The President’s Message in the January/February issue was extremely informative and timely. I served aboard the U.S.S. Nautilus for three years and later joined the Army, and served a total of 42 years. Three years ago, I was elected President of the Nautilus Alumni Association.

Since Nautilus was decommissioned in 1980 and crew members who served before that year are getting older, our organization’s membership of crew members has become difficult to maintain. That led us a few years ago to make a decision about our legacy.

We chose to open our membership rolls to family members and descendants of Nautilus crew members, as well as to the shore-duty crew that maintains the Historic Ship Nautilus at the Submarine Force Museum in Connecticut. We changed our bylaws to allow this and also to allow family and legacy members to serve on our board of directors. Only a former crew member, however, can serve as president.

This has allowed us to keep membership robust and interest in Nautilus alive. And it will help ensure Nautilus, her 1954–80 operational crew, and her many great accomplishments remain known to Americans forever.

I believe VVA should do likewise and change its IRS status to open itself to family members and descendants of Vietnam War veterans. Bringing them into the organization will allow VVA to remain relevant beyond the lives of its members.

There can still be a last man standing program, so long as we keep track of VVA members’ status and track the last man (or woman) standing. But when that unfortunate event occurs, our organization will not die. It will live on in the hearts and minds of our descendants and, perhaps more importantly, in the hearts and minds of all Americans.

Lonnie Barham
via email

Like so many, when I was lucky enough to come home from Vietnam, I rolled up my sleeves, went to work, finished my education, and spent the next forty years building a career and a family. Now retired, with time on my hands, and still carrying the non-physical wounds so many of us carry, I began looking for an organization where I could spend time with the veterans I shared that experience with. I became a life member of VVA.

As far as securing VVA’s legacy, having read President Tom Burke’s message in the January/February issue, and having thought about all of the alternatives I can imagine, it seems to me that one of the worst is allowing the organization to cease to exist.

One of the best is some sort of negotiated merger with VFW. Of course, we would undoubtedly lose our name, but this is a question of how to best serve Vietnam veterans, not how to maintain a name. It feels to me like these two organizations are well suited for such a merger in today’s setting and today’s VFW enthusiastically accepts Vietnam veterans. Both groups would benefit, and the resulting organization would be stronger.

Thanks for allowing me to share my opinion, and thanks for all you and the professional staff at VVA do for Vietnam veterans.

Forrest "Woody" Hester
Springfield, Illinois

I read the recent Government Affairs column, “Staying True to Our Founding Principle,” with appreciation. The sustained advocacy on behalf of Blue Water Navy veterans and those suffering from toxic exposures reflects the kind of disciplined pressure that produces real change.

It is in that same spirit that I write regarding veterans exposed to contaminated water at Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune. I served there in 1977, within the acknowledged contamination period. More than twenty years ago, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer.

While several cancers have been recognized in connection with Camp Lejeune’s water contamination, prostate cancer remains absent from the presumptive list. Yet prostate cancer is recognized under other toxic exposure frameworks. That discrepancy raises reasonable questions.

Science evolves. Data improves. Many veterans exposed during those years are no longer here to be counted. It would seem consistent with VVA’s mission to encourage continued epidemiological review of cancers that may have been underexamined or statistically diluted in earlier studies. Is VVA advocating for reassessment of additional cancers, including prostate cancer, related to Camp Lejeune exposure? If not, can that review become part of the ongoing toxic exposure agenda?

“Never again” should include ensuring no exposed veteran is unintentionally overlooked as evidence develops.

David Andrews
via email

Your photo caption on page 18 of the January/February issue is incorrect. It says the picture shows a group of Marines taking a break at Khe Sanh in 1968. There are four men in the photo and one more in the background. Of the four sitting on sandbags, only one is a U.S. Marine. The other three are Vietnamese ARVN troops.

There are several clues, but the boots are the dead giveaway. ARVN boots were leather. Only the Marine was wearing the distinctive waffle-pattern sole that U.S. troops wore, and the differences in soles can clearly be seen in the photo.

Len Bentley
Colorado Springs

I was a Coastie who sailed the Vietnam coast, where we spent the bulk of our time looking for weapons smugglers, aiding Swift Boats, and engaging in shore bombardment. I only spent about three hours on the beach at Cam Ranh Bay, Nha Trang and Vung Tàu and never got to see any Donut Dollies.

Now fast-forward to my 45th high school reunion. Afterward, a small group of us were gathered in the hotel bar catching up and discussing the last few decades of our lives. The subject of our military experiences came up and, to my surprise, a woman who grew up about a thousand yards from my house mentioned she had been to Nam as a Donut Dolly. In fact, she met her husband while there.

It sickens me to know that bill H.R. 2081, the Donut Dollies Congressional Gold Medal Act, is stalled in Congress. My classmate, Rita, is 80 years old and these ladies shouldn’t receive this honor posthumously. I seriously hope that our representatives step it up and make this happen soon.

Russ Scheeler
via email

I joined the Navy after getting my draft notice in October 1965. In bootcamp in San Diego, our company failed inspection and we had to do laps around our barracks. When we did, we started singing “We gotta get out of this place if it’s the last thing we ever do.” When I was stationed in Phu Bai (October 1968 to August 1969), I heard that song again.

Now when I hear it, I get chills and goose bumps. It brings back lots of memories. Thank you for putting that story in The Veteran.

Ken Hildreth
via email

In your January/February issue, I appreciated the picture of the Donut Dollies. Here are several of the group taken the same day at Special Forces Camp Bu Prang.

We had survived two-and-a-half months of siege surrounded by three regiments of the North Vietnamese Army and one battalion of North Vietnamese Army artillery. The Donut Dollies arrived in a Santa Claus nose art Caribou along with their crew.

Jeff Wilcox
via email

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