Below is the story of my grandmother and her quest to have her son awarded the Medal of Honor. She succeeded and because of this generous and amazing woman our family got to travel to Washington D.C., meet the President of the United States, and attend numerous ceremonies and receptions honoring her sons sacrifice and recognizing his bravery. I want to share that journey while documenting my families travels to the nations capitol, including the food served at the White House, of course, this is a food blog after all...but mainly I would like to share this journey and honor our matriarch, Evelyn Sloat.
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I knew her son, my uncle Don Sloat, had died in the Vietnam War long before I was born. He was kind of famous in Coweta since it has the dubious distinction of having the most casualties per capita, 8 men in total, my Uncle Don being one of them. And it was this war that made my father a refugee who fled his home in South Vietnam at age 19 to come to America. My mother talks about how it was hard for my grandmother to meet my dad and accepting their relationship didn't come easy.
But Evelyn would fight a lot of battles through her life and finding forgiveness and letting go of bitterness is what got her through. She was a woman of God and she wasn't afraid to tell you so. It would take a better writer and a lot more time to adequately describe this woman's tremendous and tumultuous life so this post is dedicated to one of her last battles she fought so hard to win: getting her son recognized posthumously for the Medal of Honor.
She reached out to the media, congressmen, senators and personally reached out to every living member of Don's platoon trying to get documentation gathered for a case to take to the President. It became a family battle with both her daughters and a son-in-law also taking action, mostly because my grandmother wouldn't let them rest until they did. She even handed me a manila envelope filled with articles and a notarized statement from a solider in Don's platoon documenting his memory of that day. I had mentioned I had a friend in Seattle who worked for MSN and she latched onto the idea that my friend could get the story some national attention; alas he only picked out stock photos for internet articles, but her tenacity was noted.
In 2011, my husband and I went to Vietnam to explore the land where my father came from and to see the land where Don spent his last days. I promised my grandmother I would try and find Hawk Hill, the military base where Don was stationed. She had found an article that said Don had a room dedicated to him with a plaque to commemorate it. I doubted we would find the building still standing, but through military veterans websites and military documents online we had a rough idea of where Hawk Hill was suppose to be and the directions seemed to pan out, eight miles south of Thang Binh and seven miles north of Tam Ky just east of the railroad, we found what could certainly have been a military base at some point.
We never did find a plaque but I brought my grandmother back a brick from a dilapidated roof, a tenuious connection to her son if there ever was one, but it was all that I could offer.
Losing a child isn't easy and Don would be her second son to bury. Donald Paul Sloat joined the Army in 1969 at age 20 and not even a year later was killed in action. It wasn't until 40 years later that my grandmother learned the truth about his death, that the military mistakenly simplified the incident, saying only that he was killed by shrapnel from a land mine. She then went on a quest that nobody could derail her from. A mother's love is what got Don the recognition he deserved.
Here is what really happened:
On the morning of Jan. 17, 1970, Sloat's squad was conducting a
patrol, serving as a blocking element in support of tanks and armored
personnel carriers from F Troop in the Que Son valley. As the squad
moved through dense up a small hill in file formation, the lead Soldier
tripped a wire attached to a hand grenade booby-trap, set up by enemy
forces.
When the grenade rolled down the hill toward Sloat, he had a
choice. He could hit the ground and seek cover, or pick up the grenade
and throw it away from his fellow Soldiers. After initially attempting
to throw the grenade, Sloat realized that detonation was imminent, and
that two or three men near him would be killed or seriously injured if
he couldn't shield them from the blast. In an instant, Sloat chose to
draw the grenade to his body, shielding his squad members from the
blast, and saving their lives.
Sloat's actions define the ultimate sacrifice of laying down his own life in order to save the lives of his comrades.
You can see why she fought so hard to see him recognized for his bravery. Unfortunately things didn't move quickly enough for her, patience was not one of her virtues. She died almost 3 years ago, too soon to see her hard work paid off. When the family got the news that the President had signed the paperwork making it official- we couldn't wait to pack our bags.
On September 15 we headed to the White House.
Being a fan of the President I could not have been more excited... He even stopped to have a conversation with me before the ceremony!
Okay, maybe not. But I was still in the same room with him and for this small town girl from Coweta, Oklahoma it was a big deal.
After the ceremony we were treated to hors d'oeuvres and wine.
The other highlights of the trip was our expedition into the bowels of the Pentagon where Chuck Hagel and other top military officials gave heartfelt speeches that honored both Medal of Honor families. My mom and aunt got a tour of the Pentagon and were served a dinner that put the White House finger foods to shame, I'm told. Many Vietnam Veterans who fought with Don attended the ceremonies and were eager to tell their stories of Don and their experiences of Vietnam in general. Needless to say many of these stories were touching and raw; one story that has stayed with me came from a man named Roger Sherrard who was in Don's platoon. He said the hardest part was coming home from a war fighting for a cause that nobody at home supported. He felt like a criminal. Everyone was crying by this time, and even though most of us were too young or didn't exist at the time we all felt it was a shame for our soldiers to come home to protests and angry political opinions when they just came back from hell. I know that today the tides have changed and these men are all heroes and we are thankful for them and their service.
The rest of our sightseeing trip was exactly what was missing from my travel experiences.
I have a new found respect for our military personnel and for the intricate but often maligned Congress; it was all amazing to see up close. We all know someone who has signed up for service and I want to say thank you to all the men and women who serve our country. I thank my grandmother who raised a son who is nationally recognized as a hero and for my family, who is just crazy enough for me to handle.
We miss you, Granny.
