorist Attacks on America

In the aftermath of the attack on America, scores of relief agencies mobilized to aid the victims of this unspeakable act of war.

Among the most haunting questions was: “What will happen to the children who lost their parents in the attacks?” For the past 12 years, Sons and Daughters In Touch (SDIT) has been addressing that very question for the now-grown children of American servicemen lost during the Vietnam War.

The question then was, “What is it like to have lost your father in the Vietnam War?” And now, “What is it like to have lost your parent in the attack on America?” Unfortunately, the issue of “children victims” has been the focus of limited national research. Instead, much of what is known about the healing process for the children of Vietnam losses has come to light through the efforts of Sons & Daughters In Touch (SDIT). Formed in 1989 by some of these “children,” SDIT is a national support organization for more than 5,000 of the untold number of ‘sons and daughters’ left fatherless by the Vietnam War.

Together, we have peered into the past, shared our experiences, and established an ongoing legacy of learning, honor and remembrance. And in the midst of that has come hope and healing.

With a foundation based in the hard-earned life experiences of its members, SDIT offers the following insights which we hope can be a comfort and guide:

“A final good-bye…” Sadly, in those cases where your parents’ remains were not recovered, a lifelong sense of disbelief may exist.

Though it was impossible to achieve under these circumstances, the value of a tangible and visual “good-bye” cannot be underestimated. SDIT has learned from similar cases (primarily those in which a loved one was listed as Prisoner of War or Missing in Action and is still unaccounted for), that the reality of the loss will be tempered by the understandable question, “…are you sure?”

Without some form of closure, you may find yourself imagining that Mom or Dad might someday walk into the room, or be there to pick you up after school. That is normal and expected. Fortunately, time and reason are sound cures.

Over the years, you will come to accept the loss of your parents as a tragically-heroic badge of honor.

“Get over it” Don’t ever allow anyone to demand this of you. The process of grieving and healing is a unique and often lengthy process. The simple reality is that one never ‘gets over’ such a loss.

For a lifetime, this tragedy will be a seminal moment in your life. Every stage and milestone in life will now be different. As a teenager, an adult, a parent and a grandparent; at 30, 40, 50 and older ages, your life will be different than it would have been had you not experienced this loss. One never truly “gets over it”.

Let acceptance be your destination…and know that your arrival at this goal might take a long time.

“A time and place” As you come to accept your loss, it will be helpful to have a special time and place for remembering your parent. You may choose to do that alone, within your immediate family, with friends, or with the greater family of those who experienced a similar loss.

For many SDIT members, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial “Wall” in Washington, DC, became a place of solace and healing. For you, perhaps a national memorial that has yet to be established, or one in your community, will serve that purpose. You might also seek a day that permits public celebration of your parents’ life. For us, Father’s Day affords that opportunity (and these national tributes have served as the building blocks to help extend the healing to new sons and daughters).

Should you choose to wait until adulthood before reaching out to others who endured a similar experience, do not be afraid. Most members of SDIT were in their 20’s and 30’s before taking the same steps. Some of you will openly embrace this common bond and actively nurture it. Others will reject it. Know that participation and interaction is a choice, not an obligation. And that you may benefit from more or less interaction at different times in your life.

“The benchmark” Perhaps the most significant milestone for the members of SDIT was the time in life when they outlived their fathers. War’s cruelty dictated that some of our members outlived their fathers at 19 or 20. For others it was 25, 30 or 35, but it brought with it questions about how to live our lives without the benchmark that Dad represented.

This same milestone will exist for you. Reaching this milestone will signal a venture into uncharted waters filled with questions. “Is this the way adulthood really is?” “Can I ever accomplish as much as they did?” “How would mom or dad advise me in this challenging situation?” The answers to these questions can be found through discovering just who your mom or dad was.

Ask questions of family and friends, keep pictures and mementos, and attend your parents’ class reunions. The knowledge and understanding – and possibly friends – you’ll gain will help you to hear your parent’s voice and inherit their intuition.

Finally, while it’s impossible to document the myriad lessons we’ve learned here, we extend an offer to help however possible. As you organize, and as you heal, let us know how we can help. In the meantime, our hearts and prayers are with you.

In solidarity,

 

Sons and Daughters In Touch

 

[Sons and Daughters In Touch is a 501(c) 3 non-profit organization committed to locating and uniting the Gold Star “sons and daughters” of American servicemen lost in the Vietnam War.]

50 Years After the Start of the Vietnam War, US Presses to Recover Remains

50 Years After the Start of the Vietnam War, US Presses to Recover Remains

By WYATT OLSON Stars and Stripes Published: May 19, 2012

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U.S. Navy Petty Officer Second Class Zachary Eldred screens soil removed from a stream bed while conducting recovery operations in Binh Dinh Province, Vietnam March 12, 2012.
 
Eldred is an explosives ordnance disposal technician temporarily assigned to the Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command as an augmentee to help achieve JPAC’s goals to conduct global search, recovery and laboratory operations to identify unaccounted-for Americans from past conflicts in order to support the Department of Defense”s personnel accounting efforts.
 
Adelita C. Mead/Department of Defense
 
Repatriation of Remains from Vietnam DANANG, Vietnam – Colleen Shine was only 8 when her father’s jet was shot out of the sky over Vietnam in 1972. Lt. Col. Anthony Shine was declared missing in action after the A-7D reconnaissance jet he was piloting disappeared over jagged mountains near the border of Laos.
 
“My mother didn’t know if she was a wife or a widow, and we didn’t know if my dad might walk back in that door,” recalled his daughter, who became an activist with the National League of POW/MIA Families in the following years. More than two decades passed before a recovery team was able to inspect a crash site believed to be the A-7D, but the Shine family was told no evidence was found. A helmet retrieved after the crash by a villager offered no clues either, they were told.
 
Shine traveled to Vietnam in 1995 to see for herself. “I went to the village, found the crash site, and when I found the villager with the helmet, it had my dad’s handwritten name in it,” she said. “I found parts of an airplane with serial numbers and bags and bags of stuff.” The military team excavated the site. “We were able to get enough remains to put in a ziplock bag,” she said. The family finally buried him in 1996 in Arlington National Cemetery. “I want people to understand the heart of this issue is so different than a clear-cut killed-in-action case,” said Shine, who lives in Virginia. “You don’t have a truth to face and move forward from. Uncertainty is a wholly different burden.” The good news is that fewer and fewer families carry that weight.
 
The decadeslong endeavor by the U.S. government — at the constant urging of the families — to recover the remains of servicemembers lost during the Vietnam War has slowly winnowed the number of missing. That effort has moved into overdrive. “We can see the light at the end of the tunnel,” said Lt. Col. Patrick Keane, commander of the Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command detachment in Vietnam, which is responsible for tracking and excavating the missing.
 
JPAC is pushing to complete the fullest possible accounting before the end of this decade. The Defense Department is commemorating the 50th anniversary of the beginning of the Vietnam War this year, a milestone that underscores the necessity to speed up the search for MIAs because many first-hand witnesses in Vietnam are dying of old age.
 
About four years ago, the League of POW/MIA Families and others urged JPAC to finish the accounting work in Vietnam “within the lifetimes of the families,” said Ron Ward, a casualty resolution specialist with JPAC Vietnam. According to the Defense Department’s Prisoner of War/Missing Personnel Office, 1,672 servicemembers remain unaccounted for in Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia and China from the Vietnam War. Roughly 1,280 are believed to be in Vietnam, but almost half of those have been placed in a “no further pursuit” category because their remains have been deemed unrecoverable, such as in deep sea or in crash sites where personal effects are found but the remains have been lost to acidic soil and jungle conditions, said Ward.
 
About 2,600 servicemembers were originally MIA in Southeast Asia from the Vietnam War. Almost 1,000 remains have been located and repatriated since then, nearly 700 of them from Vietnam, according to the POW/Missing Personnel Office. The Vietnam detachment is bearing down on the remaining 700 cases considered retrievable in that country.
 
Investigations have been completed for about 100 sites that can be excavated. In March and April, JPAC Vietnam completed one of the largest recovery activities held in years. Almost 100 people in six teams — twice the usual number — excavated sites in three provinces. Some teams were able to work on a second site. The searchers found remains believed to be a soldier killed in a helicopter crash, and the remains were repatriated to JPAC’s Hawaii headquarters during a ceremony held at Danang Airport on April 9.
 
A similar-sized field operation began this month. Keane estimates that, at the present pace and funding and with a bit of good luck, the bulk of recoveries could be completed in five to seven years. “After all this time, we are really close to going before Congress and saying we have done the best we can, done all the leads, done all the recoveries we can possibly do,” he said.
 
Ann Mills-Griffiths, chair of League of POW/MIA Families, who’s been involved in the issue for more than 40 years, agrees with Keane’s estimate — provided the resources for the “surge” are maintained. The pace of recovery has quickened for a number of reasons, Keane said. Several years ago, Congress increased funding for the identification and return of MIA remains from all foreign wars.
 
JPAC Vietnam is making that funding go farther by creating additional recovery teams staffed mainly by Vietnamese. “The Vietnamese have been working with us a long time, and they have all this experienced personnel,” Keane said. “So instead of having a very large U.S. footprint of 14-some Americans on a team, we’ve cut that down to four — an anthropologist, linguist, medic and [explosive ordnance disposal] specialist — who join the Vietnamese.” The Vietnamese teams are also more apt to get additional information during excavations because they mix well with the locals.
 
On some occasions, curious locals have talked to the team and informed them that remains had been exhumed since war’s end and showed them the reburial site, Keane said. The new configuration has roughly doubled the number of recovery teams now out in the field each year to 24, Keane said. Perhaps the main reason JPAC is having more success in investigations is greater cooperation from the Vietnamese government and military. “Right now, our relationship with the Vietnamese, you really couldn’t ask for more,” Keane said. “If we’d had this kind of relationship 10 or 15 years ago, we’d be so much farther along.”
 
Mills-Griffiths said that the Vietnamese have recently begun initiatives that the League has wanted for years, such as providing access to sensitive archives and to eyewitnesses. Keane said the Vietnamese government is “really tired of getting poked in the chest” about the MIA issue when U.S. officials visit the country and ask about it. “They want to put that part of history behind them,” Keane said.
 
In addition, the generation that fought in the war and was quite suspicious of U.S. intentions has largely retired from high office. Vietnam’s dispute with China over ownership of the Spratly Islands in the South China Sea has led to the country strengthening ties with America, India and Australia, Keane said. “To tell you how far we’ve come, we now have the names of all the surviving veterans of several very important [North Vietnamese] regiments that were involved in many battles — names of individuals, contact information, when they were with the unit,” Keane said. This helps JPAC investigators more quickly locate eyewitnesses.
 
Those witnesses have been very useful in JPAC’s Trilateral Witness Program, in which JPAC coordinates with the governments of Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. It allows JPAC to bring eyewitnesses over borders to crash and burial sites along the former Ho Chi Minh Trail, portions of which were in Laos and Cambodia. Because those areas were largely depopulated by the conflict,
 
Vietnamese soldiers were usually the only witnesses to wartime events, Ward said. “The success rate is fairly high because witnesses that we take back to Laos tend to be officers, guys who were highly placed and could read maps,” he said. He recalled one case in which JPAC brought a Vietnamese officer back to the site of a 1972 battle in which a U.S. helicopter was shot down on a Laotian hill. “He described in detail how they shot down the aircraft,” Ward said. “There was a skirmish, a shooting match with the Americans who were outnumbered, killed and buried there. We excavated the site, and those people were repatriated. “We were able to tell those families that their men went down valiantly, still shooting it out.” Gleaning information like this is a valuable “byproduct” of the search, he said, even if the remains of a servicemember aren’t found. “Families didn’t only ask for remains,” Ward said. “They said, ‘We want to know what happened.’” Still, it’s the return of some tangible remains that brings the greatest measure of peace.
 
Mark Stephensen waited more than 20 years for that moment. The oldest of four siblings, Stephensen was 12 when his father went missing on a night mission in an RF-4C over Hanoi in April 1967. The U.S. government issued a “presumptive finding of death” in the late 1970s, and the family held a memorial service for him. “But I wanted a flag-draped coffin,” Stephensen said. “That’s what he was owed.” In 1988, his father’s remains were identified and repatriated, landing in Oakland, Calif., where six airmen carried the casket out of the open back of the cargo plane.
 
Stephensen has a snapshot of the moment. “In the background, there are three airmen standing at rigid attention with rigid salutes,” he said. “To me, that was the culmination of everything right there. That was the moment.”
 
olsonw@pstripes.osd.mil
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