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Mary Frances Kenny
A Wife of We Were Soldiers
10/28/2021
In 2003 Hank and I went to see Mel Gibson’s new movie We Were Soldiers. When
scenes appeared of taxi cabs delivering death notices to families at Ft. Benning,
I shuddered. The scenes took me back to an identical experience at our home on
Carrollburg Drive just outside Ft. Bragg. Along with other wives whose husbands
who had deployed to Vietnam, I lived under constant fear of news reports of
heavy fighting and increasing casualties.
One early fall afternoon I returned home from shopping for a few things for
our two little children. I drove up the driveway, unloaded the car, and walked
to the front door. I was now ready to thank and pay the young girl from next
door for baby-sitting. I turned the key. Opening the door, I saw my baby-sitter
crying. Tears swarmed down her face. “My dad, my dad! My dad was killed,” she
finally said. I tried to console the girl, and shared her grief with tears of my
own. She told me a taxi had arrived at our house with a telegram for my mother.
The driver had asked her, “is this the house of Sergeant ___ (her father)?” She
told him no, that his home was next door. The driver then delivered the telegram
to her mother next door, who in turn had told her the sad news. I walked the
girl home, shaken by the closeness of death to her and all the young families in
the Ft. Bragg area. It was 1966. TV film and news reports were highlighting
intense battles and more casualties.
Leaving the movie theater, I was thankful that Hank and I were alive and well,
and prayerful for those less fortunate in that long and difficult war.
Life in Tokyo
We were living in Tokyo, where Hank was the Special Assistant to Ambassador Mike
Mansfield. A lot of people would come to the Embassy to consult with Mansfield.
One of them was Henry Kissinger, who was enroute to China to help normalize
relations with that country. Before going to China, however, he needed an
injection of gamma globulin. At the time I was serving as the Embassy nurse, so
guess who gave dear old Henry a shot in the "you know what"? Afterward, people
asked me the color and type of his underwear. Top secret!
On another occasion I had the opportunity to meet then Vice President George
H.W. Bush. Although a Republican, he wanted to consult with the former
Democratic leader, and in the process took time to meet with some Embassy staff
at Ambassador Mansfield’s residence. He was very cordial, and when he learned
that Hank and I had lived at West Point and that Hank was a graduate, he
appeared enthusiastic, and recalled his visit and address there while he was the
U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations. I later learned that one of the purposes
of his visit was to decide whether to recommend that Mansfield stay on as
Ambassador in Tokyo during the Reagan Administration. He did.
Finally, there was the time when our son John got lost. He had just started
first grade when he hopped a subway hoping to arrive at a station near our home.
Instead, he transferred to the wrong train and wound up in Shinjuku, a city a
dozen miles from downtown Tokyo where we lived. Fortunately, he knew how to use
public phones, and so when he called, I told him to go to the nearest Koban
(police station), and ask for directions to Roppongi station near us. The police
heard the word Roppongi right, and less than an hour later he showed up at our
door. He never got lost again.Judi Butterworth:
10/15/2021 Rcollections of the Humorous Side of Life as The Lady of the Class of
1961
I was an Iowa farm girl with little knowledge of West Point at the time Larry
and I met. I recall telling my Mom that Larry and I were talking about marriage
(after only 3 dates). She didn’t seem too thrilled or impressed with him being a
West Pointer but she made it clear to me that I should probably seal the deal
since he was a “Virginian”.
We were married in northwest Iowa during a blizzard which dropped over 6 feet
of snow. For some reason, Larry had to drive alone in the blizzard to a church
he had never seen. The service had to be held up a bit but he made it. Larry has
always claimed that the 5 parachute jumps at Airborne School were a piece of
cake compared to this 6th jump into marriage. Of course, it didn’t end there as
we had to spend the first 3 days of our honeymoon in my parents’ attic while my
Dad helped dig us out so we could make our way to California to Larry’s first
assignment.
When we arrived at Fort MacArthur, CA, we were told we could stay in the BOQ
until we found housing. We were also told that the BOQ would be empty except for
us – WRONG!!! Larry reported for duty early the next morning and left me to
sleep in. When I went down the hall to take a shower in my flimsies, I heard
voices from the shower. I ran as hard as I could back to our room and I think I
made it just as 3 guys came out into the hall from the shower – WELCOME TO THE
ARMY!!!
Our first born, Kimberley, arrived in San Pedro, CA on Christmas Day, 1962.
The night before her birth, Larry and my Dad had more than a few drinks after I
went to bed. As Larry came to bed, I informed him that I thought I was about to
give birth. He tried his best to talk me out of it saying he was in no condition
to deal with this. I finally prevailed and we were off to the hospital. About a
block from our apartment, Larry announces that he left his eyeglasses behind and
cannot see well. His drunken state plus being half blind made for an interesting
trip to the hospital. He literally used the curb as a guide, in and out around
parked cars. When I arrived in the delivery room, Larry announced to the medical
staff that he had a severe case of hemorrhoids and suggested that he might just
require more attention than his wife. Larry made me a promise after this that he
would arrange in the future to be absent during any of my future deliveries. He
kept this promise.
Life in the Army world continued to be exciting and unpredictable but for me
Larry’s first job after retirement (Saudi Arabia) probably topped all of our
previous experiences. Larry worked for Vinnell Corporation, which was charged
with training the Saudi National Guard. I was given some good advice by a fellow
Army wife before going to Saudi Arabia. She told me the only way for a woman to
survive there was to ignore the Saudi police (Mutawas) and just walk a straight
line as if they didn’t exist. I never had a real problem shopping except when
Larry accompanied me. He was responsible for keeping me in line (no blonde hair
showing and no part of bare legs showing) and the Mutawas would give him “hell”
for not keeping me under control.
Larry was fortunate to be able to command both a battalion and brigade and
these opportunities allowed me to work closely with and assist the young wives
of officers, non-commissioned officers, and soldiers. This was my biggest thrill
as an Army wife.
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