"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?"