ST. PAUL SUNDAY PIONEER PRESS, MAY 26, 1968

PEOPLE  CARE
ABOUT  TOMMY

Letters Bring Hope to Viet Victims' Mother

By Gareth Hiebert
Oliver Towne Columnist

THE DECAL is still on the front door of the little house at 1812 Munster Ave.

"My Son is a United States Marine"

Tommy  Kingston  lived  here.   He  still does,  in  a  way.  Because people cared about  what happened to him.   When I wrote about Tommy,  who was our carrier boy and neighbor,  last January, I wondered if it really mattered to anybody in the world beyond 1812 Munster Ave.

*    *    *
DID PEOPLE  care  that  a  handsome,  strapping,  happy,  smiling  lad  died in action  in a  place called  Vietnam?   On this week of  Memorial Day,  when  the nation  officially  pauses to  honor all the  Tommy Kingstons through American history, let me tell you people care.

They cared enough about Tommy Kingston to send his mother, Mrs. Vlovodale Kingston McLean,  hundreds of  letters  and  cards.   They  filled  the  "Visitor" books at  the  funeral  home  and  church  where  services  were held.   Scores of people who took time out on a busy weekend to honor a young man whom they had never known.

*    *    *
FOUR MONTHS  have passed.   Hardly a day goes by but what one more letter arrives.   From somebody in the city or the  United States  who cares.   Who are they and what do they say?

Because  Tommy's  commanding  officer  cared,  Mrs. Kingston McLean knows that her son was mortally wounded in action on the night of last Jan. 21 during an enemy attack and that, despite quick first aid, died at 9:10 p.m. that evening, but not before he had been given the last rites of the church of his faith.

Because the commanding general of the 3rd Marine Division cared, he sat down and  wrote,  from  his heart,  "There  is nothing  I can say  that in  any way  will lighten  your anguish  over  the loss of your dear son.   Words  are feeble things at best and, at a time like this quite useless . . . . But we, his comrades, are in his debt forever."

President Lyndon Johnson  may  write  the  same message  to the parents  of all those who die in Vietnam, but Tommy's mother believes,  and I do, having read it, that Mr. Johnson  personally signed  the note which said,  "Dear Mrs. Kings- ton,  I  was  deeply  distressed  to  learn  of  the  death  of your  son, Lance Cpl. Thomas L. Kingston . . . . Calling on young Americans to  suffer great pain and even  loss of life in Vietnam  is the most agonizing and  painful responsibility of my office."

*    *    *
GOV. LeVANDER  took time to say,  "Having grown up in a close  knit family, and having raised a family of three myself, I sincerely appreciate the investment of  joy and  sorrow,   of  hopes and  dreams  that  went  into  raising  your  son, Thomas.   I share with you a fervent desire for  an end in man's hostilities to his fellow man in Vietnam and throughout the world."

If  there is a  theme to  the letters  and cards  neatly  filed  in a  big box at  1812 Munster Ave.,  it is what  Gov. LeVander wrote.   Parents of other sons killed in Vietnam sent letters.  And said these words.  Retired soldiers and Marines, living in Minnesota, expressed that hope.

*    *    *
"IT IS HARD  to find any excuse for the sacrifice of a young life,  but let's hope that it will  stir all of us to work  harder for a time  when we will cease using our young to fight our battles for us and learn to live in peace." wrote one woman.

There was the simple understanding expresses in a card from Blue Earth, Minn., "Our only son and brother . . . . was killed in Vietnam . . . . We understand and really know how you feel.  

"We have been thinking of you.  Our son . . . was killed in Vietnam on Oct. 14.  He, too, was a Marine." read yet another card.

There  were  many  letters that began,  "You don't know  me and  I don't  know you, but . . . . I have been thinking of you so much and will continue to do so in the days ahead."

*    *    *
THE PEOPLE  who responded came from every district in the city and country. They live in  wealthy areas,  modest neighborhoods,  farms and shady  streets in small  town Minnesota.   Threading  through at least  two dozen letters were the thoughts,  "There,  but for the grace of God,  is my son!"   And  the  anguish in those missives literally leaps out at the reader.

"You  asked a question:  Do people care?"  said one of  Tommy's uncles.  "And you pricked American conscience.  And what is in these  files is an expression of that conscience as much as anything."

*    *    *
TOMMY'S MOTHER  looks at  it  in another  way.   "On the  night last January when the men came to the door  with the telegram,  I felt alone in the world.  Now I know that I am surrounded by compassion . . . . as if the whole world were looking over my shoulder."

There were memorials for Tommy too.   Someone cared so much about Tommy and  his comrades  that he sent  5,000 green  scapulars from  the  Shrine of  Our Lady of  the  Immaculate  Heart to Tommy's outfit,  the  26th Marines,  at  Khe Sanh.  They are being worn today by Marines.  And they are also a living shrine to Thomas Kingston.

I  closed  the door  of the  house at  1812 Munster Ave.,  the  home of a  United States Marine,  and a question someone asked  in one of the letters kept repeat- ing itself,  "When will the world care enough for men like  Tommy Kingston  so that it will no longer be necessary to write these letters?"
 

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