Peace Church, Vietnam
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    A Family Matter


        Looking At Maps
    From left, Richard Camp, of Cincinnati; Roger Neilson, of Virginia Beach; William Costley, of El Dorado, Ark.; and Warren Wiedhahn, director of Military Historical Tours in Alexandria, look at battle maps in Vietnam after an absence of 30 years. (By Frank Johnston – The Washington Post)
    Col. Meyers and his wife Jo are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary today. They have decided to have a wedding and renew their vows, [and] we are all invited. ... The service was performed by Rev. Alan McLean, an Episcopal priest who was a young lieutenant. In his third week in Vietnam, he stepped on a land mine and lost both his legs. ... We gave Jo flowers, and the hotel staff made them a wedding cake.

    "Vows?" Jo quips, "I thought that was a military acronym."

    "She has been there constantly," says Meyers, now an attorney in Washington state whose three decades of service in three wars made him "a legend in the Marine Corps," as Mundy puts it in toasting the couple during dinner at a Da Nang restaurant.

    "He wasn't a legend to me," Jo declares, smiling. "He'd come home after being gone a year and try to take charge. No way!"

    The difficulties faced by military families are legend, too. Rob, who'd left active duty mainly because he didn't like being away from his wife and children, raises his glass to toast Jo and Marine wives in general.

    Sitting with Rob are Gene and Leslie Miller of Camarillo, Calif. Gene, a firefighter, eats and chats while his wife, a surgical nurse, quietly reflects on the difficulties the war had caused in their 25-year marriage.

    "Vietnam underlies everything in his life," she says. "About 15 years ago, when he saw the Moving Wall" – a traveling version of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial – "he kneeled down as if in a trance. It was like he couldn't hear me, it kind of frightened me. I took the kids, and we stayed in the car for two hours. ...

    "And that's how he began reliving the past."

    Later, she says, Gene was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, "and it's been hard. ... It's like a wound that he's had for 30 years, and he's put Band-Aids on it, but he knows it has to be lanced and drained so it can heal."

    The trip, she adds, is helping.

    "But it hurts. Especially going down the river where he was [stationed]. The boat owner was very nice and gracious; he had a wooden leg – from the war; it was an American helmet he used to bail the boat. ... We got off at several places Gene remembered. He looked at me and he mouthed the words, 'I was here. I stood right here.' "

    The tour is good for her too, she thinks. "I told my husband the other night, 'I don't know who's gotten more out of this – me or you.' "

    Then, with sudden intensity:

    "Vietnam, to me, is a woman. She's a bitch, almost like a mistress! Prior to coming here, I thought I'd learn something from her, [and] I've learned that this is a beautiful place, and the people are wonderful. ..."

    Tears are streaming down her cheeks.

    "I can understand why vets have problems being married, and it's hard for the wives, because it takes a lot of understanding and love. It really does. ... That's why I came.

    "To face the mistress."

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