On Veterans Day this year, family and friends remembered a Vietnam vet from Baileyville who, after the war, dedicated his life to having the federal government acknowledge its responsibility for the illnesses suffered by veterans that were caused by Agent Orange, the toxic chemical that the military sprayed in Vietnam. Brian Manza, who was among the hundreds of thousands of veterans exposed to the defoliant, not only helped in raising awareness about the health effects caused by Agent Orange and in causing the government to approve disability benefits and large chemical companies to award compensation to veterans but was instrumental in having the first memorial in the country to honor Agent Orange victims erected in Baileyville. He ended up dying from illnesses caused by the herbicide a dozen years ago.

A secret of codes
     "It's a sad story," Brian's older brother Joe says, looking back over his brother's life. Joe, who now lives in Alexander, recalls that in 1967 he was working at the Woodland mill when Brian, who had just graduated from high school, and John Dow went into the U.S. Army at the same time. Joe also had been drafted and was to report to Fort Dix, but two days before Brian left on November 1 he told Joe that he was to stay home, since he had a full-time job. "He took Joe's place," Dow relates.
     Brian went into the infantry, was sent to Vietnam "and ended up in the 1968 Tet Offensive at 18 years old," says Dow. He was a booby-trap specialist, out in front of his squad looking for the trip wires, punji sticks, bamboo whips, cartridge and tiger traps that wounded or killed many soldiers. He also had to do body counts, and Joe notes that the experiences had a profound impact on Brian. "He didn't want to talk about it. He never bragged about what was going on."
     Michael Foggia of Baring, who was a lifelong friend of Brian and served in Vietnam about the same time, says that Brian "was in the thick of it" during his tour with the infantry. "He had a hard row of it," agrees Dow, who now lives in Grand Lake Stream. "He went through hell." Dow relates that Brian earned a Bronze Star for heroism during combat but turned it down. "He was never the same" after his service, and then "a few years later his health went to hell."
     That slow deterioration of his health was caused by his exposure to Agent Orange, a chemical defoliant that the U.S. military used in Vietnam to destroy the forest cover and food crops used by the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong troops. The dioxin in Agent Orange is a carcinogen, and after the war the herbicide was proven to cause serious health issues, including cancer, birth defects and severe psychological and neurological problems.
     While Brian had been in Vietnam, friends at the helicopter pads would give him information with orders they had been given for how to mix Agent Orange in the 55-gallon orange drums and where to spray it. Brian would send letters with that information to his brother Joe back home, never putting a return address on the mail, which Joe saved in a briefcase. Also, before he went into the Army, Brian and Joe were introduced to a man from Australia, who Brian later visited while he was in Vietnam. Brian would also send him letters with addresses of who to forward them to, including two cousins he had back home. When they received the mail, they would call Joe, who would eventually get the letters.
     One day, though, Joe found out that federal postal inspectors were waiting for him at his home, and they asked him if he knew people in Vietnam. He replied that he had friends and classmates and a brother over there. The two brothers then had a system of codes to alert Brian for when it was safe to send letters. Joe relates, "I would tell Brian I'm going on vacation," which meant he should stop sending mail to him, and he would use his friend in Australia. "Going to Bangor shopping" meant it was safe again.
     Eventually Brian was shipped back to Fort Carson, Colo., where he was on the Army's boxing and running teams. He was discharged in 1969.
     Later, in the 1980s, Congress finally began looking into the effects of Agent Orange and whether disability benefits should be extended to veterans who were exposed to the toxin. Senators George Mitchell and John Kerry "were Brian's representatives in D.C.," Joe relates. At that time, a Maine state trooper came to Joe's home, and he gave the trooper the information about the amounts of Agent Orange that were sprayed in Vietnam and who gave the orders, so the state police could take the information to the offices of the senators. While Brian was in Washington, D.C., to testify as a witness before Congress about Agent Orange, someone broke into his hotel room and went through his luggage. "They didn't find anything. George Mitchell had it all," Joe recalls.

‘Vietnam War lives on’
     Before Congress took up the issue, though, after the war Brian saw "all the other guys he was with died from cancer," according to Dow. Brian was one of 11 signers of the Agent Orange pact, a group of people who stepped up to fight the government about the effects of the defoliant. "He was one of the first people to fight the government for compensation, and they denied it for years," says Dow. "He was possessed by it."
     He drove a black Chevy truck displaying an orange sign with a skull and crossbones and black lettering proclaiming "Agent Orange Kills" and "The Vietnam War Lives On." He also had an orange car with similar statements, and he and other veterans would travel the country to raise awareness about Agent Orange and to support Vietnam veterans. "He was all over the U.S. -- Detroit, New York, Florida," relates Joe, who helped his brother by typing letters for him late into the night. "He was in a lot of demonstrations and parades. That was his life after high school. It took over."
     Of his efforts to raise awareness about Agent Orange, Foggia says, "He was one of the first to start the ball rolling on it." One day they both attended a gathering that Galen Cole had organized in Bangor and at which General William Westmoreland, who commanded the U.S. forces during the early years of the Vietnam War, spoke. "Brian went after him so bad I thought we were all going to get arrested," Foggia remembers. About his friend, he recalls, "He agitated a lot of people, but he persevered."
     Joe agrees that his brother did have a great deal of perseverance. When he was in high school, Brian had been a state cross country champion and star basketball player. Later, he was good friends with Dale Lincoln of Perry, and the two runners started the Sunrise County Roadrunners. As a cross country runner, who ran the Pikes Peak and the Boston marathons, Brian was "an individual in a way," Joe observes.
     A real athlete, he ended up, though, suffering from the effects of Agent Orange, developing lupus, Reiter's syndrome, post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and other ailments, and he spent "a lot of time in the VAs -- Daytona, Florida, Arizona, West Roxbury and Togus," Joe remembers of the Veterans Administration hospitals.
     Dow notes that Brian never married "because of his health and because his mind was possessed" by the challenge of raising awareness about what Agent Orange had done. "It ruined his body," says Dow. "He walked like an old man."
     Foggia points out that Brian "had an adversarial relationship with the VA," since they didn't like his Agent Orange advocacy efforts. The federal government didn't want to own up to the harm caused by the chemical, and veterans felt that the government had turned its back on them. In 1979 a class-action lawsuit was filed on behalf of 2.4 million veterans exposed to Agent Orange during Vietnam. The $180 million out-of-court settlement with seven large chemical companies was challenged over the years until the U.S. Supreme Court in 1988 confirmed the settlement, which had then risen to over $240 million. Then in 1991 Congress passed the Agent Orange Act, which allowed for disability benefits for eligible Vietnam veterans. A class-action lawsuit filed by Vietnamese citizens against the chemical companies, though, has been dismissed in U.S. courts.
     Of Brian's role in the legal and political fight, Foggia comments, "He was largely responsible for the benefits" that veterans received for exposure to Agent Orange. Foggia, who was also exposed to the chemical in Vietnam, notes that he ended up being one of the veterans who benefited from Brian's advocacy work, as he had prostate cancer in 2008, with Agent Orange listed as the presumptive cause, and he was able to qualify for 40% disability with the VA.
     Brian was among those who received a check as part of the Agent Orange Settlement Fund Payment Program, "but he never wanted to use it till the rest of his friends got it. He called it blood money," Joe relates. The check was never cashed. "Brian stood on his principles," he says, and the check expired.

Memorial honors veterans and victims
     Brian also was instrumental in having the Washington County Vietnam Veterans Memorial erected in 1988 in the Veterans' Park in Baileyville. It was the first memorial in the country to honor Agent Orange victims. The two large, rough-cut granite stones are meant to resemble the torn pages from a remembrance book and the controversy surrounding the Vietnam War. One of the stones honors the Vietnam veterans from Washington County; the second stone recognizes those who suffered and died from their exposure to Agent Orange, stating in part, "We pray that the horror and destruction unleashed by the use of such lethal substances will never be repeated." At the bottom is a quote from Theodore Roosevelt: "A man who is good enough to shed his blood for his country is good enough to be given a square deal afterward."
     At the time they were erected, Brian was quoted in a newspaper article noting that he had lost many good friends from the chemical toxin. "We're not looking for a free ride, just an honest acceptance of the facts. Just acknowledging what happened will be therapeutic." He noted that the memorial is both for the veterans and the people of the area, thanking them for their concern and unselfishness. "I hope people all over the country will see what these people have done and finally welcome the Vietnam vets home. That's been our dream. That's all we ask."
     Foggia estimates that it would have cost perhaps $100,000 to get the memorial stones made and erected, but Brian managed to have all of the work donated by dozens of people over a two-year period. Foggia, as a civil engineer who designed the foundation for the stones, says it's so solid that "they won't go anywhere." He adds, "They'll be there when Woodland's gone."
     While the Baileyville Town Council had previously approved the placement of the stones, Foggia says, "They didn't think he could pull it off." Members of the American Legion post in Woodland, who were mostly WWII and Korean War veterans, were not pleased, as it was felt that the large stones overshadowed the American Legion memorial in the park, and there was tension between them and the Vietnam veterans. The memorial never ended up being dedicated.
     After a 40-year battle, Brian Manza ended up dying from the afflictions he suffered from Agent Orange on December 22, 2008, at the age of 59. Joe is still hoping that at some point a dedication ceremony will be held.
     Of his brother, Joe says, "He tried not to bother anybody, but he stood up for what he believed in. He wanted a square deal for him and his friends."
     Remembering back over all the years since they went into the Army together and fought in Vietnam, Dow reflects while sitting at dusk in his home after an early November day of hunting, with a strong, freshening breeze coming off West Grand Lake, and observes, "He was a patriot. He felt good about getting drafted. I think those days are gone."
     Listening to the haunting, low roar of the wind in the trees, he pauses a bit, thinking about the war and how it changed the course of their lives. "You do what you're asked, and he did that, and he paid for it with his life, and he slowly died."
     As the enduring wind whispers outside in the darkness, he adds with a note of sadness in his voice, "I think about him a lot."