Last year I was in the attic searching for Christmas decorations when I came across a shoebox covered in dust.  I kicked the shoebox over to the side and continued looking for ornaments.  I finally gave up and was about to call my mother for help when I tripped over the shoebox and a pile of letters came spilling out.  I set up a blanket on the floor, sat down, made myself comfortable, and gingerly untied the frayed yellow ribbon that had been holding some of the letters together.  As I started to read through the letters I realized I did not recognize the handwriting.  I flipped the paper over and saw my grandfather’s name.  I flipped the letters back over and saw that the letter was addressed to my grandmother, and it was dated 1965.  My eyes grew in amazement as I continued to read, and realized that I never considered the fact that my grandparents had actually been happy before they divorced.

My grandfather and grandmother met in a supermarket in Carteret, New Jersey, where they both lived at the time.  According to my grandmother, it was “love at first sight.”  They dated for a year and a half, and were married in a small church on a breezy afternoon in May 1954.  They lived in a small apartment not far from where they were married.  My grandfather painted houses to make ends meet, and it wasn’t long before my grandmother was pregnant.  They moved to Staten Island, New York, and my Aunt Robin was born in January of 1956 (Hietala).  In three months my grandmother found out she was pregnant again, and the following January my mother was born.  In the years that followed my family, the Maynards, moved back to New Jersey, and my Aunt Pattie and Uncle Jimmy were born.  They had what people considered to be the perfect life: “four children, a big house, a backyard, a swimming pool, a picket fence, a cat, and a dog” (Hietala).

Everything continued to go smoothly until my grandfather received a phone call in March 1964 (Maynard).  My grandmother said that he got off the phone with a very grim look on his face.  He went to their bedroom, where he stayed for almost twelve hours.  He finally came out and told my grandmother that the navy had requested that he go to Boston and repair ships.  He didn’t want to go, but he had to.  In the middle of June my grandfather went to the train station, and it was there that he said goodbye to my grandmother.  He did not know that he would not see her for almost two years.   Those two years were filled with heartache and grief for my family, but my grandfather made the best of it by writing my grandmother letters weekly so that she knew that he was okay.

My grandfather left to go to Boston on June 14th (Maynard).  My grandmother did not know how difficult her life was going to be once her husband left.  At first she got by on money she had been saving for her children.  That money quickly ran out, and my grandfather’s checks from the Navy were not sufficient.  Although plenty of jobs were available since many men were serving their country, my grandmother had a hard time finding a job to suit her needs.  My grandmother was not able to work at night because of her children, so she needed a job where she would be able to work daytime hours.  She looked for a babysitter so she could work at night, but she could not afford to pay anyone.  Finally, she found a job at the Institute of Basic Research.   Her job consisted of making phone calls and looking at samples that came in from the lab.  While she was working, my mother and my Aunt Robin were in school, and my great-grandmother cared for my Aunt Pattie and Uncle Jimmy.  My grandmother’s days were long and exhausting.  She woke up at 5:00 AM, took a shower, cleaned the house, and made the children breakfast.  She made the beds while they were eating, got them dressed and made my mother and my aunt lunch for school.  She dropped my aunt and my mother off at school, took my other aunt and my uncle to my great-grandmothers house, and made it to work by nine.  Then she worked until five, picked all the children up, made them dinner, helped with homework, gave them baths, read to them, and finally, she collapsed into bed around 10:30.  She continued with this routine for two years. One day, about three weeks after my grandfather left for Boston, my grandmother realized just how hard the new situation was going to be.  She missed her husband dearly, and she was nearly exhausted.  She worked overtime that night, and by the time she picked up the children, it was a quarter to nine.  She rushed the children in the house, and grabbed the mail and went in the house.  One letter was a letter from my grandfather.  This was the first time she had heard from him since he had left for Boston.  His letter was short and sweet.  It was only six lines long, but it put my grandmother’s mind at ease.  The letter simply said, “Dear Dee, Everything is fine here.  I work 18 hour days, and sleep the other six.  Please kiss the children for me.  I hope to see you soon.  Take care of yourself.  All my love, Jimmy.”  My grandmother cried for two hours over this letter, just because she missed him so much.  It was because of this letter my grandmother decided she needed to do something.

When President Lynden B. Johnson sent troops to Vietnam, my grandmother really started to worry.  She was at home raising four small children, and was struggling to provide for her children.  To hear that there was a chance that her husband could be sent overseas was a nightmare for her.  Day after day she prayed to the Lord that her husband would return home to her in the near future.  But her prayers were not answered.

My grandfather did not return to Staten Island for two years.  During these two years, my grandfather would sit down at night and write my grandmother letters.  He would ask her how she was doing, how work was, and how the children were.  He told my mother to make sure “Linda does her schoolwork, Robin behaves herself, Pattie goes to bed on time, and Jimmy is in by the time the streetlights come on” (Hietala). The first time I read the letters they seemed short, sweet, and to the point.  I reread the letters for a second time, and then again for a third, and realized that these letters were more than quick “I love you, everything is fine” letters.  The letters that had been stuffed in the shoebox were more than just weekly notes to say hello.  Not only did the letters contain pieces of my family history that I did not know existed, but they also showed how although my grandparents loved each other, they struggled during the war.

My grandmother and grandfather were not the only people who were affected by the Vietnam War.  The entire country was involved.  During the Vietnam War, the nation was divided.  Part of the country was known as “hawks” and the other half “doves” (America).  “The hawks wanted to continue the bombings over North Vietnam and remove the shackles from American generals” (Thinkquest).  “Doves were people who held mass protests because they felt that the United States should not be involved in the Vietnam War”  (Thinkquest).  My grandmother was a dove because the sooner the war was over, the sooner her husband would be back home where he belonged.  While my grandfather was away, and even after he returned, she held small protests with other women (Hietala). Although she did not take part in any large protests such as the March on the Pentagon or the Protest in the Capital, she did meet with approximately fifteen other women every Friday to try and figure out how they could make a difference in the war.  On two separate occasions my grandmother, along with the other women, marched with picket signs in front of the county court house in Saint George, Staten Island.  The women also made posters and decorated Staten Island with them.  The posters aimed at trying to convince people to get involved in trying to put an end to the war.  “The title of the posters read, ‘Calling All Doves’” (Hietala).  The doves were far more vocal than the hawks, and organized extensive antiwar demonstrations (Thinkquest).  This worked to my grandmother’s advantage, and in less than a month, over one hundred people had signed up to join the antiwar demonstrations. My grandmother said that if it were not for the fact that her husband was at war, she would have been a “hawk”.  These were the people who supported America’s fight against North Vietnam.  My grandmother was strongly against communism; she just did not want her husband to be away from her.

As for my grandfather, he was not having an easy time in Boston either.  His only possessions were a bed, shoes, a pair of pants and a shirt, and other little necessary items for living.  For three straight weeks he worked 18 hours a day preparing for any attacks.  He built, painted, and repaired ships.    My grandfather then got shipped to South Vietnam, where he “continued to build and repair ships” (Maynard). On Sunday, August 2nd, 1962, a ship of the U.S. Navy had been attacked on the high seas. “The American ship was a destroyer, the 3300-ton U.S.S. Maddox”(Windchy 1).   They fired three torpedoes and machine guns, but no one died.  After this, U.S. Navy fighters from the carrier Ticonderoga attacked the North Vietnamese patrol boats.  On August 3rd The Maddox was joined by another destroyer, the U.S.S. C Turner Joy, and together they sailed within eight miles of North Vietnam’s coast, while South Vietnamese commandos in speed boats began to harass North Vietnamese defenses (America).   At night bad weather affected the accuracy of radars on the destroyers.  The Navy on board the ship believed they had come under torpedo attack from North Vietnam, so both the Destroyer and the Maddox opened fire.  It has not been proved that there was ever an initial attack.

President Johnson decided that America should retaliate, even though he was not sure there actually was an attack.  “On Wednesday, August 5, President Johnson was talking with a few friends and remarked to them, ‘Well, boys, I guess we’ll never know what happened’” (Windchy 293).  A bomb was dropped on North Vietnam shortly after.  Two Navy jets were shot down during the bombing, and the first American prisoner of war was taken.  Then on August 7th, the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution was passed.  This document allowed for President Johnson to take any necessary actions to protect the Unites States, including using armed forces. The days during the war that were spent at the Gulf of Tonkin were the most terrifying for my grandmother.

Throughout all of this all my grandmother knew was that the situation was bad.  She knew her husband had been shipped to South Vietnam, but those were the extent of her details.  All she had to go by was what reporters were saying on television.  The reports were so bad that she would not allow my aunts, uncle, and my mother to watch television because she did not want to know that their father was in danger.  All my grandmother could do was fear the worst.  She did not get any letters from my grandfather until August 17th (Hietala).  The letter was long, and she reread it all night long.  She was overjoyed to have tangible proof that he was alive, but she was also saddened because although the letter was full of details, they were only details about the war.  There was nothing personal in the letter.  It seemed like the war had taken over who he was, and although he remembered to write a letter, he did not remember how much he loved her.

 My grandfather was able to return home in September, before he had to return to Boston. My grandmother was overjoyed that he was home, but things were not exactly the same.  It is funny, North Vietnam fought in the war to reunite North and South Vietnam.  In the process, North Vietnam kept my grandparents from being reunited.  As much as the two tried to keep peace in the family, both were irritable.  After spending so much time apart, it was not easy to integrate into the happy family that they once were.

After being on the home front for approximately three weeks, my grandfather had to return to Boston.  My grandmother was even more frustrated at this point, and she continued to work with the fifteen women she held protests with.  A few of her friends   decided that they wanted to join large-scale anti-war organizations.  Three of her friends joined an anti-war organization known as Women Strike for Peace.  Women Strike for Peace was composed of middle-class, middle aged white mothers.  Founded in 1961 to protest the threat of nuclear war, by 1967 the organization switched its energies to concentrate on draft resistance and counseling (Jones 6).  Other friends of hers decided to join the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, which was a pacifist group founded in 1915.  My grandmother was going to join the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, but before she had the chance, she received a telephone call that changed her life.

In October 1966 she received a telephone call from a doctor in Boston.  The doctor told my grandmother that my grandfather had injured his back, but the extent of the injury was not known.  My grandmother worried all day and then received another telephone call from a navy base.  The call was short; my grandfather was dismissed from the service because of his injury.

A week later my grandfather returned home.  He was very bitter that he was dismissed from the navy because now he felt helpless. He was not able to do anything except sit back and watch how the war unfolded.  Every night my grandfather sat on the couch in the living room during dinner watching the news to see if there were any new developments in Vietnam.  He was so ashamed that he was not able to help anymore, and he took the bitterness out on my grandmother.  He would not allow my grandmother to join an anti-war organization.

My grandmother was frustrated because she could not get through to her husband.  She felt that he was being hypocritical.  He did not want to sit around and watch the war go on without him, but he did not want my grandmother to go out and make a difference.  He felt that if he could not help, then she could not help to end the war either.  My grandmother heard that a sit-in was to take place at the Whitehall Center in December 1967.  The Women Strike for Peace and the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom were going to be there (Hietala).  My grandmother secretly planned to attend with her friends, but at the last minute my grandfather found out and forbade her to go.  The demonstrators gathered at 5 A.M. to find twenty-five hundred police awaiting them.  The center was barricaded with wooden sawhorses (Zaroulis and Sullivan 145-146).  Two hundred sixty five people were arrested that day; five of them were friends of my grandmother.
After my grandparents fought about my grandmother joining an anti-war organization, they did not speak about the war.  Actually, they really did not talk at all.  The two of them focused mainly on their children, and remained polite to each other for the sake of the children. The two of them knew they would be happier if they divorced, but neither one of them wanted to face reality, so for over a year the two kept to themselves.  It was not until Richard Nixon made an announcement in 1969 that the two began to talk about the war once more.

President Nixon decided in June1969 that the troops in Vietnam were to be removed.  It began modestly with the return on 25,000 troops of the 550,000.  By the time Nixon’s first year in office ended, the number of troops had been reduced to 475,000; a year later, the American force totaled 335,000 (Hess 117).  The war had grown even more unpopular because of the news coverage that was being brought into the living rooms of virtually every American home, so when news came that the United States were withdrawing their troops, cheers were heard across the country.

My grandfather was not one of those people who cheered.  He wanted to United States to stay in the war until it was over.  He was even willing to go back to Vietnam so that he could help.  When South Vietnam surrendered, my grandfather broke down and cried.  He spent so much time helping to win, and South Vietnam lost.  He spent two years of his life dedicated so that the United States would be victorious, yet all of his work left him disappointed.  He did not know how to react to his family because he felt like a failure.

 This was the beginning of the end for my grandparents.  From here on they were very distant towards each other.  Things seemed okay on the surface, but underneath, their marriage had failed like South Vietnam had.  And just like with the war, my grandfather tried to help his marriage, but he failed at that, too.  Life after the Vietnam War was a continuous struggle for both my grandparents.  “All of the fighting finally ended with a divorce in 1973” (Maynard).  My grandparents divided their belongings, sold their house, and said goodbye.  My grandfather moved to Florida, and my grandmother moved with her children to another house in Staten Island, because she did not feel it was fair to have the children not only watch their parents go through a divorce but also have to move and change schools.  At this point my Aunt Robin was seventeen, my mother was sixteen, my Aunt Pattie was thirteen, and my Uncle Jimmy was eleven.  My grandmother watched her children grow older, attend college, and eventually get married.  My grandfather called, sent birthday cards, and visited as much as he could.  Although he could not be with his children all of the time, he tried to make the best of the situation.  He always made sure his children knew the extent of his love for them.

 My grandfather still lives in Florida, and my grandmother moved to New Jersey five years ago.  She realized she had to many things to bring to New Jersey with her, and so she stored some of her belongings in my attic.  Among these belongings was that shoebox that contained those sentimental letters.  When I asked my grandmother why she saved the letters, she simply replied, “because I love him.  I will always love him.”  I came to the realization that just because my grandparents are not together anymore does not mean that we are not a family.  They will always love each other, just in a different way.  My grandmother kept those letters because they are a part of her history – my family history.

“America Commits 1961-1964.”  Vietnam War.  4 Jul. 1996.  The History Place. 4 Dec. 2000. http://www.historyplace.com/unitedstates/vietnam/index1961-.html#gulf>

Hess, Gary R.  Vietnam and the United States.  Boston, Mass: Twane Publishers,  1990.

Hietala, Dolores.  Personal Interview.  5 Nov. 2000.

Jones, Catherine M.  “American Women and the Vietnam War.”  Y&M Online Magazine.  Dec. 1999.  9 Dec. 2000.
<http://www.afsc.org/youthmil/html/news/dec99/womenviet_print.htm>

Maynard, James.  Personal Interview.  22 November 2000.

Windchy, Eugene G.  A Documentary of the Incidents in the Tonkin Gulf on August 2 and August 4, 1964 and their Consequences.  Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1971.

 Zaroulis, Nancy and Gerald Sullivan.  Who Spoke Up?  American Protest Against The War in Vietnam 1963-1975.  Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1984.