Vietnam veteran from Bar Harbor to join honor roll Early death linked to Agent Orange

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BAR HARBOR – After a 13-year wait, a Maine man is saying goodbye to his father today. Troy Mitchell, 22, will stand before the endless black granite expanse of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington and read his father’s name aloud: Stephen Ross Mitchell.
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BAR HARBOR – After a 13-year wait, a Maine man is saying goodbye to his father today.

Troy Mitchell, 22, will stand before the endless black granite expanse of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington and read his father’s name aloud: Stephen Ross Mitchell.

In appearance and manner, Troy bears a striking resemblance to the father who fell to cancer when his son was only 8 years old, says Troy’s mother, Bonnie Poland.

“Steve seemed so strong and stable. He just seemed like somebody who would be there for you,” she said. “When you lose someone like that, you look into the family, and you see him.”

Poland has worked nonstop since her husband’s death to have him honored with his fellow soldiers in Washington, to have his sacrifice recognized, she said. For more than a decade, the U.S. government refused to admit that Mitchell’s exposure to Agent Orange in Vietnam likely caused his premature death.

But today, Patriot’s Day in Maine, Mitchell’s name will be added to the “In Memory Honor Roll” of more than 750 men and women whose early deaths can be attributed to the physical or emotional effects of their service in the Vietnam War.

Only the names of those veterans whose deaths occurred on Vietnamese soil during a set period of time are eligible for inscription on the wall itself. So in 1993, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund created an alternative means of honoring the thousands of veterans who did not meet its stringent criteria, said Jan Scruggs, president of the fund.

“By bringing together those who have sustained similar tragedies, the ‘In Memory’ ceremony allows family and friends to share their stories and start the process of healing,” Scruggs said.

Troy Mitchell is participating in the third annual “In Memory Day” ceremony by leaving behind a photograph of himself, his father and his younger brother, Ross, that will rest against the wall near the names of Stephen Mitchell’s comrades, then be preserved in the National Park Service archive of Vietnam era memorabilia.

“It wasn’t ever a question. I wanted to go and show my respect for him. I was so young when he died,” Troy said.

Stephen Mitchell was born and raised in Bar Harbor with four siblings and a large extended family who expected him to settle down on the island. But he enlisted in the Army in 1967, fresh out of high school.

He volunteered to serve overseas in the escalating Vietnam conflict, in part, to protect his younger brother David.

By 1970, Mitchell was living with the 243rd Assault Helicopter Company at Dong Ba Thin, near Can Ranh Bay in South Vietnam. His scrapbook of the yearlong tour showcases the antics of boy-soldiers, the dense jungles and the lives of native Vietnamese.

What Mitchell didn’t chronicle was the attack helicopters, coming in for his inspection and repair, dripping with the powerful herbicides – Agent Orange among them – that the helicopter pilots sprayed over the countryside.

A 1998 government study of a similar Army helicopter unit, the 335th Assault Helicopter Company, indicated that mechanics such as Mitchell were at high risk for chemical exposure.

“The aircraft, which performed aerial herbicide spraying, would return from the mission thoroughly covered with chemicals from the main compartment to the extreme rear of the tail section. Little or no effort was given to clean the helicopters prior to the maintenance section performing repairs,” reads the 1998 report.

According to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, more than 19 million gallons of herbicides were sprayed on 3.6 million acres between 1962 and 1971. A majority of the 3 million Vietnam veterans living in America today likely were exposed.

When Mitchell met and married Poland in 1978, he had no idea that carcinogenic chemicals still coursed though his body.

When the young couple conceived their sons, they never considered that Mitchell’s brief exposure to Agent Orange would burden his children with problems ranging from learning disabilities to severe asthma and skin ailments.

When he began having backaches in the early 1980s, Mitchell didn’t think to blame Agent Orange.

But when his doctors diagnosed multiple myeloma, a fast-growing cancer, his suspicion rose.

Patients diagnosed with multiple myeloma have an average age between 65 and 70, according to the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation.

Mitchell was 34.

The disease is a cancer of a particular type of white blood cell called a plasma cell. Healthy plasma cells contribute to the body’s immune system. But in the body of a patient with multiple myeloma, mutant plasma cells take up residence in the bone marrow, crowding out all other types of cells. Eventually, the loss of these blood- and bone-forming cells causes patients to become anemic, to lose most of their natural immunity and to develop soft spots in their bones.

Chemotherapy is effective for some, but multiple myeloma is considered fatal. Death typically occurs only a few years after diagnosis.

Mitchell suffered through chemotherapy and achieved a short period of remission in the early 1980s.

Dozens of fellow town employees in Bar Harbor donated vacation time and sick leave so Mitchell could continue to receive a paycheck while undergoing treatment, Poland said. Mitchell had spent nearly 10 years working for the sewer department in his hometown.

But the cancer resumed, and Mitchell fell into a swift decline.

“This guy used to be 230 pounds of solid muscle. Now he looks like a walking skeleton – but he just won’t let go,” David Mitchell said, recalling his brother’s final months.

Mitchell lost his four-year battle in 1988, leaving behind his young wife and their boys, 3-year-old Ross and 8-year-old Troy.

For three years, the family struggled to accept his death, avoiding eating meals at home so they wouldn’t have to face the empty chair, Poland said.

“It was so confusing. It seems like a whole different life,” she said. “I was just in a fog, not knowing what I was doing.”

In 1991, Bonnie married David Poland, who became a second dad to her boys. But for their sake, she never stopped writing letters and making calls about Mitchell’s death.

“I filed appeal after appeal – you know the government,” she said. “There was so much red tape.”

Poland isn’t angry today, just saddened by that fact that it took the military so many years to acknowledge her husband’s sacrifice. David Mitchell still hasn’t come to terms with the military’s refusal to accept responsibility for Stephen’s illness.

“The government has turned a head,” he said. “He took a lot of slaps in the face, and denials, and making short work of what [government officials] knew was true.”

Finally, in 1994, a government-funded study of Agent Orange conducted by the National Academy of Sciences’ Institute of Medicine stated that tenuous links between multiple myeloma and the herbicide existed.

Poland hopes that someday, as further information about Agent Orange emerges, the criteria will be changed so the names of Mitchell and the hundreds of other veterans on the “In Memory Honor Roll” may be inscribed on the wall.

“We honored him when he died, but his death was a result of his service to his country. They have admitted it. He did die as a result of this exposure,” Poland said. “He deserves this tribute. He deserves to be on the wall.”


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