CU Boulder alum and regent emeritus Peter Steinhauer shares Vietnam experiences with students, to be featured in the in-progress documentary Welcome Home Daddy
Peter Steinhauer joined the U.S. Navy because thatâs what young men of his generation did.
âI was brought up to finish high school, go to college, join a fraternity, get married, spend two years in the military, then work the rest of my life,â he explains. âOf everybody I went to high school with in Golden, most of the boys went in (the military).â
So, after graduating the Âé¶čÊÓÆ” in 1958âwhere he met his wife, Juli, a voice majorâhe attended dental school in Missouri, then completed a face and jaw surgical residency, finishing in 1965. And then he joined the Navy.
He had two young daughters and a son on the way, and he learned two weeks after being stationed at Camp Pendleton that heâd be shipping to Vietnam, where he served from 1966-67.
âHow many of your grandparents served in Vietnam?â Steinhauer asks the students seated in desks rimming the perimeter of the classroom, and several raised their hands. Steinhauer has given this presentation to this class, The Vietnam Wars, for enough years that itâs now the grandchildren of his fellow veterans with whom he shares his experiences of war.
Even though Steinhauer had given the presentation before, the Oct. 18 session of The Vietnam Wars, for students in the Honors Residential Academic Program (HRAP), was different: It was filmed as part of the in-progress documentary , which chronicles Steinhauerâs experiences during and after the war and his deep love for the country and people of Vietnam.
âPete told me once that he dreams about Vietnam all the time, but theyâre not nightmares,â says Steven Dike, associate director of the HRAP and assistant teaching professor of history, who teaches The Vietnam Wars. âHeâs spent his life as a healer and an educator, and I think one of the values (for students) is hearing how his experiences in the war informed his life after it.â
âAn old guy thereâ
Steinhauer, a retired oral surgeon and CU regent emeritus, served a yearlong tour with the 3rd Marine Division, 3rd Medical Battalion in Da Nang, Vietnam. Lt. Cmdr. Steinhauer was a buzz-cut 30-year-oldââan old guy there,â he tells the studentsâwith a Kodak Instamatic camera.
He provided dental care and oral surgery to U.S. servicemen and servicewomen as well as Vietnamese people, and he took picturesâof the rice paddies and jungles, of the people he met, of the nameless details of daily life that were like nothing heâd experienced before.
âThis was the crapper,â Steinhauer tells the students, explaining a photo showing a square, metal-sided building with a flat, angled roof. âThere were four seats in there and no dividers, so you were just sitting with the guy next to you.â
When the electricity went out, he and his colleagues worked outside. When helicopters came in with the wounded, it was all hands on deck.
âTheyâd be brought off the helicopter and taken to the triage area,â Steinhauer says, the photo at the front of the classroom showing the organized chaos of it. âA lot of life-and-death decisions were made there, catheters and IVs were started there. The triage area is a wonderful part of military medicine.â
Steinhauer also documented the casualties, whose starkness the intervening years have done nothing to dim. One of his responsibilities was performing dental identification of bodies, âone of the hardest things I did,â he says.
Then there was Dec. 21, 1966: âA guy came inâit was pouring rain, and we had mass casualtiesâand he came in with trouble breathing,â Steinhauer recalls. âWe discovered he had an unexploded M79 rifle grenade in his neck. We got it out, but a corpsman said, âDoc, you better be careful with that, it can go boom.ââ
Not only did Marine Pvt. Raymond Escalera survive a live grenade in his neck, but about 12 years ago Steinhauer tracked him down and visited him at his home in Pico Rivera, California. âWe call four or five times a year now,â Steinhauer says.
Building relationships
Steinhauer and his colleagues also treated Vietnamese civilians. âOne of the most fun parts of my year there was being able to perform 60 or 70 cleft lip surgeries,â Steinhauer tells the students, showing before and after photos.
He then shows them a photo of the so-called âMcNamara Lineâ between North and South Vietnamâa defoliated slash of brown and gray that looks like a wound that will never heal.
Healing, however, has happened, and continues to. âI was blessed by the ability to go back to a place where so many horrible things happened during the war and make something beautiful of it,â Steinhauer says.
In the years since he returned from warâand met his almost-one-year-old son for the first timeâSteinhauer has gone back to Vietnam more than two dozen times. Acknowledging that his experience is not all veteransâ experience, he says he has been blessed to learn about Vietnam as a country and not just a war.
âHow veterans dealt with the war, how theyâre still coming to terms with it as weâre getting further away from it, are really important issues,â says Mark Gould, director and a producer of Welcome Home Daddy. âItâs not just a war that we quote-unquote lost, but it was the most confusing war the United States has ever fought. We never had closure, but that didnât stop Dr. Steinhauer from reaching out. Our tagline is âGovernments wage war, people make peace,â and thatâs what he stands for.â
The idea for the documentary originated with Steinhauerâs daughter, Terrianne, who grew up not only hearing his stories but visiting the country with him and her mom. She and Gould served in the CalArts alumni association together, and several years ago she pitched him the idea for Welcome Home Daddy, which they are making in partnership with producer Rick Hocutt.
The documentary will weave Steinhauerâs stories with those of other veterans and highlight the relationships that Steinhauer has built over decadesâthrough partnering with medical professionals in Vietnam and volunteering his services there, through supporting Vietnamese students who study in the United States, through facilitating education and in-person visits between U.S. and Vietnamese doctors and nurses. At the same time, Juli Steinhauer has grown relationships with musicians and other artists in Vietnam. Both parents passed a love for Vietnam to their children.
An ugly war, a beautiful country
The stories of Vietnam could fill volumes. In fact, Steinhauer attended a 10-week course called Tell Your Story: A Writing Workshop for Those Who Have Served in the Military in 2008âoffered through the Program for Writing and Rhetoric and the Division of Continuing Educationâand wrote Remembering Vietnam 1966-67, a collection of his memories and photographs of the war that he published privately and gives to family, friends and colleagues.
Âé¶čÊÓÆ” 10 years ago, Steinhauer asked to audit The Vietnam Warsââwarsâ is plural because âwe canât understand the American war without understanding the French war,â Dike explainsâin what was only the second time Dike had taught it.
âSo, I was a little nervous,â Dike remembers with a laugh, âbut he comes in and is just the nicest guy in the world. I asked if heâd be interested in sharing his experiences, and heâs given his presentation during the semester every class since.â
In the Oct. 18 class, Steinhauer shares stories of bamboo vipers in the dental clinic, of perforating vs. penetrating wounds, of meeting baseball legends Brooks Robinson and Stan Musial when they visited the troops, of a since-faded Vietnamese tradition of women dyeing their teeth black as a symbol of beauty.
âIt was an ugly war, but itâs a beautiful country,â Steinhauer says. âJust a beautiful country.â
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