Our Son Defected: A Mother`s Plea
By Helen Barnette, DeLand, FL (1972)
Note: Recently, as I was sifting through some of my father`s files, I came across this unpublished piece by my mother. Written in 1972, it offers an eloquent depiction of the call to respect the views of others regarding critical issues-be it war, amnesty, or other matters. My own children have read it, and it has magnified their appreciation for their "brave uncles," John and Wayne. With the blessing of my siblings, I submit this to a broader readership, and we dedicate it to all of the brave brothers and sisters who, like John and Wayne, made the hard choices and lived out their convictions during the turbulent days of the Vietnam conflict.-James Barnette, Samford University, November 2006.
"A warrant has been issued for your son`s arrest . . ."
We had known of Wayne`s plans for months prior to his leaving in 1969. Following his junior year abroad at the University of Munich, he had returned to complete his studies at Centre, a small Presbyterian college in Danville, Kentucky.
Because our modest brick house in Louisville was within one hundred miles of the school, Wayne came home almost every weekend during that full semester. Sometimes he brought friends with him "to meet my folks and get into a real home," and to allow them to engage in intellectual and philosophical discussions with Wayne`s dad, Henlee, a theological seminary professor.
On other occasions, Wayne would come alone. Henlee and I often sat with him at the small kitchen table, eating Gouda cheese and drinking hot tea, talking late into the night about many things that mattered to Wayne: his love of linguistics (he`s fluent in German, Swedish, and Russian); the many cultural opportunities he`d had in Europe to indulge his love of classical music; the beauty of the European and Scandinavian countries he had toured before returning to the United States; his desire to return to study and, later, to live in Europe; his deep concern for friends he knew who were having to interrupt their education because of the draft; his anxiety for his elder brother, John, who had forfeited four graduate school scholarships to volunteer for the Air Force; and his complete disillusionment with our involvement in Vietnam, which he felt was a colossal mistake.
Regardless of how late our Saturday night talkfests would last, Wayne was eager to attend the next morning the neighborhood Southern Baptist church of which he had been a member since he was nine years old. The young pastor there was greatly admired by Wayne as well as by many of his college friends. On weekends when they were unable to make it to Louisville, Wayne and his crew would gather to utilize the former`s short wave radio to pick up the weekly service on Sunday from our church.
Wayne is a deeply religious young man.
"He has openly defied the law of the land in failure to comply with the selective service law . . ."
At eighteen Wayne had registered with the local draft board as a conscientious objector. He assured us that his deeply-felt pacifism stemmed from taking seriously the precepts he`d been taught at home and in Sunday School: "Thou shalt not kill" . . . period. No qualifying escape clause there. "Love thy neighbor" . . . "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Had we neglected a patriotic duty when we failed to insist that these biblical injunctions were applicable only as they were in accord with the national policy?
John, three years older than Wayne, has always seemed to be the more serious of the two. Quiet, steady, orderly, and precise, he is a Phi Beta Kappa graduate of the University of Tennessee with a major in political science. He too has been a member of the same church since childhood. Both boys went to the same schools through high school, had many of the same teachers, played on the same baseball and basketball teams, shared the same room in their teens, had the same parents and the same two younger siblings. Both worked to help pay for their college education. Both were employed during one summer by rival soft drink companies (Coca Cola and Royal Crown), hoisting crates of filled bottles. So many of their experiences were parallel; but their courses of action regarding military service were quite different.
No overwhelmingly "hawkish" motivation prompted John to enlist in 1967. He simply felt duty-bound to follow without much questioning the "letter of the law." More of a homebody than his brother, John at that time had never been west of the Mississippi.
Wayne, on the other hand, had been to Europe twice, and reveled in immersing himself in the culture of the various European and Scandinavian countries. His was a freer spirit that was not bound by national perimeters. Due to his impeccable German (thanks to a masterful "Herr Professor" at Centre), he was often mistaken for a "native" in Munich. There was so much to do, see, absorb, and appreciate in other cultures-so much that was valid. To him, the U. S. was not the ultimate example, especially in matters of foreign policy.
His decision to leave this country for good, therefore, was not a surprising one.
"He can never cross the U. S. border again nor go into a NATO country . . . "
There were, of course, other alternatives which we had discussed with Wayne: (1) the application for Conscientious-Objector Status (the granting of which seemed a remote prospect indeed judging by that particular draft board`s record of C-O rejections, including that of Muhammed Ali).
"But if I plan to live in Europe anyway, why take out two or three years for C-O service, thus giving a semblance of support to a policy I am in total disagreement with," Wayne queried?
Or (2): there was the possibility of seeking a "high sensitivity" job as a translator or similar position in a governmental agency, securing a high priority deferment. Or (3): he could capitalize on some old allergies and seek a medical deferment. (This latter idea he rejected contemptuously upon its suggestion!)
Feeling keenly that a disproportionate number of this country`s poor and black were bearing the brunt of the "ill-advised and illegal" war in Vietnam, Wayne decided that, in order to be truly consistent in following his pacifistic convictions, his own action must express his thorough disagreement with every aspect of warfare, and, in particular, the Vietnam "undeclared" war.
"But must remain in exile from this country . . . "
I believe Wayne was more aware than most of the young men who have followed this course, as to the consequences and ensuing difficulties he would face. As he had traveled in Sweden, he could handle the foreign language. He was aware, too, of the finality of the physical separation from his family.
"The hardest part," he confided, "will be not being able to see Martha (then twelve) and Jim (then eight) grow up."
"If he should attempt to return . . . "
He had decided. I knew that Sunday afternoon when, as I washed the dinner dishes, I heard Wayne and his dad conversing in low tones in our first-floor bedroom. Then Wayne came into the kitchen and, moist-eyed, embraced me without a word. I buried my head on his shoulder.
"Can he already be this tall?" I recall thinking. "Oh God, John is in Vietnam-now Wayne will leave us for good? What can I do? What can I say?" But there were no words-in any language.
A few weeks later, his passport was renewed.
"at any time or in any manner whatsoever . . . "
In the spring of 1969, Wayne brought Anne home to "meet the family." A lovely brunette from Tennessee, she was a straight-A fellow student at Centre who shared his delight in languages and the arts. They were obviously in love:
"She`s the ONE!" he announced delightedly.
"Does she know of your plans?" I couldn`t help but ask.
"Yes. And she`ll be right with me!"
I felt profound relief that he would not be totally alone in his exile; yet I was concerned that it might prove terribly difficult for Anne. My suggestion was that it might be easier if Wayne left alone after graduation, sending for Anne when he was settled. Neither agreed. Anne was adamant in her determination to share with him every step of his exile. I marveled at her strength and fierce loyalty.
"he will be arrested . . . "
A quiet wedding ceremony preceded graduation in early June. That night Anne and Wayne drove back to Louisville with us. My "good-night" to them was also "good-bye," for I would be at my regular junior high school teaching job when they departed. They had already secured air line reservations for the following afternoon.
Next morning Anne packed a trunk to be shipped to them later, while Wayne went to the bank, withdrew the savings he had earned over several years. They did not ask us for money. This was their independent affair.
The final preparations were completed by mid-afternoon. There was little conversation as Henlee drove the young newlyweds to the airport. Nearing the terminal, he attempted some banter about their "pioneer spirit . . . facing the unknown." Then more seriously, he asked, "You`re sure you don`t want to reconsider?" Anne and Wayne exchanged glances; his hand covered hers and he managed a soft, "No." Their simple gold wedding bands reflected the late afternoon sun.
"Godspeed, my children. . . ."
I rushed upstairs to Wayne`s room as soon as I got home from school, half-hoping, half-expecting them to still be there. "Maybe they didn`t finish packing in time . . . maybe the plane was late . . . maybe he changed his mind. . . ." Some college textbooks were stacked beside his old desk. On the desk was a record player we`d given him when he graduated with honors from high school. Beside the neatly-made bed remained an extra pair of shoes which he couldn`t fit into the luggage they carried with them, some dresser drawers were left half-open, and in the corner lay Wayne`s beloved balalaika with a note attached: "Fur Martha-meine keine schwester." Instinctively I reached over and picked up the familiar instrument that Wayne had so often lovingly strummed, but the three stings responded discordantly to my touch. As the sound echoed in the strangely lonely room, I remembered an expression our minister used often in bidding farewell, "Brave journey . . . and Godspeed, my children."
There was little time for nostalgia or tears. Young Jim bounded indoors with a casual "They gone? When`s supper?"
At bedtime, however, Jim requested, "Now tell me again about Anne and Wayne. Where have they gone? Why? And who will be mad at Wayne? Is he wrong or is he right? Will he ever be back? Does he still love us?" (Jim never asked the other side of that one, "Do we still love him?")
I tried to answer honestly and fairly these earnest questions. Jim asked them many other times in the days that followed.
Together our family prayed for Anne and Wayne on their journey to Sweden and for John in Vietnam.
Actually we knew only a minimum of details of Wayne`s carefully planned departure. We knew they were flying to Detroit, going from there to Canada. They wrote to us from Toronto where they spent several weeks before flying via Icelandic Airlines to Luxembourg, going from there to Stockholm. We knew only the general outline of his plans, for Wayne wanted to "protect us" insofar as possible against the time we would be questioned by federal authorities. And questioned we were.
"Where is your son? . . ."
Our initial FBI interrogation occurred in mid-August. A well-dressed, clean-cut young agent rang our doorbell, flashed his identification for my inspection, and asked to come in. (I`ve since decided to talk to these agents at the door. There is no need to invite them inside.) Another agent remained in the waiting car, blocking our driveway. (In case Wayne were hiding out in the basement and made a dash for freedom, I wondered?) The first agent, holding a dossier, glanced around the room, sat down on the sofa, then asked politely, "Where is your son, Wayne?"
"In Sweden," I replied.
His eyebrows arched and he inquired, "Has he received his draft notice?" (Wayne`s notice had come in July indicating an early August draft call date.)
"It has been forwarded to him. Whether or not he has received it, I cannot say."
There were more questions directed to my husband and me for about half an hour. The matter of the warrant for arrest, penalties for attempted return and such were explained to us. As the agent rose to leave, he looked at me and said, "Don`t you expect him to come back at Christmas . . . or in case of a family crisis or something?"
"No," I replied, "we had the understanding when Wayne left that in the event of any sort of family crisis-including the death of any of us-there was no need for him to attempt to return. Our knowing the depth of Wayne`s feeling for us is not dependent upon his physical presence here. He won`t be back."
"I just can`t understand it," the agent muttered as he headed for the door.
"No," I observed, "you wouldn`t."
We have had similar periodic visits from the FBI throughout these intervening three years, the most recent interview taking place January 7, 1972, in Florida, where we have been on sabbatical leave.
"`Louisville Man Defects to Sweden`. . . ."
We knew it would be only a matter of time before news of Wayne`s "defection" would become public knowledge. To friends who had inquired about him during the summer months, we had replied truthfully that he and Anne were "honeymooning in the north." We just didn`t bother to say how far north!
Then in September, the young couple was granted residency permits by the Swedish government. Lists of those granted such permits are published there and, of course, are of interest to the Associated Press and other wire services. On the afternoon of September 11, 1969, a representative of the AP called from New York to confirm the news release from Sweden.
My initial reaction was a defensive "What business is it of theirs? Let`s don`t tell them anything!" But Henlee calmly reassured me, "We have nothing to hide."
His guilelessness was evident in the article which was front page news in the Louisville Courier-Journal the next morning:
Wayne Barnette, 22, a graduate of Louisville`s Atherton High School and Centre College at Danville, Ky., was listed yesterday among 13 new U.S. `defectors` who have taken up residence in Sweden. He went there in June after being classified 1-A in the draft.
His brother John, 25, is a first lieutenant in the U. S. Air Force, who has served a stint in Vietnam and is up for promotion to captain. Their father . . . said yesterday, "We wholly approve of what both have done. . . . You can`t plan your children`s lives for them," the father said. "They`re fine boys, strong men, intellectuals, and excellent athletes. . . . His father said he noticed the other day underlined in Wayne`s old Bible, `Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.` That`s his guiding principle."
The Louisville Times added other quotes from Henlee: "Both boys have the courage of their convictions . . . Wayne considers himself more a `draft resister` rather than a `defector` and is radically opposed to killing and to the Vietnam war. But the younger son would have gone to Europe regardless of his draft situation. . . . He loves Europe and has always planned to live and teach there."
"This is a real human interest story," exclaimed one fast-talking reporter who called. "It`s the `One-Wore-Blue-The-Other-Wore-Gray` bit all over again!"
Another editor was more pensive. "Your family situation here seems to typify the deep division within our country regarding the entire Vietnam War."
"Which one are you really for? . . ."
We had tried to prepare Martha and Jim for the onslaught of public reaction. But we had underestimated the amount of interest the news media would evince due to the seeming "hawk-dove" angle here.
"Hey, I heard about your brothers on TV!" exclaimed one of Jim`s friends.
"Yeah, neat!" chimed another. "It was in the paper, too. Your name wasn`t in there, though, Jimmy. I looked for it."
"No, but they said he had a `brother, 8.` That was me!" Young children have an effective way of insulating themselves and accepting without recrimination what could be hurtful.
Junior high age is sometimes less kind. One boy in the school hallway pointed an accusing finger at Martha and hissed, "DEFECTOR!" A female fellow-classmate asked pointedly in front of several others, "Well, Martha, which one are you really for-John or Wayne?"
"I`m for both of them," replied Martha firmly.
"Well, I think you should be for John!" sniffed the friend.
"Your son is yellow! . . . (signed) A Mother"
There was, of course, an outpouring of reaction to the news story. We received many letters decrying the "cowardly" action of our son. I found wryly amusing the one from a woman who said she was a fellow Kentuckian, fellow Southern Baptist, and the mother of a soldier; but she had one word for our son and that was that he was "yellow." Then, lacking the courage to sign her own name, she closed the letter with, "A Mother."
But in greater numbers came letter and phone calls of supportive understanding from friends as well as strangers. My own teaching colleagues were wonderfully kind.
Upon my arrival at school the bleak morning on which the news hit the papers, I went directly to my homeroom. As I flicked the light switch to illume the dark classroom I saw on my desk a vase of exquisite roses with the early dew still clinging to their leaves and petals. Beneath the vase was a card inscribed: "(My wife) and I agree with Dr. Barnette. They are four wonderful children." The card was signed by a fellow teacher, himself a World War II veteran, who had taught both John and Wayne in the ninth grade. This perceptive gentleman, upon reading the news account that morning, had taken time to go into his rose garden before coming to school in order to offer a gesture of immeasurable kindness.
The silent eloquence of those tender roses shook my composure; and, for the first time since the wire service phone call had shattered our privacy the evening before, I was able to weep.
"Oh, I can`t let my students see me this way!"
One of the older teachers came quietly into my room, slipped her arms around me and said simply, "I just had to come see you!" While I knew she couldn`t agree less with the political implications of Wayne`s action, and although she had no children of her own, she was sensitive to the fact that we were experiencing a difficult time and she "just had to come."
By the time the bell rang to admit the students, I had somehow regained a serenity which carried me through the day. Only a few of my students were aware of the connection between the local news item and their teacher-I could tell by the way some watched me-curious-that day. We stuck mainly to "bookish" lessons that Friday, instead of including our usual segment of spirited current events discussions.
Some of my husband`s colleagues were equally supportive, especially those who had sons who had served or were serving in Vietnam. The seminary switchboard buzzed with calls from irate persons who insisted that Henlee should be fired, that he was not "fit" to teach in a denominational institution. The switchboard operator and secretarial personnel were gracious to such callers, at the same time shielding Henlee from receiving these calls personally.
Perhaps because military involvement either had loomed largely or threatened to in the experience of the seminary students themselves, it was among this group that Henlee found the most heartwarming affirmation of his stand of being solidly behind both sons.
We were most grateful for those who reached out to us in expressions of reassurance during this period. It was interesting to note the hesitancy of many well-intentioned friends and the immobilized silence of many who would be the "first to respond" in some other sort of family crisis such as death. But there is no formula set forth in etiquette manuals or established social practice as to how one responds in a situation which involves "stigma" or public rejection.
No doubt the negative reaction would have been much more pronounced had the fact of son John`s service in Vietnam not also been a part of the story. In his own quiet way, John served as a "shock absorber" for his family. We were profoundly grateful when he returned safely from his second tour of duty at Ton San Nhut Air Base.
"With malice toward none . . . "
On the national scene during the intervening three years, our country has been shocked and repulsed by the revelations of My Lai and similar massacres. The disclosures contained in the Pentagon Papers have shaken our confidence in the decision-making processes relative to our involvement in Vietnam. Our casualty rates continue to bring grief, and the ranks of POWs and MIAs have swollen to at least 400, perhaps more.
Reversals of national policy have, within recent months, occurred at dizzying rates. Our President journeyed to Peking and Moscow. Men such as Joseph Davies and John Service, whose statements regarding our "China Policy" capitulated them into disfavor and disgrace during the McCarthy era, are now sought out as men of astute wisdom. Some even maintain that the suggestions of such men could possibly have averted both the Korean and Vietnam undeclared wars.
Many of our young exiles were taught in high school and college by teachers who remember well the McCarthy "Red Herring" tactics of the 1950s. Those who perceived the folly of narrow stereotyping and "guilt by association" were able to instruct well their students to analyze various facets of given situations, to be evaluative rather than hastily judgmental, to try to utilize historical perspective and total world view rather than succumbing to political expediency with an eye to election or re-election.
Their students listened and learned well. Evidently the real crime of which our national exiles are guilty is that of arriving too soon at the conclusions to which our national policymakers now find themselves adhering!
It is for this reason I wish to raise a plea for amnesty for the 75,000 exiles. To maintain that refusing to support a policy, now in essence refuted by our national position, is a criminal act, seems to me to be unjustifiable and wrong.
But what of the over 50,000 who died in defense of that policy? I cannot and would not detract from the nobility of being willing to fight unto death for one`s ideals and what he (or she) believes is right. The ennobling factor was these men`s dedication-not the questionable cause or purpose of the fighting; for even the once-dominant "containment policy" is now being viewed by respected government officials as an exercise in futility.
Nor would I in any way undermine or demean the tremendous suffering, anxiety and sacrifice experienced by our fighting men in Vietnam and by their families. Our family likewise experienced a great deal of the gnawing anxiety when our eldest was in the Saigon area around the time of the Tet offensive.
Having spent this past year in Florida where many retired military personnel reside, I have often heard vehement objections to the granting of amnesty as being "unfair to those who obeyed the law," and "breaking faith with those who fought." And I can understand the deep resentment felt by these veterans of World Wars I and II and the Korean conflict, for surely they were brave, steadfast people who fought nobly and well. But please note that those were wars declared (with the exception of the Korean "police action") in accordance with our constitutional provisions; and the entire nation was mobilized for the purpose of defeating a monolithic enemy believed to be a threat to world peace.
Our Vietnam involvement has been quite different; thus ideas and courses of action regarding it have also been quite different.
I am not so naïve as to maintain that every exile or deserter was prompted by the highest motives of morality. If indeed some or any of these individuals have committed some other crime here or in the country where they sought refuge, let the respective civil courts deal with those cases. But to write them all off as "cowards" or "animals in a zoo" (Vice President Agnew`s phrase) smacks of the same sort of closed-minded stereotyping which characterized the McCarthy hearings. Too, it ignores the fact that leaving family and familiar surroundings, going to a totally new locale to become established "on one`s own" requires a special courage and independence long extolled and cherished throughout American history, until tainted recently with the stigma of resistance to a new-defunct policy. How interesting it would be to discover how many of our leading citizens are descendants of families who immigrated to this country while seeking to avoid military service in their homeland!
Some of our brightest, most creative young men (and women) were among those who left the U.S. in defiance of the draft. Among our casualties in Vietnam were thousands of similar caliber. We cannot afford this sort of squandering of our most important resources.
Our family is very much aware that our son Wayne and his family (they now have an eighteen month old daughter) would never choose to return and live here. But there are many other exiles who would welcome the opportunity to become re-established in the U. S. Instead of denouncing them en masse, let us remember that these young people too have been tempered by time and experience, and can be valuable contributing members of our society.
Restoring full civil rights to those who chose to resist the draft in prison here should be a concomitant part of amnesty. These imprisoned resisters can mark "paid in full" to those who insist on retribution for refusal to fight.
How often is the statement made, "they knew the penalty-they must pay the price." Granting amnesty would be one way of saying to our exiles, "you have begun the paying of the price. But we realize that part of the responsibility for the debt is ours. So we as a nation will help you pick up the tab."
Amnesty should not be regarded as granting a "hero`s welcome" to those who left the country at a difficult time. And to those who insist on reprisals and tribunals, enough of that! Let the granting of amnesty be a quiet, dignified, simple action, unheralded by fanfare, which implies, "Take your place among us when you please and help us to build, not to tear down."
Surely the Vietnam War has divided our country in a way unparalleled since the Civil War. Our society is still "paying the price" of the failure of our ancestors to deal realistically and unselfishly with many of the problems of reunification following that conflict. Retribution, fear, suspicion, racial hatred, and self-justification poisoned much of the "reconstruction," and left monumental problems and tensions to be dealt with by succeeding generations.
This again will be the legacy of our future generations unless we can recapture the true essence of "malice towards none," and reach out to our fellow citizens-our children-in at least as much earnest "mutual understanding" as we offer to those who formerly denounced as vicious enemies of world peace!
As a mother, I can attest to the fact that on occasions it is possible to over-react in punishing children. This results in a residue of hurt feelings and corrosive resentments. The most effective ways, we are told by the "experts," of dealing with children are the promulgation of "we-ness" and a sense of shared purpose, assuring the little ones they are worthy members of the family.
No parent is infallible; no government is infallible. Can we afford not to apply the principles of love, acceptance, forgiveness, and shared purpose to the unifying of our national family?
I am convinced that if President Nixon granted unconditional amnesty, which he has the constitutional power to do, this would be a positive factor in the achievement of his 1968 campaign promise to "bring us all together."
© James R. Barnette, Samford University, 2006.
Editor`s Note: Helen Barnette taught eighth grade English for her entire career. She died of cancer in 1992 at the age of 60. Henlee Barnette, renowned Christian ethics professor, died in October, 2004 (see Henlee Barnette: Practical Practitioner by Larry McSwain, CET, Fall, 2006, 6).
