Coming Home

To a war-weary nation, a U.S. POW's return from captivity in Vietnam in 1973 looked like the happiest of reunions

  • By Carolyn Kleiner Butler
  • Smithsonian magazine, January 2005, Subscribe
 

 

Article Tools

 
  • Comments (12)
  • Font
    		•
  • Email
    		•
  • RSS
    		•
  • Print
    		•

    Sitting in the back seat of a station wagon on the tarmac at Travis Air Force Base, in California, clad in her favorite fuchsia miniskirt, 15-year-old Lorrie Stirm felt that she was in a dream. It was March 17, 1973, and it had been six long years since she had last seen her father, Lt. Col. Robert L. Stirm, an Air Force fighter pilot who was shot down over Hanoi in 1967 and had been missing or imprisoned ever since. She simply couldn't believe they were about to be reunited. The teenager waited while her father stood in front of a jubilant crowd and made a brief speech on behalf of himself and other POW's who had arrived from Vietnam as part of "Operation Homecoming."

    The minutes crept by like hours, she recalls, and then, all at once, the car door opened. "I just wanted to get to Dad as fast as I could," Lorrie says. She tore down the runway toward him with open arms, her spirits—and feet—flying. Her mother, Loretta, and three younger siblings—Robert Jr., Roger and Cindy—were only steps behind. "We didn't know if he would ever come home," Lorrie says. "That moment was all our prayers answered, all our wishes come true."

    Associated Press photographer Slava "Sal" Veder, who'd been standing in a crowded bullpen with dozens of other journalists, noticed the sprinting family and started taking pictures. "You could feel the energy and the raw emotion in the air," says Veder, then 46, who had spent much of the Vietnam era covering antiwar demonstrations in San Francisco and Berkeley. The day was overcast, meaning no shadows and near-perfect light. He rushed to a makeshift darkroom in a ladies' bathroom on the base (United Press International had commandeered the men's). In less than half an hour, Veder and his AP colleague Walt Zeboski had developed six remarkable images of that singular moment. Veder's pick, which he instantly titled Burst of Joy, was sent out over the news-service wires, published in newspapers around the nation and went on to win a Pulitzer Prize in 1974.

    It remains the quintessential homecoming photograph of the time. Stirm, 39, who had endured gunshot wounds, torture, illness, starvation and despair in North Vietnamese prison camps, including the infamous Hanoi Hilton, is pictured in a crisp new uniform. Because his back is to the camera, as Veder points out, the officer seems anonymous, an everyman who represented not only the hundreds of POW's released that spring but all the troops in Vietnam who would return home to the mothers, fathers, wives, daughters and sons they'd left behind. "It's a hero's welcome for guys who weren't always seen or treated as heroes," says Donald Goldstein, a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel and a coauthor of The Vietnam War: The Stories and The Photographs, of the Stirm family reunion picture. "After years of fighting a war we couldn't win, a war that tore us apart, it was finally over, and the country could start healing."

    But there was more to the story than was captured on film. Three days before Stirm landed at Travis, a chaplain had handed him a Dear John letter from his wife. "I can't help but feel ambivalent about it," Stirm says today of the photograph. "I was very pleased to see my children—I loved them all and still do, and I know they had a difficult time—but there was a lot to deal with." Lorrie says, "So much had happened—there was so much that my dad missed out on—and it took a while to let him back into our lives and accept his authority." Her parents were divorced within a year of his return. Her mother remarried in 1974 and lives in Texas with her husband. Robert retired from the Air Force as a colonel in 1977 and worked as a corporate pilot and businessman. He married and was divorced again. Now 72 and retired, he lives in Foster City, California.

    As for the rest of the family, Robert Jr. is a dentist in Walnut Creek, California; he and his wife have four children, the oldest of whom is a marine. Roger, a major in the Air Force, lives outside Seattle. Cindy Pierson, a waitress, resides in Walnut Creek with her husband and has a daughter in college. And Lorrie Stirm Kitching, now 47, is an executive administrator and mother of two sons. She lives in Mountain View, California, with her husband. All four of Robert Stirm Sr.'s children have a copy of Burst of Joy hanging in a place of honor on their walls. But he says he can't bring himself to display the picture.

    Three decades after the Stirm reunion, the scene, having appeared in countless books, anthologies and exhibitions, remains part of the nation's collective consciousness, often serving as an uplifting postscript to Vietnam. That the moment was considerably more fraught than we first assumed makes it all the more poignant and reminds us that not all war casualties occur on the battlefield.

    "We have this very nice picture of a very happy moment," Lorrie says, "but every time I look at it, I remember the families that weren't reunited, and the ones that aren't being reunited today—many, many families—and I think, I'm one of the lucky ones."


    Sitting in the back seat of a station wagon on the tarmac at Travis Air Force Base, in California, clad in her favorite fuchsia miniskirt, 15-year-old Lorrie Stirm felt that she was in a dream. It was March 17, 1973, and it had been six long years since she had last seen her father, Lt. Col. Robert L. Stirm, an Air Force fighter pilot who was shot down over Hanoi in 1967 and had been missing or imprisoned ever since. She simply couldn't believe they were about to be reunited. The teenager waited while her father stood in front of a jubilant crowd and made a brief speech on behalf of himself and other POW's who had arrived from Vietnam as part of "Operation Homecoming."

    The minutes crept by like hours, she recalls, and then, all at once, the car door opened. "I just wanted to get to Dad as fast as I could," Lorrie says. She tore down the runway toward him with open arms, her spirits—and feet—flying. Her mother, Loretta, and three younger siblings—Robert Jr., Roger and Cindy—were only steps behind. "We didn't know if he would ever come home," Lorrie says. "That moment was all our prayers answered, all our wishes come true."

    Associated Press photographer Slava "Sal" Veder, who'd been standing in a crowded bullpen with dozens of other journalists, noticed the sprinting family and started taking pictures. "You could feel the energy and the raw emotion in the air," says Veder, then 46, who had spent much of the Vietnam era covering antiwar demonstrations in San Francisco and Berkeley. The day was overcast, meaning no shadows and near-perfect light. He rushed to a makeshift darkroom in a ladies' bathroom on the base (United Press International had commandeered the men's). In less than half an hour, Veder and his AP colleague Walt Zeboski had developed six remarkable images of that singular moment. Veder's pick, which he instantly titled Burst of Joy, was sent out over the news-service wires, published in newspapers around the nation and went on to win a Pulitzer Prize in 1974.

    It remains the quintessential homecoming photograph of the time. Stirm, 39, who had endured gunshot wounds, torture, illness, starvation and despair in North Vietnamese prison camps, including the infamous Hanoi Hilton, is pictured in a crisp new uniform. Because his back is to the camera, as Veder points out, the officer seems anonymous, an everyman who represented not only the hundreds of POW's released that spring but all the troops in Vietnam who would return home to the mothers, fathers, wives, daughters and sons they'd left behind. "It's a hero's welcome for guys who weren't always seen or treated as heroes," says Donald Goldstein, a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel and a coauthor of The Vietnam War: The Stories and The Photographs, of the Stirm family reunion picture. "After years of fighting a war we couldn't win, a war that tore us apart, it was finally over, and the country could start healing."

    But there was more to the story than was captured on film. Three days before Stirm landed at Travis, a chaplain had handed him a Dear John letter from his wife. "I can't help but feel ambivalent about it," Stirm says today of the photograph. "I was very pleased to see my children—I loved them all and still do, and I know they had a difficult time—but there was a lot to deal with." Lorrie says, "So much had happened—there was so much that my dad missed out on—and it took a while to let him back into our lives and accept his authority." Her parents were divorced within a year of his return. Her mother remarried in 1974 and lives in Texas with her husband. Robert retired from the Air Force as a colonel in 1977 and worked as a corporate pilot and businessman. He married and was divorced again. Now 72 and retired, he lives in Foster City, California.

    As for the rest of the family, Robert Jr. is a dentist in Walnut Creek, California; he and his wife have four children, the oldest of whom is a marine. Roger, a major in the Air Force, lives outside Seattle. Cindy Pierson, a waitress, resides in Walnut Creek with her husband and has a daughter in college. And Lorrie Stirm Kitching, now 47, is an executive administrator and mother of two sons. She lives in Mountain View, California, with her husband. All four of Robert Stirm Sr.'s children have a copy of Burst of Joy hanging in a place of honor on their walls. But he says he can't bring himself to display the picture.

    Three decades after the Stirm reunion, the scene, having appeared in countless books, anthologies and exhibitions, remains part of the nation's collective consciousness, often serving as an uplifting postscript to Vietnam. That the moment was considerably more fraught than we first assumed makes it all the more poignant and reminds us that not all war casualties occur on the battlefield.

    "We have this very nice picture of a very happy moment," Lorrie says, "but every time I look at it, I remember the families that weren't reunited, and the ones that aren't being reunited today—many, many families—and I think, I'm one of the lucky ones."

        Subscribe now for more of Smithsonian's coverage on history, science and nature.



    Digg
     
    Comments (12)

    I well up every time I look at that picture. Learning the back story behind it many years ago makes it even more gripping.

    Posted by John Kanelis on July 12,2011 | 09:16 AM

    When I was 14, I sent for 2 bracelets. One has been misplaced. I got the other one out today. The name on my bracelet is Maj. Robert Stirm. The date 10-27-67. I googled his name & just found out about his homecoming. I never knew.
    I am going to try to get this bracelet back to the Stirms, where it belongs.

    Posted by Deb in Iowa on May 29,2011 | 07:36 PM

    Here's a link to Loretta's obituary, the then-wife of Lt. Col Stirm. She died in August 2010.

    http://obits.dignitymemorial.com/dignity-memorial/obituary.aspx?n=Loretta-Adams&lc=4886&pid=144674684&mid=4347106

    Posted by pugo46 on February 24,2011 | 10:35 PM

    As a sophmore in high school in 1971 I purchased a POW bracelet with the name Lt. Col. Robert Stirm. I never took it off until his return my senior year. I read all the news articles about him after his return and never forgot him or his sacrifice for our country. I kept the bracelet for many years, yet it was stolen several years ago. I still remember how I cried when I saw his name in the paper on a list of POW's returning from Vietnam. I also recall the feeling when I saw the picture "Burst of Joy" for the first time. I get the same feeling each time I see it.

    Posted by Robin Fontes, Sacramento, CA on February 23,2011 | 04:32 AM

    the picture is a great picture of joy and human spirit

    being lonely is full of temptations, she was tempted to bolt away,,,, human frailty

    colonel you have all my respect, i admire your biography and i pray you will live a longer life

    i have a copy of this picture in my office and i keep this because this reminds me of the human behavior

    i do not blame his wife for being unfaithful colonel does not deserve this divorce but this is life, we all make mistakes

    colonel tried to find his happiness and failed again this is life

    over all i like the picture and i wish that all the stirns r

    Posted by antonio tuason on December 23,2010 | 10:00 AM

    I knew simply from the text of the story which picture this was referring to. I've seen it many times and would stare at it raptly whenever I ran across it. It always makes my chest tighten and my eyes tear up.
    The joy that Lorrie is feeling at that moment physically radiates from the photo and I share in that feeling as I was lucky enough to have both my brothers come back from fighting in Southeast Asia.

    Posted by Donna on October 20,2010 | 01:44 AM

    A very iconic and poignant photograph, considering the ongoing issues of the parents' relationship. It is obvious that the children's exhuberance and joy of seeing their father is real and genuine. On the other hand, maybe the mother's smile was staged? (Too bad she couldn't be airbrushed out of the photograph...).

    Posted by Mike Chung on October 1,2010 | 11:55 AM

    Dear Lorrie,

    I'm the eldest son of a soldier who did not return from Vietnam. The photograph of your family together after so much time apart is something my family and I never had. The love you and your sister and brothers have for your father makes this image transformational. Your love lightens the weight of our sorrow...

    My very best to your father. Thank him for his service to our country.

    Posted by John Petric on August 17,2010 | 02:49 PM

    Colonel, you have my undying admiration and gratitude. I was born six months after you came home, but your story I read today after CNN posted this picture hits me as if this just happened. The tragedy only compounded after having to deal with your divorce after already going through hell. I have two little girls myself, which makes this photo all the more meaningful to me. Again, you are a true American hero, and I thank you.

    John

    Posted by Proud American on April 30,2010 | 12:11 PM

    I came across this photo today on CNN for the first time and I immediately burst into tears. What an amazing picture. I was also saddened to hear about his wife leaving him - how awful. I hope he and his children are doing well these days and I wish them all nothing but happiness. Thank you for all that you did for us. You deserved better than what you came home to, I hope you know that. My dad was drafted in this war but thankfully never had to fight. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been to be away from your kids that long. Best wishes in everything you do.

    Posted by kerri on April 30,2010 | 10:30 AM

    When he enlisted he swore an oath as did his wife when they first mnarried. He kept the faith under unimaginable odds and she didn't while he was tortured over and over. She is not worth his love or respect. Hell with her.

    Posted by Former Nam Marine on April 30,2010 | 04:45 AM

    Every time I look at this great picture I remember Bobby Stirm in happier times; we were in the same Cadet class at Ellington AFB, TX graduating in August 1954. We saw each other at Laredo AFB, TX in 1959; he was a class ahead of mine at pilot training. Never have seen him again except in this iconic picture. I am saddened that after all his POW hardships he had to return to the sadness of divorce. I love the story of his children and wish them and him a wonderful and healthy life.

    Posted by MAJ (RET) STAN MERCER on December 29,2009 | 08:57 PM

    Post a Comment


    Name: (required)

    Email: (required)

    Comment:

    Comments are moderated, and will not appear until Smithsonian.com has approved them. Smithsonian reserves the right not to post any comments that are unlawful, threatening, offensive, defamatory, invasive of a person's privacy, inappropriate, confidential or proprietary, political messages, product endorsements, or other content that might otherwise violate any laws or policies.



    Advertisement


    Advertisement

    Follow Us






    First Name
    Last Name
    Address 1
    Address 2
    City
    State   Zip
    Email

    Smithsonian Store

    Smithsonian Journeys