News-Info-Alerts

Re: Changing the Star from Blue to Gold

From: POW-MIA InterNetwork

Date: April 20, 2003

"Mothers embrace new sisters in grief

Gold Star fellowship somberly reaching out to mothers of troops killed in war with Iraq.
 
By Shannon Tan
shannon.tan@indystar.com
 
They are members of a forgotten group they never wanted to join, an organization unified by loss and tears and memories stronger than time.
Now those memories have returned, as the war against Iraq ensures a new wave of women will qualify for membership in the American Gold Star Mothers.

Only mothers who have lost a child in military service can join the group -- mothers who know what it means to have a blue star turned to gold.

At their annual meeting May 16 in Roanoke, several members will discuss how to reach out to the four Indiana mothers whose sons died in March and April.

Leslie Sanders is one of those women. She is the mother of U.S. Army Spc. Greg Sanders, 19, a soldier from Hobart killed by a sniper in Iraq on March 24.

Although she couldn't be reached this week, her family said she'd be interested in hearing from the Gold Star Mothers.

As many as 22,000 women once belonged to the national group, which took its name from the World War I tradition of displaying banners with a blue star for family serving in the military. A gold star replaced the blue one if a person was killed.

But after decades of peace and the loss of older members, enrollment has dwindled to about 1,200, including a dozen Hoosier mothers.

Their thoughts on the war may shift from day to day, but one thing they do know: how it feels to lose a child.

"At that time, it seems like nothing is worth it," said Sheila Settimi, 64. Her 25-year-old son, Jeff, was one of 21 servicemen killed during the buildup to the Persian Gulf War when their ferry capsized as they returned to the aircraft carrier Saratoga near Haifa, Israel.

As the Hamilton woman watched the tragedy unfold on television on Dec. 22, 1990, she knew Jeff was dead.

At 6 o'clock the next day, she heard the knock on her door and the dreaded words, "We regret to inform you . . ." It was a cold, miserable, icy morning.
"I think of Jeff every day. As soon as I wake up in the morning, I cry over him," she said. "I don't need any reminders; I'm reminded every day. It's a heartache that will never go away."

Settimi attended a memorial in Washington, D.C., shortly after her son's death and found out about Gold Star Mothers. She found comfort and pride in being a member.

The national organization was formed in 1929 so that daughters and sons would be remembered. In Indiana, members volunteer in veterans hospitals, while others attend parades and visit memorials. The group does not, however, enter into politics.

"That's one thing I hoped for -- that there would be no such thing as a Gold Star Mother," said Joanna Seifert, 87, whose only son, Merlin Marquardt, 19, was shot off the back of a tank in Vietnam in 1965.

Seifert, of Fort Wayne, worked in retail then and went to her first Gold Star meeting in 1968 during her lunch hour.

"I was sent a letter by one of the members, and I didn't join right away," she said. "I just wasn't ready to admit it, I guess."

A pain that stays

Lately, she has been clipping articles on Hoosier mothers who've lost children in the war against Iraq. When the time comes, she will probably send them a letter and application or invite them to meetings.

"When I hear of another death, I sit here and cry," said Virginia Graft, 76, Roanoke, whose oldest son, 19-year-old Terry Gene, was killed by a rocket in Vietnam in 1969. "You'd think after 30-some years you'd get used to it, but you never get used to it."

Seifert met Graft at a veterans banquet and talked her into joining.
It was Father's Day in 1970 when Joan Smith's daughter called her at the Monroeville factory where she worked. Two soldiers were at the house, she said to her mother. She told them where to find her.

A land mine had exploded, the officers said, blowing up the jeep her son Stephen was riding in. He was 22.

Now 78, Smith still cries when she talks about him. When she can't bear watching another explosion on TV, she switches to cartoons.

"It makes me sick when there are so many young guys who are over there," said Smith, who lives in Convoy, Ohio. "I can't support the war. I support the troops."

Two weeks after her son's death, he was buried at a church cemetery in Fort Wayne.

Changing flags

Most Sundays, Smith swings by after church to say hello. She changes the flag on Stephen's grave when it wears out.

There is no grave for Pauline Yeakley to visit. She never got her son back.

The South Bend woman thinks about going to Vietnam to find the ravine that became Robin's final resting place after his helicopter was shot down in June 1972. All she got was a piece of paper. Missing in action, it said, and presumed dead.

A month later, the letters she sent to her son were returned, unopened.

The corner cupboard in her living room is filled with memories of Robin: his baby shoes made into bookends, high school graduation ring, diploma, Bible and the name plate he wore to work at Bethlehem Steel in Portage. She has his Army hat, the letters he wrote telling her how hot it was in Vietnam and the papers telling her the 22-year-old was about to end his tour and come home.

Yeakley, 80, whose husband was a World War II vet, volunteers at a veterans hospital. Last year, she donned a black leather vest and rode on the back of a Harley as part of the Rolling Thunder veterans group in the Memorial Day Parade in Washington, D.C.

"It brings back a lot of old memories with this going on today," she said. "I am proud he was willing to fight for our country and our freedom."

Loss not in vain
Christine Jensen of Lawrence, whose son was killed in 1991 when an Iraqi Scud missile exploded in his Army barracks, says she can't bring Brian Simpson back, but she can help other mothers who've lost their children.

"They're always in our prayers," she said of the mothers of those lost in Iraq. "(Their sons) didn't die in vain, as long as people remember."

Call Star reporter Shannon Tan at 1-317-444-6491.

Copyright 2003 IndyStar.com. "