Charles Lindbergh, John Glenn and Mary Lou Retton got welcome-home parades down Broadway's Canyon of Heroes within days of their finest achievements. Last week, 10 years late, Vietnam veterans finally got theirs. While 25,000 survivors marched by, a million spectators -- some ankle deep in shredded computer cards and ticker tape -- pressed together to prove with their cheers that in America winning isn't always the only thing. A sign tacked onto a barricade expressed anything the cheers might have missed: "We should have said it sooner -- we're proud of you! Welcome home!" Meanwhile, New York Assemblyman John Behan, whose legs were blown off in Vietnam, summed up his feelings of the march from a wheelchair pushed by Mayor Ed Koch: "It was a lousy war -- but a helluva parade."
The march was equal parts celebration for those who made it back and remembrance for those who didn't. The night before, a 70-foot, greenish-colored glass wall was dedicated in lower Manhattan. Etched into the wall were excerpts from 83 letters sent to and from American men and women in Vietnam. Many of the letters can be found in "Dear America," which was published by W.W. Norton last week (316 pages. $13.95). Across the top of the wall is a 1970 poem written by First Aviation Brigade Maj. Michael Davis O'Donnell, who was killed in action three months later: "And in that time/when men decide and feel safe/to call the war insane,/take one moment to embrace/those gentle heroes/you left behind."
Other etched letters were only slightly less poetic. Upon his arrival in Vietnam, Sgt. William Nelson of the 101st Airborne Division wrote: "Dear folks, It's really funny seeing guys going home and I'm just getting here. It's just one big cycle. All the guys I talked to were Infantry. They seem very sad even though they are going home. I guess they saw a lot."
Many of those back home were almost as frightened as the young soldiers. A letter from Army Lt. Peter P. Mahoney's mother carries an eloquent plea: "Dear Pete, Just a short note. Please don't do anything foolish. Seriously Pete, please take care of yourself and don't be a hero. I don't need a Medal of Honor winner. I need a son. Love, Mom."
As their Vietnam tours dragged on, many began voicing bewildered doubts. "It's a beautiful country, but I hate it," wrote Sp/4 Nickolas Szawaluk of the 101st Airborne. In 1968 Szawaluk, 20, was killed in action. And when it was almost time to leave, soldiers used to getting no answers to their questions sometimes asked that the right of silence be extended to them back home. Pleaded First Infantry Division Pvt. George Jay Robinson to his mother: "Don't ask questions. When I come home, if I feel like talking about it I will, but otherwise don't ask."
Near the bottom of the wall, words are etched from a 1975 tape Air Force Lt. Richard van de Geer sent his best friend, NEWSWEEK correspondent Richard Sandza. Sandza received the tape the same day his friend's chopper was blown out ofthe Cambodian sky. Van de Geer is officially listed as the last American to die in the Vietnam War. His words:
Dick, It isn't very easy for me to even tell myself what the motivation was to come here. I went into this searching for something. I have it now. If I could, I would probably go home. Adios, my friend.