There isn’t much attention paid to the wives of warriors.
At least historically, husbands were the sailors, soldiers, flyers and marines away fighting wars. They were the important ones, right?
Yet a new statue that is about to be unveiled in Coronado explores and challenges that perception: The sculpture features four women – the wives of military combatants – who also became a force to be reckoned with.
Led by Coronado resident Sybil Stockdale in 1966, who is also the first woman that can be identified in the statue, founded the League of Wives, which fought for the humane treatment of their husbands who had become prisoners of war (POWs) in Vietnam.
The other three unidentifiable women represent the many other wives that gave their time to the organization.
Their campaign changed the lives of hundreds of soldiers and families.
To our knowledge, this will be the first memorial to military spouses in the country.
Memorial project’s Foundation Chairperson Alexia Palacios-Peters
“To our knowledge, this will be the first memorial to military spouses in the country,” said Alexia Palacios-Peters, the memorial project’s foundation chairperson.
The unveiling will be held on June 21 at 11 a.m. at Star Park in Coronado.
“People talk about military spouses and how we support, and we’re here, raising families and keeping the home fire burning, making sure the bills are paid,” said Palacios-Peters, who is also a military spouse. “This memorial, it’s to honor these ladies, these League of Wives (founders) who really broke so many barriers.”
One of the ladies in question, Mary-Ann Patterson Mearns, still resides in Coronado.
Mary-Ann Patterson Mearns
“We were just trying to find out what happened to our husbands,” Mary-Ann Patterson Mearns recalls.
In 1969, the women traveled to Washington, D.C. to talk with their representatives about their husbands who had gone missing during the Vietnam War. The goal: to fight on behalf of POWs for better care and human rights.
Before this, Mearns had been quiet for a few months.
She was told to not speak out or treatment of the POWs might get worse in Vietnam.
But this was her husband, an Air Force pilot. Her other half. And he had been shot down in 1966 while dropping bombs on railroad yards moving military equipment north of Hanoi.
“He bailed out of his airplane, his head was up,” Mearns said. “His airplane was shot down by ground fire.”
And that was the last that was seen of Major Arthur Mearns.
He was never publicly announced as a POW, but Mearns kept up hope and decided to fight – even though she had no idea where he was.
Through a friend at the Pentagon, she found a woman named Sybil Stockdale.
Stockdale’s husband was the highest ranking POW in Vietnam.
Stockdale lived in Coronado.
Mearns made her way to Coronado from Los Angeles and later wrote in a short biography of her time in the League of Wives, “I found an ally in Sybil and no longer felt alone.”
What followed was years of letters, lobbying campaigns and travels to fight for their husbands, who were unable to fight for themselves.
But it wasn’t easy.
“Do you know how women were treated back then?” Mearns asked in an interview. “It was a man’s world.”
Not only did Mearns and the other wives have to deal with the societal standards of the era, they were up against government intransigence and warnings to stay quiet.
“You don’t get a lot done in those days with politicians,” Mearns quipped.
But all the women worked hard.
There were some in Coronado, some in Los Angeles and some on the East Coast – each pushing for change.
Mearns sent hundreds of letters to congressional representatives, visited Russia, Egypt – even joined a group with Stockdale that met with President Richard Nixon.
“The next couple years were very busy and difficult with meetings, speeches, endless letter writing, phone calls, TV, newspaper, magazine and radio interviews,” Mearns wrote.
Even if she didn’t feel the change happening at the time, times were changing.
And yet, she still didn’t know what had happened to her husband – more than a decade of uncertainty, dread and frustration.
Finally, in 1977, 11 years after her husband had been shot down, Mearns got a call that his remains had been returned along with those of 21 other American service members.
Finally, she knew where her husband was: In Arlington National Cemetery.
Mearns, now 92, said that she will be with him when her time comes.
Although Mearns never got her husband back alive, many other wives did thanks to the League of Wives.
Kathy Ensch
Lieutenant John Ensch had been gone since February. It was now August.
Kathy Ensch got a telegram that he was shot down, missing in action.
This was 1972, just a couple years before the Vietnam War ended. Ensch vividly recalls her eldest daughter, Beth, dealing with her father’s disappearance – filling notebooks with images of planes in the sky – some of them exploding.
“‘Your job while daddy’s gone is to get your grades up and make sure that your grades are good,’” Ensch told her at the time.
She had no idea whether her husband was alive or dead. But she talked to the children about when he would come back. Not if.
And she would tell herself consistently that he was alive until she was told he wasn’t.
Ensch was not a member of the League of Wives, but recalls how the organization paved the way for her husband as a POW and helped her cope during months of uncertainty.
“Each of us was assigned a CACO officer, which was something my heroes, those ladies, didn’t have,” Ensch said, referring to a League of Wives liaison between families and the military.
Her CACO officer, or Casualty Assistance Calls Officer, liaison Cmdr. Sam Hallmark, provided financial guidance at a crucial time for the family.
“He was a huge help,” Ensch said. “And that’s something that those ladies had worked out. We knew because of what my heroes had to experience.”
Ensch recalls the courage and leadership shown by the League of Wives, especially Stockdale, who died in 2015.
“Sybil had a bright pink suit that she wore, and she wore it when she went to see President Nixon,” Ensch said. “I mean, they wore hats, gloves and heels.
There was no sniveling, there was no whining…’This is what we are.’ And they did it with such dignity. I was just so proud of them.
Kathy Ensch
“There was no sniveling, there was no whining,” she added. “‘This is what we are.’ And they did it with such dignity. I was just so proud of them.”
“They talked to presidents. They went to the Vietnam embassy in Paris and presented their cause.”
When Ensch finally learned that her husband was alive – in a POW camp – Hallmark was the one to deliver the news.
“It was two or three days before Christmas,” she recalls, laughing. “What a gift, huh? That was the best Christmas ever.”
These are just two of the stories to represent the story of every woman whose husbands were POWs.
And this memorial will be the first in the country to honor their stories and work.
