11:34am | The second annual Hope and Freedom Film Festival takes over the Art Theatre this Saturday, bringing films and filmmakers to Long Beach for a day of intriguing cinema and discussion.
In his documentary Killing Memories, Vietnam veteran and documentarian Pete Pepper shares a powerful story of personal tragedy, comradery and redemption. It explores a personal and shared journey of Vietnam veterans who reconnect with their commander in the midst of his darkest hours.
Pete’s story begins with the death of his wife, Ann. I asked him how long they had been together.
Pete: We met in 1986, married the next year, and she died in 2004, so it was 17 years plus. She had been a flight attendant on World Airways and had flown the Vietnam route, so we had that kind of visceral connection right away.
he was born in New York but her family moved to Clark Air Base in the Philippines shortly after her birth, where she lived until leaving to go to college in the U.S. Her father was a civilian who worked for the Air Force, and her mother also worked at the base as a secretary.
She was a commercial real estate broker in Silicon Valley, a very successful one, quite focused on being successful. Because she was a very pretty woman, appearances were quite important. As I mention in the film, it was confirmed after her death that she was sexually abused as a child, starting at the age of 12, so she had that hidden history to deal with.
Like many couples, as they approach retirement, we had sought out a beautiful place to live, moving from San Jose where both of us were fairly well-known, to a remote spot in Sonoma County where we thought we could re-invent ourselves. That turned out to not be either easy or, ultimately, possible.
Sander: After you returned from your military service in Vietnam, was it difficult to successfully put those experiences behind you?
Pete: Yes. I think most veterans of combat have some persistent difficulties. That’s what PTSD is all about. The gun which Ann used to kill herself was symbolic of that difficulty for me. I bought it in 1965 when I volunteered for Vietnam, and slept with it upon my return. First it was in my hand, then under the pillow, then under the mattress, then not too far away, but never gone. I guess you could measure my success in dealing with the war by measuring the distance that gun was from me when I slept.
Sander: Had you stayed in touch with the men who you served with?
Pete: No. I thought all of us had done the same thing: Just buried that part of our past.
Sander: So, after Ann’s death, their reappearance in your life was unexpected.
Pete: I got a call out of the blue from one of my men, informing me that they had been looking for me. At that time, I was in the darkest place I had ever experienced, living alone in the months after Ann’s death, blaming myself for not being able to stop what happened, and wishing, hoping that I could find some way to evaporate. Was I suicidal? In so far as I no longer wanted to live, yes. Obviously, because I lived through that, I didn’t die. One of the biggest things which prevented my own death was the contact with my men. After the phone call, I flew to Chicago to meet with three of the men in the documentary. It was obvious that they thought I had been a good commander and that they thought I was a good guy. Those feelings were in sharp contrast to the way I was feeling about myself.
Sander: What happened then?
Pete: I started going to reunions of our military unit, the First Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division, where I met other guys, many of whom thought I was an okay commander. Ultimately, because I had returned to Vietnam in 2002 with my son and had a good experience, I proposed a trip for the five of us in the hope that it would be therapeutic for them, too.
Sander: The film documents the journey to Vietnam, and the effort to find some sort of closure for, and relief from, the horrors they experienced there. What’s the most important lesson you learned from the trip?
Pete: We have been fighting wars which are out of sight and, for most folks, out of mind. Vietnam should have taught us that the effects of war do not disappear when the soldiers come home. The fact that vets of Vietnam still suffer from what they were asked to do all these years later ought to inform the public that the current veterans will carry their burden for decades. For me, the bottom line is that if we are to make war, the cost of that war ought to be shared by everyone, not just the few who fight it.
—
Killing Memories will be shown at 5:15 p.m. this Saturday, followed by a Q&A with Pete and several cast members. More information about the film can be found at KillingMemories.com.
More information about the festival can be found at HopeAndFreedomFilmFestival.org.