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Visions of War, Dreams of Peace
- University of Iowa Press
- Chapter
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In 1991, a collection of poems titled Visions of War, Dreams of Peace: Writings of Women in the Vietnam War was published by Warner Books. This poetry was written by women who had served in Vietnam, most of them as battlefield nurses. In a foreword to the book, W. D. Ehrhart (an editor himself of two acclaimed collections of poetry by Vietnam War veterans) praises Lynda Van Devanter and Joan A. Furey for their persistence in assembling women veterans’ voices: When Lynda Van Devanter first told me about this book in July 1990, just about the first thing I said to her was: “I wanted these poems. I tried to find them for Carrying the Darkness. Why didn’t anyone send me anything?” “Of course they wouldn’t send you their poems,” she replied. “You’re a man.” “But I’m not that sort of a man,” I protested, wounded by her reply. “Yes, but they don’t know that.” What they [the women vets] know . . . is that the U.S. government, to this day, can’t even say how many of them actually served in Vietnam. What they know is that the Vietnam Women’s Memorial Project has met with stiff resistance from people—men—who keep insisting that The Wall and the three male figures cast in bronze beside it is recognition enough for women. Small wonder that these women wouldn’t send me their poems. Thank God or whatever you believe in that they’ve been willing to send them to Lynda Van Devanter and Joan Furey. . . . These are voices that need to be heard. These are voices we need to hear. The experience of Vietnam in particular and war in general cannot be complete without them. That the editors and publisher of Visions of War, Dreams of Peace turned to a male poet-editor to validate their book in a foreword only punctuates the difficulty women veterans faced in getting their voices heard. Sadly, Visions of War, Dreams of Peace is out of print, as is Lynda Van Devanter’s fine Vietnam memoir, Home before Morning. Visions of War, Dreams of Peace : a c o n v e r s a t i o n w i t h j o a n a . f u r e y Any reader will note that of the thirteen personal accounts reprinted in this volume none was written by a woman. Of course, fewer women than men serve in the armed forces (even at present, women make up less than 20 percent of the total), but there must be additional cause for the disproportionate representation. In twenty years of publication, WLA has received a fair number of critical essays and poems by women but virtually no war memoirs or personal essays by women. Perhaps the interview with Joan A. Furey will help move toward some explanation. Joan Furey served as a nurse in Vietnam, where the war—the worst of war—was brought to her and her colleagues daily. Furey and her peers suffered the consequences of combat—both to themselves and the damaged soldiers to whom they ministered—in a far greater proportion than did the male support troops. (In most circumstances, less than 25 percent of any fighting army actually faces frontline battle.) Despite the medical corps’ daily exposure to carnage, few females later spoke of their experiences, much less wrote them down. Like many WWII veterans, Joan Furey and her sisters kept quiet after their war, soldiering on. Perhaps as time passes, female veterans will more willingly share their stories. Meantime, I am pleased to reprint Joan Furey’s interview, first published in 1999. I believe it aptly frames the personal accounts that follow. —Donald Anderson wla: Where and when did you serve in Vietnam? furey: I served in Vietnam from January 29, 1969 to January 27, 1970, in the Seventy-first Evacuation Hospital in Pleiku. wla: How long after Vietnam did you resign from the army? furey: I had four months left. I returned from Vietnam and was stationed at Kimbrough Army Hospital at Fort Meade, Maryland. Then I got out. 2 | J O A N A . F U R E Y [3.91.19.28] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 10:50 GMT) wla: I don’t think it’s been written about much, but in some of the reading I’ve come across, women in the armed forces serving in Vietnam not only had the enemy to fear, but...