Here is what happened on April 23, 1971, the day of the medal ceremony: First, Kerry had been in Washington for over a week organizing the Vietnam Veterans Against the War march on Washington. Before that he had been fundraising in New York City. His medals had been left back in Waltham, Mass. What he had brought with him, and often wore, were his ribbons. This made perfect sense. His medals were too clunky to wear on his Navy blues. When Kerry testified before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on April 22, for example, he wore his ribbons, not his medals. Throughout the week of Dewey Canyon III, the White House was worried sick about the medal-returning ceremony. Its main fear was that VVAW was going to abandon the Capitol and hurl them over the White House gate instead. President Nixon and his advisors considered having a U.S. military representative accept the medals in front of the White House -- such a gesture would ensure there was no violence or wild TV images. But historian Tom Wells, in "The War Within," explains that Gen. Don Hughes, Nixon's chief military aide, found the idea repulsive. Meanwhile, the word "throwaway" jarred veterans worldwide. Many were insulted by the prospect. "I did not admire the throwing of medals on the steps because I did not believe it was appropriate when so many brave men and women had sacrificed in order to get those same medals," former POW John McCain told me in 2003. "John [Kerry] and I later became great friends. But I never addressed this one issue with him directly."

While McCain's sentiment was held by many sailors, particularly careerists, others on active duty cheered VVAW onward. In "Who Spoke Up? American Protest Against the War in Vietnam, 1963-1975," Nancy Zaroulis and Gerald Sullivan detail how much internal sabotage was going on within the Navy. In 1971 alone, 488 cases were reported (191 sabotage, 135 arson, 162 wrongful destruction). Stories of "fragging" also became widespread. Angry GIs sought revenge on officers and men in their platoons or units. The Nixon administration feared widespread mutiny.

So, as its closing salvo, VVAW, in a carefully planned action, had 800 veterans congregate near the Capitol's front steps. Jack Smith of West Hartford, Conn., a Marine Corps veteran, read a statement explaining why men who earned Purple Hearts and Bronze Stars were now giving them back to the government. For over two hours, men hurled their medals and ribbons over the fence toward a statue of John Marshall, the first chief justice of the United States. Dramatically, veterans from all branches of the armed services broadcast their names, units and citations, and then rid themselves of their mementos in disgust.

Words cannot properly describe the chilling effect the event had on the speakers and participants. Each soldier had his own horror story that had brought him to this precipice. As an antiwar action -- or a piece of street theater -- it was a powerful demonstration. But it was more than that. The bitterness and rage exhibited by these soldiers ripped at the nation's conscience. Anybody who heard, for instance, Paul F. Winters pray for forgiveness as he hurled his Silver Star, Distinguished Cross and Bronze Star over a fence and then watched him limp away was forever scarred by the memory.

Some men, however, were not quite so dramatic. They gave only their first name and a calm statement: "Robert, New York, and I symbolically return all Vietnam medals and other service medals given me by the power structure that has genocidal policies." Others vented their spleens, which were bursting with defiance: "Here's a bunch of bullshit," one veteran shouted as he hurled a handful of medals.

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