Iraq

A group no mother ever hopes to join

United by the pain of losing a child in service, American Gold Star Mothers finds its membership on the rise after decades of relative peace.

	[Times photo: Scott Keeler]
	Herminda Wykoff, 82, of Pinellas Park holds a photograph of her son Roy Page, killed less than a month after going to Vietnam.
	Linda Siedle sits near the Gold Star banner in her Palm Harbor home. Her son Army Sgt. James L. Siedle, 26, was killed in 2002. [Times photo: Carrie Pratt]

The pain is deep in the pit of her stomach. She's on her knees, sobbing. Please, God, don't let this be true.

Her son, Marine Sgt. Brian McGinnis, 23, has been killed in a helicopter crash in Iraq.

This is a pain only a mother can know.

Days pass. Millie Williams of Port Charlotte can't eat or sleep. Pills help, but the tears start when she wakes up. She makes it through his funeral by believing it isn't her Brian lying inside the closed casket.

Phone calls, cards and flowers keep coming. Newspaper and TV reporters clamor to put a face on the latest soldier killed in Iraq. Her son's death is news, but do they know that part of her heart has just been ripped out?

She hears about a group called the American Gold Star Mothers, a sisterhood of women who have lost sons and daughters in military service. She finds comfort talking to a Gold Star Mother in Virginia whose son died in the same helicopter crash March 30, 2003.

"The pain is the same," said Williams, 47. "One minute you're angry. The next day you're in denial. The next day you're proud."

Decades of relative peace and the loss of older members have dwindled the group's membership from 22,000 to about 1,200, including 50 mothers in Florida. The war in Iraq, however, has ensured that a new wave of women qualify for membership in the group.

Williams sends cards to mothers who have also lost their children in the war in Iraq. She includes her phone number, in case they need to talk. She hopes they can set up a trust fund for those who do return.

"We cannot let (Brian) die in vain," she says. "He wanted to make a difference. I believe he did."

American Gold Star Mothers was founded by a woman whose son flew planes during World War I. His belongings were mailed to her in 1918 with no news of his fate, so Grace Darling Siebold volunteered in hospitals, hoping to find him among the wounded.

After receiving word that George had been killed, Siebold reached out to other mothers for comfort. The organization took its name from the gold star that families hung in their windows to honor soldiers killed in service.

After each death, the Department of Defense sends a Gold Star Mother pin. To join the organization, mothers fill out an application and pay $10 to $12 a year in dues.

Today, Gold Star Mothers attend parades and participate in memorial services to keep their sons' and daughters' memories alive. Last year, they volunteered for more than 22,000 hours in veterans facilities across the country.

"We don't want anyone to have to join," said Barbara Calfee, 77, president of the Florida branch of the group. "It's a heavy price to pay."

Two years have passed, and family and friends no longer mention his name.

They don't want to upset Linda Siedle. But when people stop talking about Jimmy, that's when it hurts.

She listens to talk shows on the radio because music makes her cry. At night, she watches TV until she falls asleep in her recliner.

Sundays are hard. Today is the worst. Jimmy always called on Mother's Day. This is your No.1 son, he'd say.

They had their own way of talking without words. Somehow, each one knew what the other was thinking.

Once, he asked about service banners. The white banner with the blue star in the middle represents a family member serving in the military. If the person is killed, the blue star is replaced with a gold one.

"I have two Blue Star banners," she told him. "Don't win me the Gold Star."

Jimmy laughed.

Army Sgt. James L. Siedle, 26, an international military police officer, had been serving in the Netherlands. He planned on coming home to surprise his dad for his 60th birthday. But on Feb. 27, 2002, he was shot and killed while on active duty.

His mother says the military has not told her how he died. It's agonizing not knowing the details. She dusts his flag box every day, but there is no closure. She can't bear to visit his grave.

"I don't want to accept that he's not coming home," says Siedle. "I like being in denial. I still think it was a horrible mistake. I want to think that."

The day he was killed, she closed on a home in Palm Harbor. Her husband, a former Navy submarine sailor, was in Mississippi trying to sell their old house. He got the phone call and drove to tell her. Suddenly, she hated their new home, the one that held no memories of her son.

It took a year and a half before Siedle was ready to join Gold Star Mothers. Now, her license plate says GSTAR, and she wears her Gold Star Mothers pin every day. Like many other members, she volunteers at a veterans hospital.

When Siedle talks to the veterans at Bay Pines VA Medical Center, she feels connected to Jimmy. Other people tell her she should have known that her son might be killed or that it was an honor for him to die for his country. It's hard being sad when she's supposed to be stoic.

Once, after they had watched the movie Saving Private Ryan, Jimmy pointed out to her that dying soldiers always called out for their mothers. If that happens to you, she said, I'd be okay. Because you're doing what you wanted to do.

"You know they're going into harm's way," says Siedle, whose other son, Thomas, 24, is a petty officer second class in the Navy. "But you never think it's going to be your child."

The other Gold Star Mothers have been supportive, says Siedle,53. But many are nearly a lifetime ahead of her in their grief.

The boys in her Connecticut neighborhood couldn't wait to fight in World War II.

Soon, it seemed as if every home had a Blue Star banner hanging in the window. Grace Trushaw's home had a banner with two Blue Stars in the window - one for each of her brothers serving in the war.

Then, one of the stars turned to gold. Army Air Forces Lt. James McGowan, 20, was killed in 1944 when his plane went down in New Guinea. Trushaw, of St. Petersburg, later named her son after him.

James E. Trushaw, who collected snakes as a boy, couldn't wait to join the Marines. While the 19-year-old was in Vietnam, Trushaw kept a diary.

Reading her brief entries now brings back memories of heartbreak and bitterness.

Sept. 26, 1967: Sent 3 pkg to Jim - #120-121-122. Later, she added, "THE LAST ONES!!!"

"I'd send him two or three packages every week. Clean white socks. Small cans of fruit. I would send him popular music here on the radio. He'd tape over them and talk to us with his buddies and whatnot."

Sept. 28: Notified of Jim's death (Sept. 21)

"I was sitting at the kitchen table with a scrapbook. I'd saved newspapers and magazines about Vietnam. I thought, "He's going to be showing this to his sons and grandsons,' and a car pulled up. I could see "U.S. Ma-' and I knew right away what it was. I knocked the chair over, I got up so fast. I said, "Please, God, please, he's just hurt.' But no. He was killed by rifle fire and mortar fire."

Oct. 18: Notified that Jim's body has been recovered.

"We never got his dog tag. I thought about going to Vietnam when vets were finding dog tags. I thought I'd like to find Jimmy's dog tag."

Oct. 25: Mass at Arlington chapel. 10:45 a.m. - Burial down hill from Pres. Kennedy's grave.

"They told me they played taps. I never heard it. You can't think straight after something like that. He wanted to be buried in Arlington. His dad (Marine Cpl. Charles E. Trushaw) is there with him - he passed away in September 1994. I'll be buried in the same plot, too."

Oct. 26: Emotionally drained - very tired.

"It just sometimes seems like yesterday," says Trushaw, now 78.

It has been more than 30 years, but when she reads about how many soldiers have been killed in Iraq, she cries.

"I don't have any grandchildren," she says, "and I'm glad now because this is such an awful world."

Her daughters tell her to stop reading the paper or watching the news. But she can't.

"Telling me that is like telling me to stop eating," she says.

Herminda Wykoff's son had been in Vietnam for 19 days when the newspaper on her front lawn portended death.

She tried reading the Metro-East St. Louis Journal three times, but kept getting distracted. Maybe Roy Page wasn't part of the unit ambushed in Chu Chi on March2, 1968, she told herself.

She started a letter to Roy, 20. That day, a dentist had pulled her daughter's teeth for free. "Now I just must tell you about our good fortunes this morning," she wrote.

About 2 p.m., there was a knock on the door. The hot air from the furnace blew a curtain aside, and she saw the Army uniform. Roy had been fatally wounded, the officer said.

After he left, Wykoff thought, I'm a Gold Star Mother now.

Many mothers were bitter about the Vietnam War, said Wykoff, 82, of Pinellas Park. That's why it took them a while to join the group.

When she attended the group's national meeting 20 years ago, there were more than 120 mothers. Last year, only 35 showed up.

She volunteers at Bay Pines, but age is slowing her down. "It's hard for us to be really active," she says.

In September, Millie Williams attended the Gold Star Mother's Day ceremony in Washington, D.C. Most of the mothers she met were in their 80s.

"Their first reaction when they saw me walk in is, "She is so young,"' she recalls.

"And then they remembered, they were, too."

- Shannon Tan can be reached at shtan@sptimes.com or 727 445-4174.

1918: President Woodrow Wilson approves a suggestion that American women wear a black band on the left arm with a gilt star on the band for each member of the family who died in World War I. A blue star on a service flag signified the living, and a smaller gold star was placed on top of the blue star if a family member was killed.

1929: American Gold Star Mothers organization is incorporated. Mothers whose sons and daughters died in the line of duty, or as a result of injuries sustained in military service, are eligible for membership.

1936: The last Sunday of September is designated Gold Star Mother's Day.

- Source: www.goldstarmoms.com

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