A Homecoming--10 Years Later : 25,000 Viet Veterans Bask in N.Y. Parade

NEW YORK —  A decade after the war ended, America’s Vietnam veterans finally got their ticker-tape parade Tuesday down New York City’s “Canyon of Heroes.”

More than 25,000 former servicemen--some limping on crutches, others in wheelchairs--marched under gray skies through clouds of wind-whipped paper in a profoundly moving demonstration before more than 1 million cheering spectators in Lower Manhattan.

There were banners, shouts, bagpipers, flags, old uniforms, slightly rusty cadence counts, Medal of Honor winners, memories and tears.

‘Long Time Coming’

“It’s a long time coming. We don’t have to hold our heads down anymore,” said Robinson Rodriguez, 37, a former Marine corporal who was one of the marchers.

“I shed my tears. . . . I had to come down here today,” said Kevin Joyce, who lost both legs in the war. In his wheelchair, Joyce rolled along a parade route that was a corridor of applause. “I’m here to be with my brothers,” he said. “We carry a lot of ghosts around with us. We have to support each other.”

Ron Campsey, a former Army squad leader who wore his helmet and his medals--including a Silver Star and two Bronze Stars--carried his 7-month-old daughter, Sara.

“It means I’m proud to be an American, proud to be alive,” he said. “I’m marching for my men who did not come home alive.”

Near the now-abandoned Whitehall Street Induction Center, the parade moved along streets that once rang with cries of war protesters: “Out now!” and, “Hell, no, we won’t go!” For many Tuesday, the march was more than a celebration; it was a watershed.

“Dear America: It’s Time,” one placard proclaimed.

“It’s coming home for a lot of us,” said Barry Speare, a hospital administrator for the Veterans Administration. “I was on a stretcher the first time I came home.”

27 Years in Army

Marching in his gray flannel business suit, a tiny American flag in his pocket, Bill Campbell, now 55 and a vice president of New York’s Chemical Bank, said he spent 27 years in the Army, including several tours of duty in Vietnam. On his last tour, Campbell commanded the 90th Replacement Battalion at Bien Hoa.

How did it feel to be marching down Broadway? “Great,” he said. “When we came back, we were considered non-human beings.”

Campbell said the parade symbolized “recognition of all these fellows,” awareness that “they are no different than any other veterans who ever went to any other war. We just happened to go to an unpopular war at an unpopular time.”

Two-Day Celebration

The parade was the centerpiece of a two-day celebration in New York City that began Monday night with the dedication of a memorial to the Vietnam veterans and a fireworks display over the East River.

The march began in Brooklyn and ended in Lower Manhattan, following blocks of Broadway lined by office buildings and christened New York’s Canyon of Heroes because of the many welcoming celebrations that have been held along the route. Over the years, recipients of the city’s ticker-tape welcomes have ranged from Charles A. Lindbergh to America’s astronauts and the hostages in Iran.

But Tuesday’s celebration appeared to mix patriotism with catharsis. Spectators six deep cheered, applauded and waved small American flags. Some office workers watched from outside window ledges while confetti, ticker tape, computer punch cards and computer printouts spewed from office windows and rooftops.

Sometimes the marchers, many wearing their old camouflage uniforms and carrying their own tiny American flags, rushed to the sidelines to hug spectators.

‘U.S.A., U.S.A.’

“U.S.A., U.S.A.,” the crowd shouted, along with, “Welcome home.”

“We expected 10,000 marchers. There are over 25,000 marchers. It’s great!” said James M. Hebron, executive director of the New York Vietnam Veterans Memorial Commission, sponsor of the parade. The commission was established by New York Mayor Edward I. Koch.

The line of march went past for almost three hours. Marchers crossed the Brooklyn Bridge to Lower Manhattan, where they were joined by the mayor. Koch wheeled New York state Assemblyman John Behan, 40, who lost both legs in the war. Behan was one of 19 Medal of Honor winners who marched.

“It was a lousy war, but a helluva parade,” he said.

Westmoreland Marched

Gen. William C. Westmoreland, the commander of U.S. troops in Vietnam during the height of the war, marched in civilian clothes. Cardinal-designate John J. O’Connor, who served as a chaplain with the 3rd Marine Division in Da Nang, watched in clerical garb.

After finishing the march, Westmoreland returned to the reviewing stand to see the rest of the parade. But passing groups kept stopping to cheer, “Westy! Westy!” Finally Westmoreland joined one group to march again.

“I’m going out there. I’m going to march with these guys,” he told an aide.

A contingent of veterans in wheelchairs waited in the shadow of the Municipal Building near City Hall in Lower Manhattan while their fellow servicemen streamed across the Brooklyn Bridge. Then they joined the line of march. Some pushed themselves the entire route; others were aided.

Kept the Faith

“Today is my completion of 14 years on permanent disability,” said former Sgt. Harold Heath of Fayetteville, N.C. He sat in his wheelchair holding a flag. “I kept my faith in God and my country. I was in Korea. The attitude of the (American) people was good. Nobody gave you a howdy when you came back from Vietnam.”

In the midst of the wheelchair contingent marched Barbara Neumann Beals, a slim woman who held a small black-and-white photograph of her brother. She said he committed suicide two years ago from post-Vietnam stress.

“If we had that parade 10 years ago, he would have been walking in it,” she said.

Jim Casanova of the Bronx collapsed into the arms of new-found friends when he reached the end of the march. Tears coursed down his cheeks.

“I’m just thinking about the guys that could not be walking beside me right now,” he sobbed. “I hope I have a piece of them with me, just like my brothers here that I just met.”

“Before, we felt forgotten,” he added, his tears unchecked. “And now it’s time for us to say thank you.”

Eggs and Tomatoes

Wearing the uniform of the U.S. Coast Guard, the service he joined after four years in Vietnam with the Army’s 1st Air Cavalry, Larry Fernandez, 43, said he was ignored when he came home.

“When I came back from Vietnam, I was greeted in Oakland with eggs and tomatoes. I couldn’t get a cab. Nobody would give me a ride. Kids would run away from me. We were ostracized.”

”. . . I was at the memorial in Washington. That was the first time I cried in 30 years. I lost a lot of friends there. They’re all here with me today.”

“We are very happy to be parading here,” said Helen Johnson, president of the Gold Star Mothers of New York state. “We feel very badly that our own sons are not marching.”

“Bill was 24 when he was killed,” said Juanita Flahive, another Gold Star mother. “The cream of the crop went to Vietnam. They were the kids that make this country grow.”

‘Hateful War’

Her companion, Grace Boyer, was less philosophical as she strode down Broadway. “I think it was a hateful war,” she said. “We should never have been there.”

Melvin Schwartz, 47, a former Army sergeant, marched with his cane. He looked at the confetti and the steady stream of former servicemen crossing the Brooklyn Bridge in a tableau as far as the eye could see.

“They are finally saying thank you,” Schwartz said. “We are ordinary guys. We don’t expect trumpets. We went for our country. As an American, I didn’t run away to Canada or Sweden. People looked at me like I was some kind of trash. I was an ordinary guy. Even my family said nasty things to me.”

He paused for a moment to look at the veterans around him in wheelchairs. “This is my family right here. These are the people I have something in common with. I am an American. It was in the national interest. Today is the first day I feel I am home.”