Vietnam War and MRS. LIEUTENANT – Part II

As explained in the introduction to Part I, the following Amazon review was written by Diana Faillace Von Behren (“reneofc”), an Amazon Top 500 reviewer, and posted here with her permission.

In this, her first Sharon Gold novel, Miller addresses the concerns of this era in American history. Written perhaps as a part memoir – Miller was herself a `Mrs. Lieutenant' – the story is cleverly crafted from the viewpoints of four very different young officers' wives whose lives intersect at Fort Knox in Kentucky during their husbands' AOB training.

Choosing from America's vast melting pot of ethnicities and cultural backgrounds, Miller selects wisely, yet not stereotypically, succeeding in exemplifying that no matter how diverse or varied all women carry similar burdens that formulate their personal definition of `dread.'

As the northern Jewish girl, Sharon comes close to that which I am most familiar. Sharon has guts; she questions; she holds firm to her belief system yet remains fiercely loyal to family and friends even though their sensibilities may vary from hers. Her strength is tangible and it changes those around her.

Pretty head-turning blonde Kim hails from the South--orphaned as a child and broken by the indifference of a series of foster parents, she clings to the security given to her by her jealous husband who cannot stand the thought of any other man looking at her.

Wendy, a black girl from South Carolina, sheltered by her parents, knows nothing of the rampant prejudice encapsulated within the societal microcosm of Fort Knox. Seeking nothing but acceptance, she cringes when her husband decides to go regular Army instead of `indef vol' like most of his classmates.

Attractive Latino Donna loves her blonde haired blue-eyed husband dearly, but for her, too, the very word `Vietnam' wreaks havoc in her soul, connoting nothing but death, destruction and possible widowhood. The hopes and aspirations of all four women create a semblance of the `every-woman' of that time.

For each of them, the idea of Hell and Vietnam becomes synonymous.

Miller uses an alternating third person voice to delineate her chapters and to flesh out each of the women and their motivations. As each of the women enters `her own private Vietnam', the reader journeys back to that time period, empathizing with the plight of these couples while experiencing a more comprehensive slice of American life from the varying perspectives.

Miller's use of popular songs and clothing labels from the early 70s titillated this reader –again I haven't thought about many of these iconic items for years. Ms. Miller, I thank you not only for the compelling story, but also for refreshing my memory.

Bottom line? Phyllis Zimbler Miller has fashioned her own remembrance of things past in her novel, "Mrs. Lieutenant." Her main characters sing out against the things that disturb them most about life in the early 70s while trying to adjust to being the wives of new second lieutenants and come to terms with their individual desires. As a one time `Mrs. Lieutenant,' Miller's voice rings true in each of her incarnations. The pages fly by in this introspective novel of friendship told beneath the cloud of Vietnam.

Recommended, especially to those children of the 60s and early 70s. For me, this author made this era shake off the dust of the past and again become a viable entity – one that rumbled with turbulence and defined those dark specters of dread that remain with us till this day.

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Vietnam War and MRS. LIEUTENANT – Part I

The following Amazon review was written by Diana Faillace Von Behren (“reneofc”), an Amazon Top 500 reviewer. I asked her permission to post this review on my blog because I love the way she talks about the Vietnam War era. My only changes were to break up long paragraphs into shorter ones. So, without further ado, here’s Diana:

When I was a girl in middle school, my homework assignment for one winter evening was to write a Christmas letter to an unknown soldier serving in the jungles of Vietnam.

Vietnam.

At that time, just the word conjured up all sorts of morbid illustrations projected onto the big screen inside my head. I could imagine the intense heat, men, no – mere boys, dressed in fatigues carrying canteens slick with condensation, dog tags dangling from silver chains that jingled perilously as they walked stealthily through foliage that grew thick and frighteningly multitudinous like some big banana leafed forest in a Rousseau painting.

The teacher at the time, forbidden to express her views about a war that perplexed the American public urged her class to be kind – these boys were far from home, from the pleasures we took for granted – rides in red convertibles with the tops down, the smell of crispy fries from the new hot burger stand – McDonald's, the look and fresh scent of a pretty girl swinging her newly straightened hair as she glanced behind her to see just who was watching her in her plaid miniskirt and dark tights. . .

These random mental snapshots typified the American way of life and justified detouring countless American boys from dreams they had dreamed from the time they were old enough to dream.

I wrote my letter; I don't remember the soldier's name. I knew he was nineteen and probably didn't care about what some sixth grader had to say. While I organized my litany of seasonal trivial events in a neat little handwritten format, I could hear the news – the somber voices of Walter Cronkite and Dan Rather recounting the number of American deaths amidst the cacophony of gunfire and chopper blades.

Uncertainty became something familiar – an old friend like the grim reaper – the shadow of his sickle hovering over all our heads like the darkest rain clouds. The persistent feeling of dread penetrated the sanctity of one's inner spirit like the tattoo of the television's images of helicopters, fire and screaming children.

I thought of my cousin, just ten years older than I was – would he be sent away from the huge family dinners of lasagna and laughter? Would men I knew be receiving letters from young adolescents that they didn't even know?

And then on a larger level I wondered if I would be able to sleep at night as the world as I thought it should be would never be the same after all the controversy – the peace marches – draft dodgers running to Canada – the anger over Jane Fonda posing with the Viet Cong – Civil Rights protestors raging in faraway places like Alabama. How would all this effect the dawning of the new era – what the flower children called the `Age of Aquarius?'

Would my soldier ever get my letter? I never received a response, yet somehow that event – that writing of the letter – etched in my memory for all time the sensation of losing control. The boys with low draft numbers were devoid of that sense of managing their lives. ROTC became an option, as being an officer was far better than being an enlisted man.

I hadn't thought about my personal origin for that dark feeling of `dread' in a long time – that is until I picked up Phyllis Zimbler Miller's novel, `Mrs. Lieutenant.'

Read Part II in the next blog post.

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Vietnam War, Amazon reviewer, Diana Faillace Von Behren, Mrs. Lieutenant, Civil Rights, Walter Cronkite, Dan Rather, Jane Fonda