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Medford woman, in-laws share tears, hugs Photo by Paul Fattig Medford resident Linda Moreau clutches a field jacket once owned by her brother while one of his widow's younger brothers and another relative join her in grieving. Vietnamese family recalls her brother's devotion to wife By PAUL FATTIG EDITOR'S NOTE : Today is the third in a four-day series about a group of Rogue Valley travelers healing wounds -- their own and others' -- in Vietnam. Today's story describes the reunion between Linda Moreau and the Vietnamese family she had never known. CHU LAI, Vietnam -- The road of red clay winds among the bright green paddies and pastel-colored cottages in this Vietnamese farm village. A black water buffalo, its tail swishing to ward off insects, munches grass along an irrigation ditch filled with murky water. Rice farmers shaded by conical hats wade barefoot through the fields. But Linda Moreau, bouncing along the road in a van with other Rogue Valley residents, wasn't focusing on the scenery. For the first time, she was about to meet members of the Chau family, her in-laws living in Chu Lai. It was here that her brother, Mickey Allen Wilson, courted Mary, the woman who would become his wife. The helicopter pilot was shot down near Quang Tri on Jan. 8, 1973, a month after they were married. Mary, now living in Tennessee, had visited the Vietnamese village just before the Rogue Valley residents arrived earlier this month. Now in constant communication with the Moreaus, she told her relatives of the Oregon relatives' pending visit. Still, Linda Moreau was concerned about the reception she would receive. "I thought that they would just nod their heads politely, maybe be kind of standoffish," she would say later. She needn't have worried. Although they could not speak English, her in-laws spoke eloquently through their hugs and tears of joy. In a small cabinet in the living room stood two familiar faces. "I can't believe it -- in this house, halfway around the world, are photos of our grandchildren," observed Linda's husband, Nick, referring to Travis, 3, and Hayden, 2, back in Medford. "That really gets to me," he added quietly. But no more than the visit of the Rogue Valley residents got to the Chau family and other villagers. More than 50 smiling people gathered at the home, peering in the widows and doorways. It was in this house that Mary and her parents, who have since died, once lived. It was also where Linda Moreau's brother came to visit. One of Mary's younger brothers now lives in the small but clean cottage made of red-clay bricks and concrete with bamboo rafters. Mary has three brothers and three sisters. Just before he was shot down, Mickey Wilson had written home to inform his family about his marriage. His letter said he planned to bring his Vietnamese bride to the United States the following February. His wife, who had his son, later came to the United States, where Linda Moreau found her two years ago. Surrounded by fields of rice and vegetables, the Chau home resembles most houses in the village. At the rear is a clean pigpen containing three small pink pigs. And, like in rural Vietnam, the home has an open well protected by a round concrete enclosure rising about 3 feet off the ground. A bucket attached to a rope rests on the edge of the concrete. A compact but stout dog, resembling a basenji, rested on its haunches near the pigpen. It may have been a Vietnamese dog understanding only Vietnamese commands, but it growled in perfectly good English. The rest of the villagers met the Americans with open arms. Two of Mary's brothers sat by Linda Moreau, laughing one moment, crying the next. Suddenly the older brother, Chau Ghoc Thuong, jumped up and ran to his nearby cottage. He was back in a few minutes, carrying a threadbare American Army field jacket. "He say this is the jacket that Mickey gave him," explained interpreter Le Thi Tam. "He cut it down because it is too big. He say he keep it because it was Mickey's." The brother handed to Linda the jacket that Mickey had given him more than a quarter of a century ago, explaining that it was now hers. There was silence as Linda Moreau and her in-laws wept in silence, hugging each other. Later, after leaving the Chau home, Linda Moreau was quiet until until the van crossed a bridge about a mile away. "There was no bridge here at the time," she said. "He would park his jeep, then meet Mary's brother (who had given her the field jacket) who would come across in a boat to pick him up." Her brother had driven south along Highway 1 for more than an hour, through the village and past the rice paddies to reach the river's edge. "Mickey would borrow the chaplain's jeep to go see Mary," Linda Moreau said. "The chaplain said that if he didn't give Mickey his jeep, then Mickey would walk." That chaplain was Gene Hanson, now 61 and a minister in Beloit, Wis. "He told me he wanted to use the jeep to go see his wife," Hanson recalled. "He said he would have it back in Da Nang in the morning. He always did. "He was just a real nice guy who was obviously very much in love," he added. "His life was wrapped up in this young woman." Warrant Officer Wilson wasn't one to carouse like many young men in the military, Hanson observed. "He didn't hang around the club," he said. "He was more of a family man, interested only in being with her. So whatever free time he spent with her." Back on Highway 1, Linda Moreau, who would bring home her brother's jacket, reflected on his trips to find peace in a war-torn country. "He came down this road," she said. "I can just see him, in his jeep, going to see Mary. "I'm glad he found a place like this," she added. "It's very peaceful." (Tomorrow: Linda Moreau journeys to the site of her brother's death.) `This is for all the veterans' Photo by Paul Fattig During a ceremony near Phu Bai, from left, Vietnamese interpreter Le Thi Tam, Nancy Ramey, Linda Moreau, Vietnamese driver Dang Tran Thang and Nick Moreau remember those who fell during the war. Short ceremony honors war dead on both sides By PAUL FATTIG PHU BAI, Vietnam -- No one spoke as they gently placed the five red roses in the green grass for the five fallen soldiers. Incense smoke wafted in the hot afternoon breeze, enveloping the kneeling group. The site was near the mountain of Bach Ma, the scene of a firefight that erupted in April 1969. Two Americans with the U.S. Army's 101st Airborne were killed, along with three Viet Cong -- the latter enemies of the Americans during the war. A former member of the 101st, an archaeologist now living in Arkansas, had written to Linda Moreau to ask her to place the flowers for all five. Moreau, looking for contacts before the trip, met the man over the Internet. "I include the Vietnamese fighters because they earned a place of deep respect in my heart," he wrote. "They suffered too, and deserve this honor... "Maybe a minute of silence to honor these five gallant men who are in my mind `forever young,"' he added. "It still hurts. There were many other encounters but this one sticks with me ... this is the one where I `grew up' at 19 years of age." During the short ceremony, Linda Moreau and her husband, Nick, and Nancy Ramey, all of Medford, bowed their heads. Joining them in quietly honoring the dead were Vietnamese interpreter Le Thi Tam and driver Dang Tran Thang. "When we knelt down, that was hard ... I was thinking about Fred," Ramey said later, referring to Fred Graten, a 1965 classmate from Medford Senior High who was killed on April 11, 1968, in nearby Dong Ha while in the Marine Corps. The ceremony was also for others who served -- and died -- during the Vietnam War. "This is for all the veterans who came over here," Linda Moreau said. "They deserve to be remembered." Earlier that week, the Moreaus and the two Vietnamese had also visited My Lai, the site of the March 16, 1968, massacre committed by American soldiers. The village is less than 20 miles by air from Chu Lai, where Linda Moreau's brother had befriended a Vietnamese family. The site is now the scene of a government memorial which, in addition to addressing the tragedy, cites two Americans for stopping further bloodshed. The two dozen visiting Vietnamese army soldiers, all in olive-drab uniforms with red trim, gave only curious glances to the visiting Americans. There is no mention of atrocities committed by the North Vietnamese regulars or the Viet Cong during the war at the memorial. Later, while reflecting on the trip, Linda Moreau noted that finding fault is not the answer. "I just want my grandsons to know what war is like, and that we must do what we can to avoid it," she said. "We need to avoid the mistakes we made. We need to learn from all of this." Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA