Healing Hearts, Souls, and Minds

BY Jen Kirby

The Donut Dollies rarely thought about the danger – maybe once or twice, during incoming fire, or when a pilot had to autorotate to land a helicopter. But they got used to it quickly in Vietnam. They had to remember why they were there, at Cam Ranh. Tuy Hòa, Da Nang, Cu Chi, or some remote firebase. They were there to play games, to smile, and to bring the troops a touch of home.

A total of 627 women served in Vietnam with the Red Cross Supplemental Recreational Activities program from 1965-72. They were dubbed Donut Dollies because Red Cross volunteers during World War II and in Korea had sometimes served coffee and donuts to the troops. The name stuck, even though the Donut Dollies in the Vietnam War mostly planned activities, creating programs and games to boost morale and take the troops’ minds off the war, even just for a little while.

“Our job was mainly to smile and just try to raise their spirits or keep their spirits up, whichever way it worked,” said René Johnson, who served in Vietnam as a Donut Dolly in 1969-70.

The Donut Dollies could not reach all of the hundreds of thousands of U.S. troops in-country. But they spent their tours of duty enmeshed in military life, frequently traveling to firebases. “We were out in the jungle in tennis shoes and blue dresses,” said former Donut Dolly Susan Bradshaw McLean.

They hopped out of helicopters, and a few even learned to fly Hueys. They took cover from rocket and mortar fire, though many Donut Dollies said they never were issued helmets or flak jackets. Three Donut Dollies died in Vietnam, including one who was murdered by a U.S. servicemember. They returned to the U.S. and rarely talked about their experience, because few people back home knew what to make of these women who volunteered to go into the warzone to serve as morale boosters.

Courtesy Susan Conklin

Donut Dollies are proud of their service and saw it as a year unlike any other. “To me, it was a total experience. It was the best job I ever had, and I loved having that responsibility of being in charge of the group,” said Gretchen Ziegler. But others also recognize the lingering mental and physical costs of spending twelve months in a war zone.

“I just wish that Donut Dollies could be recognized for the service that they provided, because though they may not have been in combat, they were in combat areas, and they served during dangerous situations,” said Libbie Hegvick, the daughter of a Donut Dolly and a Vietnam War veteran, who produced a documentary film, “The Donut Dollies: 627 Women Who Also Served in Vietnam.”

“They were really very kind and brave women who gave a year of their lives, but also their hearts and their time to help men who really needed just a little morale boost, something to remind them, ‘I can get through this, I can make it back home, it’s going to be okay.’”

As Vietnam War planning ramped up, the Pentagon approached the American Red Cross about setting up a program to send women volunteers to the country. “One of the things that the Defense Department analysts realized was that this could be a situation where U.S. troops are in Vietnam for a while without any action, and [Donut Dollies] might be a way to have something to do to keep them from getting into trouble,” said Heather Stur, a professor of military history at the University of Southern Mississippi who’s written widely about women and the Vietnam War.

Donut Dollies had to be college graduates, between the ages of 21 and 24, single, and never married. You could say they were the All-American girl-next-door, but in a combat zone. “All of a sudden you were their sister, their girlfriend, a cousin and that meant the world to them,” said former Donut Dolly Susan Conklin.

Many volunteered soon after graduating from college. Coming of age in the sixties, many identified with John F. Kennedy’s call in his Inaugural address to “ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.”

Some sought adventure. Others were wrestling Courtesy of Susan Conklin A Donut Dolly bringing some of the conversational comforts of The World to four troops in the field. with the Vietnam War and saw a chance to understand firsthand what was happening there. Virtually all of them had friends, brothers, or cousins facing the draft. “I thought it was so unfair that girls did not have to do anything, and the guys were the ones getting drafted,” said one-time Donut Dolly Peggy Lynd Kelly.

Courtesy Susan Conklin

Susan McLean learned about the program from a Vietnam War veteran in her hometown. He told her that he and his fellow troops would wake up each day thinking they might die. “He said, ‘but after the Donut Dollies came from then on, we’d say, ‘today might be the day the Donut Dollies come back,’” McLean said. She wanted the job.

The Donut Dollies received two weeks of training in Washington, D.C., before they were sent to Vietnam. They got fitted for their uniforms and learned military terms. “But the thing is, it could have been six weeks of training,” said former Donut Dolly Joyce Denke. “And who could train you to go to Vietnam in the capacity that we did?”

They were stationed at bases, often staying for a few months before moving on to a new assignment. Some places had Red Cross recreational centers where the troops would come to play ping-pong or pool. “Mostly we were just there talking to them, having lunch with them,” Gretchen Ziegler said. “Whatever they happened to be doing, they’d stop and come and talk to us.”

They put on events at the rec centers, organizing a volleyball game, or putting on a fashion show, in which one guy always dressed up like a Donut Dolly. At a center in Da Nang, Denke used a light bulb as a crystal ball, put a sheet over her head, and more than 100 men lined up to have her tell their fortunes.

Manuel Balce/AP

On their mobile runs, teams of Donut Dollies would go to firebases to entertain the troops. “Everybody wanted to go to the forward areas,” said Nancy Smoyer. “That was what you hoped your day’s assignment would be.” They’d set out early, and worked 12-hour days visiting multiple outposts, ferried around in helicopters.

“They used to say to us, it was like angels would just drop out,” said Mary Laraine “Larry” Young Hines. “They could see our blue dresses from a long way away.”

The Donut Dollies always traveled in pairs and usually had one hour after landing to break the ice. They did so with games and contests. “Things like sports, cars, women, movies, trivia, women, and other games,” René Johnson said. “Those were the favorite topics. All of us would try to come up with something unique at least once or twice instead of just doing the same old things. But we also wanted to be sure that we came up with things that the guys were interested in, too.”

They would devise new programs every few weeks, sometimes relying on friends and family in the U.S. to send them the latest sports news and details about new car models. Sometimes they brought prizes. Penni Evans remembers taking Kool-Aid packets to the field. Years later, she met a veteran who remembered getting Kool-Aid from a Donut Dolly. “You never know what interaction made a positive impact on the guys,” she said.

The Dollies usually came back from the firebases exhausted, sweaty, and covered in red clay. But Terry Harmon said the troops made it worthwhile.

“The conditions out on the firebases were rough, so it meant a lot to the troops when we came in on a helicopter and landed and spent an hour there, doing our program or serving lunch in the mess line,” Harmon said. “They were very isolated. Some said they felt like they were on Mars or another planet, and we were kind of a link to back home.”

Some Dollies questioned if their service in the war made a difference at all. Julie Utschig remembers a time when she had to entertain about 50 guys about to go on the mission. The mood was pensive, at first, but once everyone got into it, they were all laughing. The next day, Utschig said, they found some of those men at the hospital. Their tanks had hit mines.

“What was our purpose?” Utschig said. “At least, the ones who didn’t make it had fun the last hour.”

The Donut Dollies were in Vietnam to distract the troops from the war, which often meant they usually didn’t have time to process life as it unfolded in the war zone. “You were always on, unless you were in the hooch,” Smoyer said. “You had to be pleasant. It was our job whether we were on work time or off time – and that can be wearing.”

The war had a way of creeping into their lives, such as the trips that Dollies made to the evac hospitals visiting the wounded. “Sometimes just saying hello was more than enough,” Penni Evans said.

Courtesy Penny Evans

They often didn’t think about the danger. They got used to the red alerts and hiding under their cots when the alarm sounded. “We just got to the point by the end of the year that we thought we were superwomen and nothing could hurt us,” Susan McLean said. “We had survived so many catastrophes that we just thought we were invincible.”

In August 1970, Donut Dolly Ginny Kirsch was stabbed by a soldier at Cu Chi. “Her death was always there,” said Evans. “For the entire time we were at Cu Chi, the 25th [Infantry Division] guys were kind of reeling from it.” Two other Donut Dollies died in Vietnam: Hannah Crews, in a Jeep accident, and Lucinda Richter, from Guillain-Barre Syndrome.

Kirsch’s murder coincided with a shift in morale in Vietnam. By the middle of 1970, the war was going badly, and it was difficult to pretend otherwise. Morale plummeted and drug use became rampant. The Red Cross officially ended the SRAO program in 1972.

Returning from Vietnam was a tough adjustment for some Donut Dollies. Peggy Kelly remembers coming back for Thanksgiving, and the only person she could talk to about her time in the war was her cousin, who had served in Vietnam.

The women served in the Vietnam War but weren’t veterans. They didn’t get benefits, though Donut Dollies were exposed to Agent Orange and some later sought counseling for what they recognized as PTSD. And it was difficult explaining to people that they went to war and played games. “I’m still the girl that was in Vietnam, not one of them, but close to being one of them, because I’ve been there, done that, but it’s still different,” McLean said.

Many Donut Dollies today say they have come to see that their service mattered, especially as they’ve reconnected with other Red Cross volunteers and veterans groups. Joyce Denke said a Vietnam War veteran once told her that “nurses took care of our bodies and our wounds and the Red Cross girls took care of our hearts, our souls, and our minds.”

Ted Wilkinson/VVA

A bill introduced in March to award the Congressional Gold Medal to Donut Dollies has 41 cosponsors. “The Donut Dollies showed incredible courage and compassion in Vietnam, facing many of the same dangers as our troops while lifting morale when it was desperately needed,” said Rep. Mikie Sherill (D-N.J.), a co-sponsor of the bill, in a statement.

James McCormick, VVA’s Executive Director for Government Affairs, said the Donut Dollies were impactful in terms of morale and support and welfare. “They have not been recognized, not in an appropriate manner,” he said. “They don’t receive any of the [military] honors, or decorations.”

A few Donut Dollies feel unsure about the medal because they got so much out of their service. Others see it as the recognition they earned.

“I didn’t consider myself really a Vietnam veteran back in the seventies,” Penni Evans said. “It took until the mid-eighties that I began to realize I may not be a Vietnam veteran with a DD-214. But I am a Vietnam veteran.”

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