Marching for their fathers' honor

Jeanette Chervony traveled from her home in California to the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C., to tell her father, who died in the war, that he had a grandchild on the way. She left a gift -- a hinged double picture frame -- for her dad, Sgt. Eddie E. Chervony. Inside were the first two sonograms of his grandchild. If it was a boy, she wrote in a note, she would name him after her father.

``Dad: This child will know you -- just how I have grown to know and love you -- even though the last time I saw you I was only 4 months old. I love you, daddy,'' read the note. That was Father's Day, 1993.

Today, Chervony and son Eddie, 4, will clutch photographs, dog tags and medals as they and about a half-dozen other children of Vietnam soldiers walk in the Bristol Fourth of July parade. They hope to get the warm welcome that Vietnam veterans didn't. ``There is no place like Bristol,'' said Ernie DiRocco, president of the Rhode Island State Council of Vietnam Veterans of America. ``In my opinion, it's the most patriotic town in the United States.
 

Ernie DiRocco- Vietnam Veteran- USN Seabee
 

``We want to see them get the welcome that their fathers deserved,'' said DiRocco, whose organization teamed up with Sons and Daughters in Touch -- a national group that provides support for children who have been unable to reconcile the absence of their fathers -- for the parade.

Growing up, many of the children of Vietnam soldiers were unable to talk or learn about the parents who died in a war the country wanted to forget. Sons and Daughters in Touch and Vietnam Veterans of America are trying to change that.
 
 
 

``Some of [the veterans] are scared to let you know what they know,'' said Chervony, of Costa Mesa, Calif. ``To them, it is reliving those memories.''

Sgt. Eddie E. Chervony was killed on May 5, 1968, three days short of his 21st birthday, after rescuing six wounded soldiers he didn't know.

From pictures obtained from her father's commanding officer, Jeanette Chervony was able to see the mountain-top artillery base where her father served and died. The photographs showed a young man smiling as he dug a trench. She could also see the bullet-riddled artillery guns and jeeps left by the attacking North Vietnamese Army.

(Left to Right-
Melanie Brown, Jennifer Denard and Lisa Slamin)

Another parade marcher, Jennifer Denard, of St. Petersburg, Fla., recently visited the war memorial in Washington. There she met a veteran who knew her father, Capt. William A. Branch. The man told her she had her father's eyes and walk.  She had never known that, Denard said.
 

Branch was killed on June 6, 1970, about two weeks before he was to return home. He died while he trained his replacement on a helicopter reconnaissance flight.

``I never celebrated Father's Day,'' Denard said. ``It was like reliving his death.''

Today, more than 20 years after the war, the children of soldiers killed in Vietnam are asked why they still mourn for their fathers, especially since they were too young to know them or even remember when they died.

``That's the question that cuts me up,'' said Dawn McMaster, of Terra Bella, Calif., whose father, Sgt. Don A. Hawkins, was killed on Nov. 1, 1967, his 23rd birthday. He never knew his wife was pregnant with their daughter.

``I grieve for the father I didn't have. You don't just get the hair and eye color. You have a part of them in your heart,'' McMaster said. ``The children weren't allowed to grieve for their fathers back then.  ``This is our time to grieve.''

`There's a lot of patriotism in the crowd out there'
A red, white and blue day on the streets of Bristol 

By Michael Corkery, Liz Foran, Soljane Martinez and Raghuram Vadarevu
Journal-Bulletin Staff Writers

A canon blast rattled the air, the Mount Hope High School band struck up the national anthem, and the town crier swung his ceremonial bell as the Fourth of July parade surged into action at the corner of Hope and Chestnut Streets yesterday.

Tens of thousands of flag-waving and flamboyant spectators packed the 21/2-mile route, crowding every inch of sidewalk and lawn space, to catch a glimpse of the historic parade.

The four-hour spectacle of drumbeats, baton twirls and military brass was the climax of Bristol's 213th Independence Day celebration, the oldest in the nation.

With the blazing sun sending temperatures into the mid-80s, Bristol fire and rescue personnel were busy with 30 calls for heat exhaustion and other minor medical emergencies. Police said there were a few minor arrests during the parade.

Despite a few mishaps, it seemed nothing could spoil this age-old celebration that is steeped in small-town tradition and filled with old fashioned fun.

``There is a lot of patriotism in the crowd out there,'' said town crier Gerry MacNeill, 64, as he prepared to lead the procession down Hope Street at the start of the parade.

``But it's more than that, it's a celebration in general. A day to take time off and enjoy yourself.''

For many revelers, the party started long before the parade. Many awoke at dawn to claim a coveted spot along the route.

By 5:30, sidewalks along Hope Street were filling up fast, said Michelle DaSilva, of Bristol, while guarding her two blankets' worth of space near the Guiteras School on Hope Street.

``When we got here, there were people sleeping on blankets all along the street, and this is all we found,'' said DaSilva. There was no early-morning scramble for the Sousa family, who has lived on the parade route for the last 50 years. The Bristol residents slurped Manhattan clam chowder and freshly brewed coffee while soaking in the jazzy sounds of the Orlando Magic and the Northern Lights marching bands from the comfort of their own front yard on Hope Street.

``This is a great time when our family gets together for the Fourth of July,'' said Sharon (Sousa) Morrow, 46. ``And you can use the bathroom when you want to.''

THE PARADE was a very emotional family affair for the half-dozen children of soldiers killed in the Vietnam War who marched in memory of their fathers yesterday.

As they hoisted photos of their fathers above their heads and wore their fathers' dog tags and medals, they were greeted by waves of applause, and even standing ovations. Some on-lookers placed their hats over their hearts as the group passed.

``I can't describe how I feel,'' said marcher Dawn McMaster, of Terra Bella, Calif., as tears rolled down her cheek. ``I have never seen anything like this in my whole life.''

McMaster, whose father, Sgt. Don A. Hawkins, was killed on his 23rd birthday, is a member of a national group called Sons and Daughters in Touch, which provides support for children who lost their fathers in war.

Make note of  the people in the back ground clapping and giving standing ovations as well as the RED-WHITE-BLUE center median which is permanent on the main street of Bristol, Rhode Island
 
 
 
 
 

During the parade, McMaster and Melanie Hinzman, of Weston, W.Va., who also lost her father, Staff Sgt. Earl F. Brown, in Vietnam, walked together.

At one point, Hinzman turned to McMaster and said: ``I'd rather be walking with my Dad, but I'm really glad to be walking with you. It's too bad they didn't see the people here.''

McMaster turned to Hinzman, placed her hand over her heart and mouthed, ``They're in here.''

Melanie Brown-Hinzman (WV) in the front, Lisa Poteat (MA) in the rear,
marching with Vietnam Veterans in Lieu of their fathers.
(Scanned from Newspaper, please excuse the quality of the picture)

Please notice of the RED/WHITE/BLUE stripe down the street, it is there all year around

PATRIOTISM TOOK on many different personalities yesterday. From the crisp white uniforms of the Navy band to the red, white and blue hair dotting the crowd, it also came in many shapes and sizes.

Stephanie Hawthorne, of Warwick, had patriotism written all over her face -- literally.
She painted an American flag from ear to ear to match her flag pendant, hat, rings, bracelets, earrings, pants, shirt and nails. Even her underwear matched the theme of the day, she said. ``The crowd, and seeing people dress up, it's a real good way to be festive, and safe, since there's no alcohol allowed,'' Hawthorne said.

Flags snapped to attention in a breeze blowing off Bristol Harbor, bagpipes wailed and cannon smoke hung in the air, as more than 2,000 marchers on 26 floats and 31 bands strolled the streets. And in this election year, there were plenty of politicians.
 

Once again, Providence Mayor Vincent A. Cianci Jr. seemed like the easy favorite this year. Flanked by an entourage of about 100 police officers, squirting water guns and blaring sirens, he had the audience reeling with delight. Many women ran out to sneak a hug.

``This is a slice of Americana,'' said marcher Gretchen Kane, of New Orleans, who was dressed up as the Statue of Liberty. ``I'm absolutely in love with Bristol.''