Vietnam Vets Volunteer Themselves to Help Wounded

by Angela Julian Jones

In the very best spirit of volunteerism, several VFW members are demonstrating the meaning of caring. They are determined not to let this generation of veterans down.By Susan Katz KeatingA tall young man who is missing a large chunk of his scalp moves easily through the banquet room, stopping briefly to share a joke with a man whose suit lapel sports a miniature Combat Infantryman Badge.

A waitress skillfully navigates the room’s nine tables, holding aloft her tray of thick steaks while stepping sideways to avoid a blind man’s cane. Against a back wall, crutches are propped within easy reach of their seated owners. Just outside the banquet room, a soldier leans forward in his wheelchair, visibly struggling to stand on his only leg. An older man reaches out with a prosthetic arm and helps to raise the struggling amputee.”A soldier always helps a fellow soldier,” the older man says. “That’s just the way it is. Always loyal.”‘ It’s An Honor’ To a dedicated group of Vietnam veterans, loyalty takes the form of providing both comfort and entertainment to the current generation of soldiers whose bodies have been devastated in combat overseas.

The older veterans, some of whom lost limbs in Vietnam, facilitate weekly outings for soldiers who were wounded in Iraq.

The wounded service members are patients at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in the nation’s capital. The outings feature steak or lobster dinner at a fancy Washington, D.C., restaurant, at no cost to the soldiers or their families.”These soldiers have earned our help,” says Vietnam veteran Hal Koster, who hosts the Friday dinners at Fran O’Brien’s Stadium Steakhouse, which he co-owns. “It’s an honor to do this.” It’s a great thing for the soldiers,” says 24-year-old Josh Flaspoehler, who contracted a rare and debilitating infection while assigned to the 223rd MP Company, Kentucky National Guard, in Iraq. “It gives us something to look forward to. It gives us a sense of normalcy we don’t get at Walter Reed. I can’t thank Hal and the other guys enough.”

The outings spring from the efforts of a small group of volunteers who have been visiting the patients at Walter Reed’s orthopedic ward for more than a decade. Most of the volunteers are Vietnam veterans who themselves were severely wounded in combat. Jim Mayer stepped on a land mine on April 25, 1969, while serving as an infantryman with B Company, 2nd Battalion, 12th Infantry Regiment, 25th Infantry Division, in Vietnam. He lost both legs. At one point, he spent four months at Walter Reed, recovering from one of many surgeries.”A man whose name I still don’t know had lost both his hands,” says Mayer, who now runs a program called Leadership VA for the Department of Veterans Affairs in Washington, D.C. “That guy came to talk to all of us in the ward. I was feeling pretty low about my future, and this guy told us how he had gone to school, even without his hands. He talked about buying a house and a car.

We were in awe of him.”Years later, during the Persian Gulf War, Mayer and other disabled veteran friends worried about soldiers who also were victims of landmines. “I remembered the guy who had talked to me,” Mayer says, “and I realized, I was now that guy.”Mayer, a member of Post 2562 in Rockville, Md., and others began to volunteer. They read news columns and cartoons to some patients and brought posters of movie stars to others. They delivered their favorite meals from fast food restaurants.

Often, they just listened.”I think it helped them to be able to talk to someone who understood what they had been through,” says volunteer Fred Downs, who wears a hooked prosthesis to replace the arm he lost in Vietnam on Jan. 11, 1968, near Chu Lai. He was then a 23-year-old lieutenant with D Company, 1st Battalion, 14th Infantry Regiment, 4th Infantry Division. Indeed, the Amputee Coalition of America, an advocacy group, considers peer-to-peer counseling a valuable part of a new amputee’s transition to recovery. Although the volunteers do not dispense medical advice, their mere presence is considered to be both positive and uplifting.” Besides,” says Downs, who is the VA’s national director of Prosthetics and Sensory Aids, “I can help them because I know something about prosthetics.”

The volunteers participated as needed. Eventually, patients from the Gulf War dwindled. Then, after wars broke out in Afghanistan and Iraq, the orthopedic ward was once again filled with seriously wounded troops. The volunteers resumed their work. Truly Charitable CauseLast fall, steakhouse owner Koster, who spent two years (1967-69) as a helicopter door gunner with the 174th Assault Helicopter Company in Vietnam, told his friend Mayer to bring some of the wounded patients over for a free dinner.

At first, no one came.”We even passed out gift certificates,” says Koster, also a member of Post 2562. “No one took us up.”Finally, in October, a young man on crutches came through the door. He advanced unsteadily, as if not quite accustomed to being on his feet. His short haircut identified him as a GI. He was accompanied by family members. He told Koster that the doctors at Walter Reed had told him about the restaurant.”They were our first customers,” Koster says.

The next week, the soldier returned with a friend from the ward. The following week, eight or nine soldiers showed up. Before long, the handful of soldiers became a regular crowd, with as many as 40 people arriving for the Friday night dinners. With menu prices hovering above $30 per person, Koster and his partner at first absorbed the entire cost. Soon, however, as word spread among the veterans’ community, contributions began to arrive. Individuals sent checks to cover the cost of a couple of meals. A charitable group collected thousands of dollars from corporations. The Pentagon Federal Credit Union offered to help. The Disabled American Veterans offered free transportation to the restaurant in vans that could accommodate wheelchairs. Retired Brig. Gen. Theodore Mortensen, who founded and manages the Military Heroes Fund, has donated money from his organization.”I remember what happened to veterans returning from Vietnam,” says Mortensen, who led an Army infantry battalion in that war. “We weren’t exactly welcomed. And a bunch of us decided that’s not going to happen to the Iraq and Afghanistan vets. We are going to do what it takes to make these soldiers welcome.”A significant part of the welcome, Mortensen says, involves entertainment–such as that provided by good times and laughter at an upscale restaurant.

On the Friday before Valentine’s Day, Koster has set out roses, valentines and candy to welcome his guests and their families. The group begins to arrive at the start of the dinner hour. The gathering quickly becomes a lively party for the veterans, their families, and supporters. Koster calls to each soldier by name. “Hey, Donnie. Glad to see you could make it. Hey, Josh. Lookin’ good.”A beautiful young woman with a stylishly tied scarf finds a seat at one of the round tables. She is immediately pelted with tiny candy hearts by a couple of men sitting across from her. “Oh, you guys!” she laughs, brushing the candy from her lap. Her eyes quite literally sparkle with good humor. Reintegrating Into SocietyThe young woman is 23-year-old Nicole Delvaux from Green Bay, Wis. She has recently returned from Baghdad, where she was stationed as a sergeant with the 32nd MP Company, Wisconsin National Guard.

While on a force protection mission during a pro-Saddam rally, Delvaux was hit with grenade shrapnel. The metal fragments cut the nerves in her left leg and foot.”I’m working on my recovery,” Delvaux says. She does not dwell on the details of her injury. Instead, she prefers to banter with her fellow soldiers. Much of the conversation here is laced with laughter–and plenty of gallows humor. A veteran who was blinded in Vietnam approaches Delvaux’s table. First, the newcomer speaks the oft-repeated phrase of respect: “Thank you for your service.”

Then he gives a quick rundown of his own military service, ending with a punch line: “I proved I could find a land mine.”The table instantly erupts into appreciative guffaws.”Being able to joke about it–that’s part of the process,” Downs says. So, too, is reintegration into ordinary society–which is in plentiful supply at Fran O’Brien’s.”We have a regular Friday crowd,” Koster says. “Now they’re starting to befriend the soldiers.”Indeed, a group of young civilian women leave the bar area and make a shy sweep through the banquet room. “These guys are really cute,” one whispers to her companions. An hour or so later, the women are back–now chatting with ease with a group of soldiers who clearly haven’t lost their ability to flirt. At some point, Koster says, the soldiers gathered here tonight will recover and be discharged from Walter Reed. “Then we don’t see them anymore.”Doing Whatever It Takes For the volunteer veterans, the process is bittersweet. “We like to see them go, and we don’t like to see them go,” Koster says. “We get attached to these folks.”The dinners will continue until the war no longer produces “customers,” the veterans say. In the meantime, moral support is in plentiful supply.”I am here to show them that they have a new life,” Downs says.

He wedges a fork into the hook end of his prosthetic arm and begins to slice his steak. “And that new life is a good life.”It is filled with, among other things, new friends from an old war–friends who are determined not to repeat mistakes foisted upon their own generation of veterans. Says Mortensen: “We’ll do whatever it takes to make these soldiers welcome. These are real heroes.”Susan Katz Keating is a freelance writer based in Virginia.