The Women Who Created a National Obsession with Out Captive and Missing Men

By Taylor Baldwin Kiland and Judy Silverstein Gray

Fifty years ago this month, the first contingent of American POWs from the Vietnam War stepped onto the tarmac at Clark Air Base in the Philippines where a cheering crowd of more than 1,000 people enthusiastically waved miniature American flags. Back in the United States, Americans watched the live television coverage in the middle of the night. Gaunt and pale with hollowed faces, the returning POWs smiled broadly, relishing their first whiff of freedom. Some 591 prisoners-of-war, held up to nine years in captivity in Vietnam, were—and still are—the longest-held group of POWs in our nation’s history. Many called Coronado home, including Jim Stockdale, Ed Martin, Harry Jenkins, Mel Moore, and Bill Stark. While island residents busied themselves preparing to celebrate the homecoming of its heroes, the return of these men was also cause for celebration across our nation—especially after the divisive and protracted war in Vietnam. Indeed, the fate of these 591 captives—a tiny fraction of the 58,000 casualties of the Vietnam War—had become a national obsession. More than five million iconic POW and MIA bracelets were sold to Americans in a show of solidarity and support. Their safe return became a central negotiating point at the Paris Peace talks. President Nixon assured the American people in 1972: “Can [the president] withdraw all of our forces as long as the enemy holds one American as a prisoner of war? The answer is no.”

How did these POWs—and the 2,500 men missing in action—become a presidential priority? Why did their fate upstage those fighting and dying on the frontlines?

Capt. Harry T. Jenkins, Capt. Howard Rutledge, and Capt. Jim Stockdale en route to a press conference following their return to the US after being held in Vietnam - Feb. 1973. Courtesy of the Coronado Historical Association and the Stockdale Family.

It can all be traced back to the women who loved them, who fought their own epic home front battle. This small group of military wives did what few women in that era could. Bucking tradition, they became accidental activists during one of the most tumultuous times in our nation’s history. While women could not secure a credit card, bank account or mortgage without a husband’s signature, they could plead their case for an accounting of POWs and MIAs. Amidst the din and confusion of the Vietnam War, the antiwar movement, civil rights marches, and the Watergate scandal, Coronado women like Pat Mearns, Sybil Stockdale, Sherry Martin, Shirley Stark, Marge Jenkins, and Chloe Moore galvanized a president and a nation around the plight of their missing and captive men.

Unintentionally, this cadre of wives made the POWs and MIAs so valuable that getting them home became the only victory left for our nation during the divisive war. Every war produces prisoners. But only since the Vietnam War have prisoners become precious political hostages, so invaluable that preventing them in future wars has become a strategic imperative. This is not solely for humanitarian reasons, but to avoid having to make compromises to get them home. The United States will still tolerate casualties but not missing men or POWs. It is no accident that America ended its longest war, in Afghanistan, without a single POW or missing man. We say that we hold sacred the mantra “leave no man behind,” but that has not always been the case. Every other war in our nation’s history produced thousands of unrecovered men: more than 81,000 in World War II and more than 6,400 in the Korean War. Only since the Vietnam War have we spent hundreds of millions of dollars every year combing the globe for missing men from all our wars. Only since the Vietnam War have we hoisted the black and white POW/MIA flag above the White House, the Capitol, and each post office in the United States to remind us of our sacred promise to find every missing man—dead or alive.

Credit for our national dedication to our missing and captive men belongs to this small group of military wives who took diplomatic matters into their own hands. They succeeded in persuading a U.S. president, Congress, the State Department, and the Pentagon to follow their lead. Galvanizing public support for their cause, they created a national obsession with the POWs and

MIAs. As a result, America was as captivated by the 1973 return of the POWs as were their families.

Beginning this March, you can learn more about the local POW history in Coronado at the Coronado Historical Association’s newest exhibit Open Doors: Vietnam POWs Fifty Years of Freedom. CHA will honor the 50th Anniversary of the return of the Vietnam POWs this year with a special exhibition of a still photo documentary of 30 former POWs from all branches of the military produced by writer Taylor Baldwin Kiland and photographer Jamie Howren. These intimate photographs capture the subjects’ personalities with visual images and written profiles that add verbal color, context, and quotes.

Open Doors is a tribute to Vietnam prisoners of war and their individual determination in seeking personal and professional happiness upon their release. A testament to the strength of the human spirit and the power of human will, it is also a celebration of freedom. As Cdr. Paul Galanti, USN (Ret.) and former Vietnam POW said, “There’s no such thing as a bad day when you have a doorknob on the inside of the door,” referencing the door in his cell during his time in captivity in Vietnam.

Capt. Stockdale, Mrs.Stockdale, and Pres.Richard Nixon at a party hosted by Nixon to honor the Vietnam POWS - May 1973. Courtesy of the Coronado Historical Association and the Stockdale Family.

About the Authors: Taylor Baldwin Kiland and Judy Silverstein Gray, both military veterans, are the coauthors of Unwavering: The Wives Who Fought to Ensure No Man is Left Behind. Kiland is also the coauthor of Open Doors: Vietnam POWs Thirty Years Later and Lessons from the Hanoi Hilton: Six Characteristics of High-Performance Teams.