Vietnam

Six months after Bob Kerrey was admitted to the Philadelphia Naval Hospital in 1969, I entered nursing school at Methodist Hospital. My new best friend, Pam, was also a student nurse. In addition to attending frat parties, marching in protests (for which we were punished by the directress of nursing because they caught us on TV in our uniforms) and staying up late memorizing the 12 cranial nerves, she used to talk me into visiting the naval hospital to cheer up wounded vets coming home from Vietnam.

Oliver Stone, who is at the Venice Film Festival for his Sept. 11 drama, World Trade Center, has accused Hollywood of glorifying war. "Pearl Harbor and Black Hawk Down - these movies worshiped the machinery of war," Stone said. "And I think America went back to the concept of war too easily. " Unlike previous decades, which also produced antiwar films, Stone said, the '90s were dominated by pictures "that promoted the concept of war. " "I have reasons to be depressed as a Vietnam veteran," said Stone, who made the Vietnam film Platoon.

The Vietnam War ended for the United States 25 years ago yesterday. As other wars have, it left a lasting mark on the country and the world. And on families. More than 58,000 American men and women died in Vietnam. One of them was Charles Diamond - "Chick" to his family, "Doc" to his war buddies. Chick grew up with his mother and father and three siblings in Philadelphia. Went to Cardinal Dougherty High School. Raised hell with his friends. When he was called, he went to Vietnam to serve his country.

At the corner of Nguyen Hue and Le Loi Streets, one of the busiest intersections in what Vietnam's communist government calls Ho Chi Minh City and everybody else still calls Saigon, a small souvenir stand features a colorful display of T-shirts. "Hard Rock Cafe Saigon" is perhaps the most popular; "333 Export Beer" and "Apocalypse Now" also do a brisk business. But the T-shirt the saleswoman is most anxious to hawk bears a more political message: "Lift the embargo now!" On the streets of Nha Trang, Da Nang and Hue - cities whose names evoke unpleasant memories of America's earlier intervention there - shops and stalls and sidewalk vendors offer everything from lacquerware to VCRs to Zippo lighters bearing the familiar crests of the 82d Airborne, the 4th Infantry Division or the 1st Air Cavalry.

The use of Dan Quayle to lead the "draft-dodger" charge against Bill Clinton bespeaks a wishfully low estimation of the American voter. How long did the White House think it would take before folks would scratch their heads and start asking, "Didn't that Quayle fella pull a few strings himself to get out of Vietnam?" Well, the Vice President did use family connections to secure a safe haven in the Indiana National Guard. Old news. Mostly hashed over in Mr. Quayle's bumpy start as Mr. Bush's running-mate.

With the success of the new Robin Williams comedy Good Morning, Vietnam, a movie once again is breathing new life into an old, pretty much forgotten song. In 1986, it was the Ben E. King classic "Stand By Me" that got a boost from the Rob Reiner comedy hit of the same name. The success of the film also did wonders for the career of King himself. Last year, Los Lobos' remake of Ritchie Valens' "La Bamba," from the movie of the same name, was a No. 1 record almost 20 years after the original Ritchie Valens hit. Now, it is the sentimental, 20-year-old Louis Armstrong ballad, "What a Wonderful World," that is getting plenty of radio play and helping sell lots of records.

Bill Clinton had deep circles under his eyes when he appeared on ABC's Nightline Wednesday, the tell-tale signs of a man who has spent too much time at the center of a media vortex. Bruised but still standing after the Gennifer Flowers onslaught, he was now trying to beat back accusations that he used deceptive tactics to avoid being drafted in 1969. We were adamant a few weeks ago that Ms. Flowers' charges of adultery were irrelevant to Mr. Clinton's suitability to serve as president.

Vinh Vu, 19, lives in a tiny basement room, big enough for just a bed, a small table and chair, a rod to hang his clothes, and his collection of trophies. The room, in a Logan apartment building, was carved out of a storage space. To get to it, he walks through a narrow hallway cluttered with drums of solvent, vacuum cleaners and other equipment. There are no windows. There is a hole in the ceiling. The water and heat pipes are exposed, including one that runs past the foot of his bed. Two of the walls are unpainted, naked drywall.

Can a new movie, "Born On the Fourth of July," have the celluloid clout to fuel its real-life Vietnam war hero to a seat in the U.S. Congress? Does the Vietam War - after all, its madness is 15 years past - retain the emotional wattage to affect voters? Can a maverick, crippled Vietnam veteran ride his wheelchair to defeat the most flamboyant right-winger in Congress? Ron Kovic may find out. If he runs, Kovic's challenge to hawkish Republican Congressman Bob Dornan will turn Orange County, Calif.

Webster Anderson says it was the stroke a year ago that slowed him down. Not Vietnam. Not the grenades that blasted away most of his legs, or the one that blew off his right hand. No "woe is me. " That's grit. And as he sat in a wheelchair at MossRehab in North Philadelphia last week, a robust man gone slight, it was the grit that spoke to 22 teenagers. They had gone to Anderson, 63, for insight into the Vietnam experience, which they are recalling in an Edison High School production.