Women in Wartime: A Donut Dolly
By Holley Watts
None of us really knew what we were getting into. Generally speaking, we were educated but naïve, optimistic but cautious, determined but wary. The challenge was then (as it still is) trying to describe it.
The brochure said it was a morale program for the able-bodied. We staffed our centers so the men could come in and enjoy some coffee, Kool-Aid, conversation, card games, variety shows, whatever we could organize.*
On clubmobile we went to the men in the field by helicopter, jimmy, jeep or six-by to Fire Support Bases, Landing Zones, field hospitals and base camps. We traveled in pairs, like nuns, one of us said, and used our programs to suspend their reality for just a little while.
Sometimes the word was, Charlie’s coming tonight and we’d join them to fill sandbags. As if we kept score we’d always ask,” Hi, How are ya? Where ya from?”
We were the face of the girl next door, a connection to family, community, home…and we were armed with smiles, a good ear for regional accents and a quick wit.
A friend distilled this somewhat lengthy job description—“Oh,” he said, “a cheerleader!”
Our official job title was Clubmobile Recreation Worker in the Supplemental Recreational Activities Overseas program (SRAO) of the American Red Cross. Initially designed to support the morale of the troops in WWII’s European Theatre, buses were converted to mobile “canteens” for the fighting men — a place to relax with coffee, snacks, even a small library.
The Korean conflict demanded greater mobility so 2½ ton specially adapted trucks replaced the buses and hot freshly made donuts replaced the snacks. No one argued.
When the SRAO program went to Vietnam mere memories of those patriotic pastries were passed along to the next generation of troops. Heat and the helicopter killed the donut. The only survivor was the moniker “Donut Dolly” and even that took some time to arrive, coming into regular usage in the late sixties. Red Cross HQ continued to discourage its use as unprofessional and frivolous but the overriding positives of memorable alliteration and a name that evoked fun won out. The name stuck.
Not all the Donut Dollies themselves liked the term for the same reasons as the ARC HQ but wearing a sweatshirt or tee to any Vietnam veterans gathering today a neutral observer would be quick to notice that there would be a special camaraderie when to hug a complete stranger and welcome him home after all these years still makes you both cry.
It’s important to note that troop morale was always a high priority and in supportive roles women were seen as an integral part of that equation, lopsided though it was at 4,000:1 in Vietnam. Only by invitation of the military could the Red Cross girls visit troops in remote locations, field hospitals, fire support bases, landing zones and base camps. Unauthorized flights, no matter how sincere the invitation, no matter how adept the pilot, could result in immediate expulsion and a one-way ticket home at the DD’s expense.
Recently, one grunt told me he never participated in the games or even spoke to us, yet he was sure to be there whenever we visited. It was, he said, because we brought the gift of our presence, and in doing so helped save his sanity, while reminding him of his humanity. And for us, who were thousands of miles from home in a hostile environment, having left behind friends and family to serve our country by creating a touch of home in the field we simply hoped it might really count for something . . .
Four to five decades later that “something” has counted. It’s been expressed in love, hugs, tears of gratitude, even an apology. The latter from a chopper pilot who frequently took the DDs from one stop to another before heading back home with them at the end of a very long day. “We had a lot of unpleasant odors on that aircraft but when the Donut Dollies got on board their perfume was heavenly (and us DDs regarded perfume as part of our uniform.) So why the apology? “Because,” he said, “we always took the long way home.”
We traveled in pairs and made our way around a combat zone without weapons. In practice, we were a combination TV game show host / girl next door / scout den mother / Miss America / comshaw expert and sister. The GIs both wanted to talk to us and couldn’t say a thing, wanted us to stay but couldn’t get us out of their areas fast enough. We were loved, tolerated, and admired but never ignored.
It’s hard to ignore someone on a mission. Our mission was to create the diversion that would take our troops’ minds off the war, caring deeply about them, playing games and smiling, smiling, smiling.
We maintained our sanity with a sense of humor, especially initiating a new girl on her first clubmobile run. Take the term “rotor wash.” Just prior to boarding the chopper we’d introduce her to the crew then one of us would give the pilot a simple nod. His response was a “just-so” dip of the blades and the new girl’s skirt would fly straight up, usually accompanied by a scream and desperate attempts to push it back down much to the delight of the crew and other DDs (who’d quickly tucked their skirts between their knees). Welcome to ‘Nam.
The rec center was a great gathering place for conversation, card games, variety shows, whatever we could organize. For Twister we were usually able to recruit some willing Marines. The only thing they hadn’t counted on was how long we would take to spin the dial forcing them to topple over to everyone’s roars and laughter.
Before Vietnam NONE of us had experienced war. We Donut Dollies weren’t impervious to the pain of loss, but we became experts in hiding it.
I’d never forget that day in March when one of your buddies came to the center and asked me, “Do you remember John Clarke from Khe Sanh?”
He probably told me how it happened but I can’t recall his words. I remember my response, “Oh.”
I showed so little emotion I wondered later if he thought I didn’t care. Just . . . “Oh.”
I thanked him, went into the office and closed the door. I took deep breaths. I walked in circles. I stopped by one of the worktables and tried to force a chaos of papers into some logical order, but it was beyond me.
When I returned he’d already left.
I stayed busy, was chatty and that evening took home the Santa decoration John helped me make three months earlier, the one I still have.
Angie, our unit’s pet, had several pups in the fall. We gave them away during the holidays and kept track of their whereabouts. Then in May we heard a base was overrun and among the casualties was one of our pups.
My floodgates finally broke.
We truly loved those we served, the brave and bravado, the ones that came to our centers, the ones we visited in the field and hospitals, the ones we listened to, raged at, raved about and the ones we cried for. We couldn’t have been more proud to work with and serve “America’s Best.”
In September 1967 I came back to the Real World. From the train station I caught a cab to my parents’ home, but along the way I must have been commenting a lot on how different . . . how long . . . how cool . . . how . . .
“Lady, where have you been?!” the cab driver asked. “Vietnam,” I chirped.
A quick look in his rearview mirror and he veered his cab toward the curb. I pressed hard into the back of the seat where he couldn’t reach me to throw me out. The cab stopped.
His hand flashed in one smooth slow motion—palm up on the steering column shifting into park, palm down on the meter’s arm. The meter stopped. I pressed harder into the seat. When he turned around, I braced myself.
“Welcome home, Lady . . .This ride’s on me.”
In the field there was one basic rule we learned from the men: Don’t get too close to the guys in your unit. In addition to a sense of camaraderie, the men found they could emotionally distance themselves by using nicknames, but tracking those who were either wounded or killed in an action was extremely difficult because there were no list cross-references. Fortunately, the chronologically grouped names on the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial, known as The Wall, is helpful, but matching nicknames and the individual still remains a frustration.
WHERE CAN I FIND THEM?
We volunteered to go to war, took games to the troops to make them smile
and were all the world like the girl next door with a touch of home for a little while.
To base camps, hospitals and LZs we’d float, we’d fly, we’d drive
and hoped, somehow, to remember them would keep each one alive.
War showed us no such kindness, so to honor them instead
we carved their names in granite walls to be remembered, touched, and read.
But those lists of names are useless when it’s Skeeter, Dutch, or Bro,
Four Eyes, Gramps, or Greaser, whose real names we didn’t know.
Where can I find them on The Wall? To match a name with the face we knew,
To find each one who gave their all, like Ski, Pops, Corky, Kid, or Stu.
I played Cribbage with the Cowboy and wrote letters home for Buzz,
but I can’t tell you who they were; I just know that each one was.
They introduced themselves to us as Stoney, Big Mike, Ace, and Bear.
That’s how we see and hear them still . . . just can’t find them anywhere!
Some rearranged their given names or shortened them instead.
There’s Smitty, Fox, and Bud. Yank, Mack, L.T., and Red.
They talked about their favorite things—Chip’s girl, Sly’s dawg, Buck’s car.
If we had a roll call now, I couldn’t tell you who they are.
They went by MOS and size like Gunny, Doc, and Too Tall Paul.
I’d bridge that gap and ease my pain if there were nicknames on The Wall.
It’s easy to remember Rusty, Gabby, Swede, and Jer.
They’re locked inside my memory and not going anywhere.
But I can’t reach out and touch the names that I know are on The Wall.
You see, I never got to say good-bye, or, Welcome Home, that, most of all.
There are so many stories within The Wall itself. In 1982 when The Wall was dedicated and its panels filled with over 58,000 names of our military, I found it not only a place to honor those we’d lost but also an assurance, of sorts, that someone’s absence from The Wall meant more than likely he’d survived. And in that alone, there’s hope.
Cheerleader in a war zone—a fun-sounding job with a very serious purpose. The idea of the morale program was created by Act of Congress in WWII, but it was the American Red Cross that designed the program, first in England and Europe then later in Korea where convoys of specially adapted 2½ ton trucks welcomed the incoming troop ships by producing
as many as 20,000 donuts a day, proof of the axiom that an army travels on its stomach. Commonly used terms of endearment are almost always associated with food; “Sweetie Pie,” “Dumpling,” “Sugar Plum,” “Honey,” “Baby Cakes,” but it’s “Donut Dolly” that caps the list, and it’s the GI’s enthusiastic expression of appreciation that make this patriotic pastry (& the DD name) so memorable.
I left Vietnam but, truth be told, it hasn’t left me. Triggered occasionally by the most ordinary sight, sound or smell, I am instantly transported there, however briefly, and in this . . . I’m not alone.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. Would I want my daughter to go? Never.
Welcome Home!
Proud to be an American.
Proud to be a Donut Dolly!!!
* Italicized content is taken from Holley’s book, Who Knew?: Reflections on Vietnam.
THANK YOU for your service from one who was there: ’69-’70.
Thank you!!!! Your service inspired me to become a Navy Nurse.
Hey Holly, excellent article. Even tho’ you can’t find the names to those who might have died…I know that they remember you…you and the other DD’s touched our hands, our faces, and our hearts. You took us away from the war and we will always be grateful for your doing that, however brief it was. You gave us your smiles, a twinkle from your eye, and love from your heart. The care you gave us can never ever be repaid. We are so grateful to all of you who came to serve us. And serve us you did in such an amazing way. I count it an honor to have known you and other Donut Dollies. WELCOME HOME…
Love from one of your brothers…
Doc Pardue
THE GALS DRESSED IN POWDER BLUE
What’s a girl doing in a place like this?
You were all so beautiful and full of grace
We could not take our eyes off their round eyes or their legs
And the way the area smelled when they were around
Set our heads and hearts a spinning
They were the girls from back home
That came to help us forget for a while where we were
We called you our Donut Dollies
But they were much more than that to us
You were our moms, our sisters, our girlfriends and wife’s
Who brought to us a sense of sanity in an insane world of war
They touched not only our hands, they touch our hearts
But more than that they touched our souls
They shared with us the same hardships, the same sadness,
The same joys that war brings to the mind, heart, and soul
These girls in blue gave us hope, and they gave us love
They gave us themselves in a moment in time
The journey we shared made us brothers and sisters
And a few became our soul-mates of the soul
Thank you for being there, thank you for playing the games,
Serving us meals, for singing to us, and loving us when
So few cared about us from back home
We used to call you our Donut Dollies
But now we call you our heroes dressed in powder blue
We are still amazed by your round eyes and legs
For all of us are still dreaming the dreams of 20 year olds
And we still see you through the eyes of innocent boys
Becoming old men before our time
We found that blue is a great color to wear to a war
©Copyright November 15, 2008 by Kerry “Doc” Pardue
All the Donut Dollies were fantastic, especially at Lai Khe……….thank you, for your little glimpse of home.
To the Donut Dollies at Lai Khe, to all Donut Dollies, Thanks, and Welcome Home!
Great piece, Holley. Never there, but even this made a difference…..
Trying to locate a Donut Dolly who flew on to Firebase Jack to find me…..don’t remember her name…but she went to Florida State University and was on the FSU circus on the trapeze…if you know her or where I could find her contact me at vietvetrecon@aol.com Thanks
Hello Holley, I never met you or any of your sisters , but I was there. I want to thank all of you who gave your time and smiles , to a bunch of strangers, who didn’t have to. Most of us were there because we had to be, but you didn’t and was. You are a special kind of person to put your life in danger to entertain us. Thank all of you and “Welcome Home” and God Bless all of you.
Donut Dollys
i was in Nam in 1970 when one of your own was murded if i can get it on here it will be listed below.
i have a picture of her just couldnt get it on here
Death of a Donut Dollie – The Ginny Kirsch Murder
Tropic Lightning Academy – August 14, 1970
“A Bad Place To Be”
by: George F. Slook
Army, 4th Infantry Division, Pleiku & An Khe
© Copyright 02/29/2008
This is where it all began. The Tropic Lightning Academy was the entry point for all replacements to the 25th Infantry Division and its base camp at Cu Chi, Republic of Vietnam. New arrivals sat in bleacher seats and heard the somber words of seasoned veterans lecture on about what to expect. The Academy was situated within the confines of camp headquarters and had a view of the Donut Dollies billet. On this day, a sign was hung at the billet doorway that read “Welcome Virginia”, giving all assembled the name of someone they would like to meet. The orientation droned on! Everyone was anxious to meet Virginia. Finally, after hours of drilling details of division legend and lore, a petite young girl in a powder blue dress stepped to the front of the bleachers and was introduced by the Donut Dollie in-charge. “I would like you to meet our newest arrival – Miss Virginia Kirsch”. The new girl looked up at the assembled troops and simply said – “You can call me Ginny”.
Ginny
Virginia (Ginny) Kirsch was born on December 2, 1948 in Erie, PA. She had four sisters and two brothers in her family. Her father was a co-owner of a men’s clothing store. Her mother was a high school English teacher. Ginny graduated from Brookfield High School in 1966 and from Miami University of Ohio in 1970. For a brief period, she taught English and Religion at Badin Senior High School in Hamilton, Ohio. In July of 1970, Ginny attended Red Cross training classes in Washington D.C. and arrived in Viet Nam about two weeks later. After a brief period of orientation in Saigon, Ginny was ordered to report to the American Red Cross at Cu Chi.
Donut Dollie, Ginny Kirsch, 1970.
The Donut Dollies
Red Cross Donut Dollie, Susan Mc Lean
Donut Dollies were American Red Cross volunteers who had heard the nation’s call to serve their country at a time of war. They were young women with college degrees from all across America. At the request of the military, the Red Cross sent teams of young women to Vietnam to operate Red Cross Recreation Centers and to conduct audience-participation programs for men stationed in isolated sections of the country. Approximately 280 thousand servicemen took part in these recreation programs. The women traveled 27,000 miles by jeep, truck, airplane and helicopter each month. Red Cross officials estimate that, during the seven years the program was in operation, the women logged over two million miles.
A Bad Place To Be
The experience of Vietnam always began with the plane ride. Upon sight of the South China Sea and the coastline of Vietnam, all aboard became noticeably quiet. The wisecracks and bravado of the American GIs quickly subsided. In its place, soldiers came face-to-face with the stark reality that destiny now controlled their lives. The stewardesses, so playful and carefree early on, sat sullen in their landing seats and contemplated the soldiers’ fate. They had given their all to help these young men endure the ever-so-long flight. “They are in God’s hands now. Please protect them and bring them home safe and sound.”
There are two things that one remembers when the plane door opens. The first is the sledge hammer impact of stale, hot air on your face and skin. The open door instantly sucks all the cool air out of the cabin. The second sensation arrives the moment you step down the metal stairs to the runway. “What is that awful smell?” You are escorted with haste through a billowing black cloud to the awaiting transport. The sight you see is equal to the smell. A Vietnamese worker (or a disciplined GI) is hauling a burning oil drum across the tarmac. A nearby latrine has recently been relived of its human waste, doused with JP4 jet fuel, and set ablaze. The pungent odor that permeates the nostrils and lungs is unforgettable to this day. Even without the war, Vietnam would be a dangerous place. The country is rife with snakes, spiders, mosquitoes, rats, and leeches. Its weather is either monsoon rain or dust bowl dry. The American GI quickly realizes that he doesn’t belong there. Even a Donut Dollie, emboldened with patriotism, has to question what the future holds.
Field Operations – August 15, 1970
Back in Cu Chi on the following day, Ginny and another girl headed out by helicopter to a Special Forces camp at a fire base near Katum. It was located within a few miles of the Cambodian border. It was Ginny’s first opportunity to do what she was there to do. She clowned around with the troops, posed for photographs and movie pictures, and generally made everyone just love her. She was in her element. It was an exhausting visit, but certainly a memorable one.
On the return flight to camp, the helicopter pilot received orders to visit an infantry platoon of the 25th Infantry on Nui Ba Den, (i.e. Black Virgin Mountain). At first, the troopers wanted no part of the fun and games that the girls had come to deliver. When the platoon leader in charge told Ginny that his men were not interested, Ginny asked the lieutenant to “just let her try”. After a quick hello and glow from her, the men were hooked. They welcomed her warmly and played her silly little games.
On the flight back to camp, the helicopter pilot asked her out for a date. She was caught off-guard with the unexpected attention. She was there for duty and country, not dates. But she did not want to rock the boat in her first week, so she nodded okay. They agreed to meet at the officers’ club that night. Ginny wondered what this unanticipated attention would do to her mission there.
Back In the World
In 1970, the United States military in Vietnam reflected an ever-changing mixture of soldiers rotating in and out of country. With designated tours of 12 or 13 months, there were thousands of GIs on the move every day. You would see green troops arriving and brown troops departing each day of the year. For an American soldier, there was never a good day to arrive or a bad day to leave.
With the composition of the military in a continual state of flux, the problems of America at home were quickly reflected as problems for the military in Vietnam. Civilians with problems at home now became soldiers with problems at war. It should be no surprise that everything bad about America could be found in Vietnam.
Although the Vietnam War was in its late stages by 1970, the war machine continued to require fresh recruits to meet its operational requirements. The first troop withdrawals began in July of 1969, with an announced withdrawal of 40,000 expected by Christmas 1970. There were a number of factors that affected the quality of the new recruits. First and foremost would be the seismic shift in sentiment about the righteousness of the war. In the latter half of 1969, hundreds of thousands participated in antiwar demonstrations across the United States. The fateful culmination of national protest was the Kent Stateshootings on May 4, 1970. Ohio National Guardsmen fired on student protestors, killing four students and wounding nine others.
By the summer of 1970, there was little inclination for eligible military candidates to risk life and limb for what was, at best, a questionable cause. Inequities in the Selective Service System drove many of the best candidates to National Guard and Army Reserve enlistment. Many others fled to Canada. Some were coerced into enlistment by offers of favorable occupational specialties or training. All thoughts were to take whatever actions were necessary to avoid service in Vietnam. There were numerous reports of unethical recruiters offering enlistment deals that could not possibly be honored. Some recruits signed up for three-year Army enlistments in order to avoid jail time for petty crimes and misdemeanors. Others were promised occupational specialties for which they could not possibly qualify.
The US military in Vietnam was afflicted with all of the societal problems of America back home. Drug use in America had quickly evolved from recreational use to mainline addiction. Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin were premier performers at the Woodstock Festival in upstate New York in August of 1969. Marijuana and LSD were the refreshments of choice during those days. No one in attendance could have imagined that both Jimi and Janis would be dead of drug overdose by the end of the following year. Drug use, more than any other problem, had become a major destabilizing force to troop discipline and operational effectiveness in Vietnam.
Donut Dollies were not typical of the times. They were emboldened by Kennedy-era ideals about service to their country. They wanted to do something important. The Vietnam War was a noble cause fought by America’s noblest. What better place to make a difference in the world.
The Murder – August 16, 1970
The major was awakened with a shout. The enlisted man standing over him was frantic. “A Donut Dollie has been killed. An MP with a jeep will take you down to the morgue”.
The base camp was utter pandemonium. People were running. Lights were flashing. Sirens were blaring. Everything was moving much too fast. The girl’s name was Ginny. She had been in base camp only a day or two. How could this happen?
Official investigative reports of the homicide state that at approximately 3:50 AM, August 16 1970, an occupant of the American Red Cross billet observed a man run from the back door of Kirsch’s room. She entered Kirsch’s room and observed Kirsch on the floor with stab wounds to the throat, left side, left arm, and left finger. Kirsch was transported to the 25th Medical Battalion Dispensary and was pronounced dead from the stab wounds. She was not sexually molested. Kirsch’s remains were released to the 25th Infantry Division Graves Registration for medical examination.
There were two military policemen on duty at the time of the incident. One was on duty at a static post at the front gate to the billeting area. The other was on duty in the area and talking to the front gate guard when they observed a man force the rear gate of the billeting area open and escape. A US Army survival knife was found at the scene.
The witness at the scene described the fleeing subject as a male Caucasian, dark hair, 5’10”, 160 lbs., age approximately 23, wearing white t-shirt, white trousers, and a dark jacket.
The Suspects
Roger A. Christian
On November 4, 1970, Christian was administered a polygraph examination. He showed deception. He then verbally admitted to crime investigators that, on the morning of August 16, 1970, he was high on heroin and looking for a place to sleep. He walked into some billets, a dark room, and was surprised by the occupant. Christian said that he remembered stabbing a girl with a knife and left the room.
On November 9, 1970, Christian was charged with unpremeditated murder.
On January 17, 1971, the eye witness at the crime scene failed to identify Christian in a physical line-up at Ft. McPherson, Georgia.
On February 24, 1971, all charges were dismissed against Christian because of insufficient evidence and he was discharged from Army service.
Gregory W. Kozlowski
On the morning of August16, 1970, Kozlowski was found in possession of a tape recorder and camera which was stolen from the Red Cross billets between 1:00 – 3:50 AM that day. These items were the property of the witness at the crime scene who lived three doors from Ginny’s room. A few days later, Kozlowski became a murder suspect as well. On August 21, and again on August 25, Kozlowski was included in two line-ups. The eye witness failed to identify him in each of those lineups.
Shortly thereafter, Kozlowski was medically evacuated to Japan with a diagnosis of mental illness. While the Army’s investigation was in progress, Kozlowski was placed on convalescent leave in the United States. He was granted immunity by the Commanding General, 25th Infantry Division, with respect to the larceny offense in order to provide possible information regarding the homicide.
On October 21, 1970, Kozlowski shot himself. After initial medical treatment, he was transferred to Letterman Army General Hospital, at the Presidio, San Francisco. Because there was evidence of mental illness, his case was referred to a medical board for psychiatric evaluation.
On January 9, 1971, this board determined that Kozlowski was unable to adhere to right and wrong at the time of the murder and, further, that he was unable to cooperate intelligently in his own defense. Because the latter finding precluded trial until he was able to cooperate in his defense and because the former effectively precluded conviction, the charges were dismissed by the convening authority. Meanwhile, further Army investigation had implicated Gregory Kozlowski in the Kirsch murder. On January17, 1971, the eye witness identified Kozlowski in a pictorial line-up as the person she saw leaving Kirsch’s room the morning of the murder.
A different medical board was convened to determine whether Kozlowski was fit to remain on active duty. It determined that he was not, and he was therefore placed on the Temporary Disabled Retired List and his medical records were transferred to the Veterans hospital at Wood, Wisconsin, where Kozlowski was sent for further inpatient care. The charges against Kozlowski were not dismissed because of any lack of evidence but rather because of his mental incompetence, both at the time of the incident and at the time charges were preferred. In view of the findings of the medical evaluation board, it was concluded that there was little else the Army could do with respect to Gregory Kozlowski.
The Dodge County Sheriff
Edwin E. Nehls
On June 8, 1972, Gregory Kozlowski was arrested for the murder of Kenneth A. Glasse, 21 years old, of Milwaukee. On June 19, he was charged with first degree murder and detained in Dodge County Jail under the jurisdiction of Sheriff Nehls. Later that evening, Kozlowski asked to speak with the sheriff on a matter of utmost urgency. Kozlowski admitted to the sheriff that he was guilty of another crime of homicide, the slaying of a Red Cross girl in Cu Chi, South Vietnam, on August 16, 1970.
Immediately after Kozlowski made the admission on June 19, the sheriff contacted military sources in Washington, who confirmed that on August 16, 1970, a Red Cross girl by the name of Virginia Kirsch had been stabbed to death in her bedroom at Cu Chi. Military sources revealed to the sheriff that no one had been convicted of the murder. However, they said they had suspects and that Kozlowski was a suspect in the Virginia Kirsch case. The sheriff informed the authorities that he had documented information in the Kirsch case, made by Kozlowski.
On September 6, military officials advised Sheriff Nehls that were closing the case, as they were convinced that Kozlowski was responsible for the death.
On September 19, Sheriff Nehls called Max Kirsch, father of Virginia Kirsch, in Brookfield, Ohio, and relayed the information to him. According to Mr. Kirsch, he had not been contacted by any other authority about the latest developments. The sheriff told Mr. Kirsch that he had held this vital information for the past three months and felt he had an obligation to advise Virginia Kirsch’s parents.
As regards the first degree murder charge in the Glasse case, Kozlowski entered a plea of not guilty and not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect. He subsequently underwent several rounds of mental examination, the results of which indicated to the Court that Kozlowski was capable of standing trial on the murder charge. Kozlowski was ultimately found to be mentally ill. He has spent his entire adult life in mental health institutions within the State of Wisconsin.
After years of treatment and therapy, the psychiatric doctors deemed Kozlowski to no longer be a threat to either himself or others. On January 22, 2008, the Circuit Court granted Kozlowski a conditional release to a group home in Milwaukee. There has been no further information regarding his whereabouts since that date.
Tragedy or Travesty
Virginia (Ginny) Kirsch loved her country. Ginny was quoted by the American Red Cross in Saigon as having said “I felt that I could do something for the men over here and for my country.”
The wanton loss of human life is an unwelcome product of war. There are always unintended consequences of military conflict. For the most part, the military goes to extraordinary lengths to account for all such events. We are well aware of detailed investigations of alleged atrocities or friendly fire. So why is it that a 21-year old civilian woman can be brutally murdered at Division Headquarters, in a billet protected by armed guards, and no one is held accountable? It took two and a half months to identify one suspect while another suspect was permitted to leave the country shortly after the murder. Was the US Army in Vietnam in such disarray at that time that it just dropped the ball? Or was there more to it than that?
There is no indication that the American Red Cross pressed the Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV) to apprehend and prosecute Ginny’s killer. On the contrary, by all outward appearances, condolences were expressed, memorial services abroad and at home were held, and it was back to business as usual. If Ginny’s death had been an unfortunate accident, one could understand this response. But Ginny’s death was not an accident. It was murder! What was the organization’s responsibility to seek a full accounting of Ginny’s murder? How could this organization, in good conscience, continue to recruit, train, and send young women to Vietnam, knowing these women could not be adequately protected? What was their responsibility to the women who were already serving there?
George F. Slook, E-5
4th Infantry Division
Pleiku and An Khe
1969-1970
I knew Ginny From High School, I was in Shock to hear of her death. She was a sweetheart…
George,Thank You for your Post about Ginny.
We also called them ARC-angels
USMC Chulai 66-68
Phan rang DaNang, 70,71. Thank you so much for being there for us. You can’t even imagine how much it meant to us. I have tears of joy and remembering. I can’t thank you enough.
I found you via Ann Kelsey, a librarian who also served in Vietnam, and I have to admit, your poem got me right under the stacking swivel. Wish I’d met you. Mikerod, USMC 65-70, RVN 66-67, 1MarDiv, 0311.
I entered the army in October 1968 at Fort Ord, California. 7 weeks of basic training and then onto additional training for my military occupations. Then in early June 1969, I was in Saigon and by the end of the month, I was in Pleiku for my assignments.
Everything wasn’t what I had been prepared for, I had two thoughts. One was to do my job. The other was that I was in a war and should be in combat. I had both, just not the way I had thought of. My brief combat training only told me to be aware of the dangers in Nam. But not what you would think of as you are in combat or being bombed by sometimes both sides. So, I had requested to have a temporary assignment into a combat unit, at first, I was told no. But again, we had problems with both sides and the Air Force spraying us for bugs and things. And a year passed, I was given a three week drop, for which I sat out on a beach just waiting for an airplane out. That was a week later. I was in shock and didn’t know it. That took a long time to understand what had happened to me and the world. But I survived by staying busy and music helped, I kept a radio on as I slept I ended up staying for twenty, but in several occupations to make up for what I may not have done in combat in Vietnam. And those occupations could have gotten me killed, but that wasn’t to be. It’s been almost 48 years now and I like others have survived for whatever reasons.
The last movie that I had watched before leaving for Vietnam was “The Green Berets”. I still love that movie. It helped me understand some of the things over there.