by Libbie Hegvik
My parents met at Camp Eagle, Phu Bai, Vietnam, in 1969. My dad, Ben Thornal, was an Army helicopter pilot who had just landed in camp to find no one around. Someone told him that everyone was at the mess hall, where some Red Cross “Donut Dollies” were putting on a program.
Also called “SRAO girls” (for Supplemental Recreational Activities Overseas), Dollies were Red Cross workers who volunteered for a year’s duty in Vietnam to boost morale and bring smiles to the faces of American service members. The screening process was stringent. You had to be female, between 21 and 24 years old, a college graduate and single. You also had to have the right temperament: tough and fearless, yet outgoing and pleasant. Only 627 Donut Dollies served in Vietnam between 1965-1973.
These women criss-crossed South Vietnam–some even landing in Cambodia–by truck, jeep, and helicopter to reach soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines wherever they were. They logged over 2 million miles and often came under fire as they made their way to remote firebases and jungle outposts. Once there, the Dollies sang songs, played games, and provided listening ears to men who’d been traumatized by war.
These women went largely unrecognized for decades and never achieved the status of Veterans since they were not with the military. Yet, their service was important, even indispensable to many.
My mother, Diane Zettervall, was one of these brave women. In 1969, she had just been assigned to Camp Eagle. She was meeting with service members in the mess hall there the day he landed. According to my dad, he walked into the hall and started talking to the cutest Dolly. They had a conversation about things that were hard to get in Vietnam. My mom remarked she couldn’t get Arrid Extra Dry deodorant.
Dad happened to have an extra can, so he offered it to her. They walked to his hooch, he brought it out, and loudly presented it to her on behalf of the 101st Airborne Division. Amused and embarrassed, she started to fall in love with him. They “dated” for two months before mom was reassigned to an Air Force Base further south.
During their time together at Camp Eagle they came under a rocket attack, and the two of them made it to a bunker with three other men, plus a litter of puppies. They were lucky to survive. Ninety-nine men at Camp Eagle died that night in the fighting.
After my mom was transferred, they talked on the phone as often as possible. For Christmas, my dad hitched rides by jeep and helicopter to my mom and proposed to her on Christmas Day 1969. They were married the following April and have been together every since.
As a producer with an advertising agency, I got the idea for a documentary about Donut Dollies after my mother was denied a spot on an Honor Flight to Washington, DC. My Army veteran father received it, but my mother was rejected because she didn’t serve in the military. I told my leadership team at the agency about my mother’s experience, and the company green lighted my plan for a documentary.
The basis of the production are stories from the 17 Donut Dollies at the American Red Cross Overseas Association convention last year.
We look forward to its release this spring. Stay tuned!
