Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, March 22, 1991 TAG: 9103220235
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: B2 EDITION: STATE
SOURCE: Landmark News Service
DATELINE: VIRGINIA BEACH LENGTH: Medium
As many as 5,000 jostled for position behind an orange barricade Thursday afternoon, struggling and straining to catch a glimpse of former POWs Lts. Lawrence Slade, Robert Wetzel and Jeffrey Zaun.
After a five-minute ceremony declaring them "American heroes," Slade and Wetzel worked a frenzied crowd eager to shake hands or simply touch the men whose faces they had seen on television and in newspapers and national magazines.
It was the final homecoming for the former prisoners. They exited into normal life by walking across the Tarmac to cars that whisked them out of view.
Within minutes, they were gone - one to return to his family, another to a hospital and the third to put on jeans and get a beer.
An A-6E Intruder with "510" painted on it was positioned behind the podium, the same number of the jet Wetzel and Zaun had flown the night they were downed.
An F-14 Tomcat stood beside it in honor of the jet Slade had flown with pilot Devon Jones when they were shot down Jan. 21. Jones was later rescued by the Air Force.
"They deserve everything they got today," said Lt. Steve Snyder, a bombardier-navigator sent to the Persian Gulf to replace Zaun in squadron VA-35.
"They went through hell over there," said Snyder, who returned to Oceana last week. "For them to come back to this treatment is just what they needed."
The fliers were briefly escorted onto a podium as a military band played in the background. Each was pinned with three medals - the Purple Heart, the POW Medal and the National Defense Service.
"We honor these officers today for their own courage and dedication and for all those they represent," said Adm. Frank Kelso II, chief of naval operations.
The fliers, surrounded by Navy brass, did not speak during the choreographed ceremony. They were blocked from the crowd by the fence and row of guards in combat fatigues.
Few seemed to mind.
For Cristen Saweikis, a 17-year-old from Virginia Beach, the ceremony was a chance for her to study her new idol - Zaun.
"You could see his little dimples: `I'm not going to smile, I'm not going to smile,' " she said, referring to Zaun.
For Zaun, the attention lasted well into the afternoon when a crowd of 75 neighbors stood outside his single-story, wood-shingled home in Virginia Beach.
Plants and a bottle of champagne were dropped on the front steps of the home as early as 3:30 p.m. as the neighborhood readied for Zaun's return.
At 5:15 p.m., Zaun arrived, escorted by a navy public affairs officer. It was his first time back.
Children began singing, "We love you Jeffrey" when he got out of his car.
"I appreciate what you've done for me," Zaun told the gathering. "I can see, since I got home and just driving through the neighborhood, I can see the support that you've given me.
"Believe it or not, when I was in captivity I could feel it," Zaun said. "I wish I could make you all understand just how good you make me feel, coming home and seeing everybody genuinely really glad to see me."
by CNB