Pan Am Flight Attendants Say Vietnam Duty was their Most Formative

by Stella Kapetan

Lynn Turner still remembers watching the soldiers, mostly teenagers, walk off the airplane in Vietnam to start their tour of duty in 1967. “My thoughts were always, ‘I hope you come home safely,’ knowing not all of them would,” Turner recently said from her Crystal Lake home.

Turner, now 78, was a stewardess, as flight attendants were called in March 1964 when she was 21 and joined Pan American World Airways, the now-defunct carrier that flew exclusively international routes. “It was one way to see the world,” she said of the career she had dreamed of since she was 12 when she and her father, who worked for Pan Am, would watch planes take off and land at the airport near their home in Dutch Guiana, now called Suriname, in South America.

She and the other attendants made it a point to make the soldiers feel comfortable. “We tried to talk to them as much as possible,” Turner said. “Going to Vietnam, some wanted to talk all the time, about where they were from, and [they] wanted to know where we were from. I would tell them where (Dutch Guiana) was, and they always wanted to know more about the country and how my family got there.” She never asked about their feelings about going to war, to keep their minds off what lie ahead. Instead, she asked if they had siblings and about other innocuous subjects. “They were grateful because they didn’t know what to expect.” She received no training on interacting with them and relied on instinct.

Turner also served aboard R&R (rest and recreation) flights that flew soldiers to Hawaii, Australia, Japan and other countries for a few days away from the fighting. “They were so tired but relieved to get on an airplane and get out of Vietnam,” she said. “Many times, they came straight out of the jungle. Some were smiling and so happy to see us. They said thank you every time you handed them something. We were so happy to make them feel comfortable. All it took was a smile that changed the expression on their faces. We smiled a lot.”

She said the return flights to Vietnam after R&R were difficult. The soldiers looked distressed and said they wished they were going home instead of back to the war. “There were no words to console them.” Turner said. “I remember saying ‘I understand.’ I remember one conversation telling one of the soldiers how difficult it must be, but that I was looking forward to the opportunity of seeing them again and that it would be on their flight going home.’”

Serving on these flights was voluntary since they operated in a war zone, and crews faced real danger. Takeoffs and landings were vertical to avoid the Viet Cong, who were within shooting distance. Turner volunteered, since there was a shortage of stewardesses willing to fly to Vietnam. And she said the flights gave her a purpose and a chance to “experience another side of the glamour of flying.”

The danger didn’t deter Ruth Lowenstein, now 78, from volunteering. “I did not have a fear of going to Vietnam,” said the Gold Coast resident, who is a native of Terre Haute, Indiana. “I had an adventurous spirit.”

Besides, Lowenstein had seen other R&R flights return safely, and pre-flight briefings assured crews that they would be protected. Her adventurous spirit was born when she was 8 and flew by herself to Utah to visit her grandparents. The kindness and attention from her own private attendant gave her a “wonderful feeling,” she said. “I decided if I did that, I’d have that feeling all my life.”

Ruth Lowenstein at Tan Son Nhut Air Base (now Tan Son Nhat International Airport) in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon). NOTE: The spelling was Nh​ut during the war, Nhat today.

Ruth Lowenstein outside her Miami, Florida apartment.

US soldiers boarding DC-68 during the war.

(Pan Am Historical Foundation photo)

Lowenstein said some soldiers preferred to sleep, and others didn’t want to talk much. She would gauge whether they were looking to converse by reading their body language; if they came back to where the attendants were working and didn’t immediately return to their seat she would ask if they were alright. If they wanted to talk, she would ask if it was their first R&R and what they did. And about home and if they had a girlfriend. “They wanted to show you a picture,” she said. “They would say ‘I’ve got this girl. Let me show you this picture.’ I would say, 'You are a lucky guy.’”

She said Pan Am instructed attendants on avoiding upsetting the soldiers. “If you asked someone if they wanted to eat, and they said no, just let them be,” Lowenstein said. “Don’t say ‘Why not?’ or ‘Our food is great.’” She said some soldiers might have been too fragile to handle the questions. “They might internalize it and think there is something wrong with them because someone is questioning them. Pan Am wanted them to be comfortable and to know that they were looking out for them.”

A career as a Pan Am stewardess was coveted by young women, who like Lowenstein, dreamt of a career seeing the world at a time when opportunities for women were limited. Pan Am exuded glamour and stewardesses were expected to do the same, according to You Magazine. Strict hiring requirements included ability to speak a foreign language, height between 5 foot 3 inches and 5 foot 9 inches tall, clear skin and a slim figure. Only 3% - 5% of applicants were hired. Their employment was terminated at age 35, if they gained too much weight, or married. The skills they learned in the six-week training course ranged from the proper way to carve a lamb, to effectively dealing with hijackers by becoming a “neutral friend” and persuading them to ask to land the plane.

Lowenstein said she "grew up" after she started working for Pan Am. “I became more worldly, more street smart, more sophisticated. I learned resourcefulness, how to make things happen with what's available. I learned a lot about the Vietnam War I wouldn't have without having worked the R&R charters. I appreciated the men who had to fight there. I became a better listener. I became good at hiding my emotions. I became good at staying calm under pressure.”

Turner left the airlines after she married Bill, a Navy navigator and flight engineer she met on a layover in Guam. They raised two daughters: Karen, a veterinarian; and Michelle, a pilot for American Airlines. She said she still sometimes thinks about the soldiers she met 55 years ago: “We were such a small part of their lives. We never saw them again. The little bit of contact they had with us meant a lot to them at that time. We were all there trying to treat them as human beings and have them be comfortable. We knew what was happening, and we wanted them to be comfortable before going into the unknown. It is a part of my life that I will always treasure and remember.”

Lynn Turner as an attendant

Lynn today

Ruth Lowenstein as an attendant

Ruth today