A little more than 50 years ago, the USS Pueblo was commandeered by North Korea. One man died. The remaining crew of 82 was held captive for 11 months. The ship’s skipper, Commander Lloyd Bucher, was tortured, both physically and mentally, and threatened with death. When the crew was finally released, Bucher faced a military trial for giving up the ship without a fight. To this day, the Pueblo is held by North Korea.
The trial of Bucher captivated the nation, and as we do today, people took sides, for or against. It was 1968. The modern feminist movement was just beginning. My mother was 38 years old and dedicated to raising her three kids. Her sensibilities were typical of those of her generation. She was never going to be on the cover of Life magazine with Gloria Steinem. Yet she was moved by the story of Bucher, moved by his humanity. So much so that she felt compelled to write about it, to come to the defense of the so-called stronger man. Some of her thoughts may not resonate with the 21st century woman, but there is a truth that she expresses that is timeless. It is this:
The world is a better place when we’re not afraid to show compassion.
Commander Bucher, commander of the Pueblo, has finished his testimony about the capture of his ill-fated ship and I, for one, am glad. If ever a man had strong convictions that he had performed his duty to the best of his ability, it is him. When the Court of Inquiry first began putting him on the witness stand, I was so outraged that I wanted to wire the President to stop this seemingly inhuman treatment of Bucher. I was stopped by the announcement from the Commander’s lawyer that he knew this was military procedure and he did not feel that the court was being unduly cruel.
The point of relating this story is that once again my emotions had to be stifled. My compassion had to remain bottled up because I had, in effect, been asked to believe that a man can “take it”, no matter what, just because he is a man.
Women are supposed to be the weaker sex and I am glad that there are a few of us who glory in this title.
The men of the court are to be pitied as much as Commander Bucher because surely every one of them has had some misgivings about some of the questions put to the Commander. They had to do their job. They had to follow the rules, no matter how much their hearts were touched. They had to listen objectively as this man related in public how much he loved his wife and called her name when he thought he was going to die.
I’m glad to be a woman. I can cry without being called weak. I can make mistakes and know that people can excuse some of them because, after all, I’m a woman.
I do not understand the laws of the sea. I do not pretend to know many things. But there’s one thing I do know. I saw a real man in the form of Commander Bucher.
Men, as a rule, pretend that they cannot understand why a woman cries when the Star Spangled Banner is played. Or why she cries when she receives an unexpected gift. But I suspect they really know and have the same feelings, but because they are men, they are supposed to shrug their shoulders at any show of emotion.
The best Christmas I ever had was when I was twelve years old. My mother took me and my brother to the photographer’s studio and all three of us had our pictures made for our father. Christmas morning, when he opened the pictures he was so overcome with the simplicity of the gifts, so overcome with the love he knew we had for him, that he shed tears of joy and love. He offered no apologies for his show of emotion and I was proud of my daddy.
I am certain that most men are sympathetic to Commander Bucher because he has shown that it is not a crime to give vent to emotions through tears.
I do not advocate a nation of hysterical men, but I do say that a mark of a true man is his ability to show compassion for his fellow man.
Yes, I am glad to be a woman.
copyright 1968, gloria clatworthy bird