Parade Planned : Conference on Unity Draws Vietnam Vets

They came from Michigan and Texas and South Dakota and, of course, from California--Vietnam veterans, wearing remnants of their battle fatigues, faded khaki and baseball-type caps replete with patches and pins reflecting Army and Marine units that fought America’s most controversial war.

Crowding into the Biltmore’s Gallery Bar this week, there were high-five greetings between veterans who hadn’t seen each other in two decades. And there were faces searching for buddies who may have never returned.

The magnet was the first National Veterans Unity Conference, a weeklong series of sessions designed to address problems faced by the men and women who served in Vietnam--from job training to treating stress.

Big Turnout Expected

Conference director Tony Diamond, 52, a former USO entertainer, said he wasn’t disappointed at the relatively low turnout so far for the weeklong conference. More importantly, he said, about 300 individuals representing Vietnam veterans groups from throughout the country were there, and a big turnout of Vietnam veterans was expected for a 10 a.m. parade today down Broadway to City Hall.

“We’re not looking for a mass of people,” said Diamond, who in 1971 formed the Brotherhood Rally of American Veterans Organization (BRAVO) to assist with the special problems of veterans returning from the Vietnam conflict. The group, which organized the conference, is part of the national Vietnam Veterans Coalition.

The important thing, said Joan Maiman, 38, a former Red Cross worker in Vietnam, is that “we bring various factions of Vietnam veterans together to give some direction” to efforts to resolve Vietnam issues.

Across the street in Pershing Square, a half-scale replica of the Washington memorial wall inscribed with the 58,022 names of Vietnam fatalities was drawing little interest from office workers on their noon lunch break.

But it was a different story at the Gallery Bar, where veterans of units such as the 173rd and 101st Airborne divisions recalled firefights almost two decades ago at DakTo, Pleiku, Quinhon, Phu Cat and An Khe.

Long-Lost Buddies

Bob Minko, 38, of Detroit, formerly of the 101st Airborne, like several others, was drawn to the event more because he was looking for long-lost buddies than he was interested in sitting through the conference sessions.

“There were some Californians who were wounded, and I came here hoping to find them,” he said. “My unit was almost wiped out along the Laotian border 17 years ago today.”

Jerry Januszewski, 40, a Chicago policeman who led an infantry squad, said it has taken him years to begin to recover from the trauma of Vietnam. As the result of nightmares, he said, “I broke my ex-wife’s jaw four times in the middle of the night.”

The parade, said Larry Wilkins, 39, of Ventura, who was wearing a black baseball cap with a 173rd Airborne patch, “is 20 years too late.” But of the conference, he said, “This has to bring us together.”

Sitting next to Wilkins at the bar was an Oglala Sioux Indian, who called himself “Dirty Don” and wore a gray eagle feather attached to the back of a cap decorated with Vietnam military patches and pins. He recalled how Vietnam veterans received the cold shoulder from many Americans when they returned home. But not Indians, said the South Dakota native who had his right hand blown off by a rocket-propelled grenade.

“Indians respect warriors,” he said. “They welcomed us home with a powwow and danced for three days.”