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On Memorial Day, some Alaskans remember loved ones who died from chemical exposure long after they served

Shelby Herbert
/
KUAC
Benno Cleveland, a veteran of the Vietnam War, stands over his own burial plot at the Birch Hill Cemetery in Fairbanks on May 16, 2026

On a nippy spring morning at Birch Hill Cemetery in Fairbanks, this reporter found herself standing on Benno Cleveland’s gravesite, which he had picked out himself. But Cleveland brushed off the apology, saying he didn’t mind — and would feel the same way even on his burial day.

“I hope they all do a happy dance for me right here,” he said.

Standing in the spot where he plans to spend eternity, he held onto an eagle feather for the strength and courage to speak, he said.

“This is hallowed ground, this is sacred ground,” Cleveland said. “Occasionally I'll come out and visit, but not very often.”

Cleveland is Iñupiaq and served in the Vietnam War, receiving two Purple Hearts.

He chose to be buried between his father, who served in World War II, and James Akhivana, a friend and fellow Vietnam veteran.

During their service, Cleveland and Akhivana were exposed to Agent Orange, an herbicide the U.S. government used to remove dense tree cover during the war. The chemical’s effects on human health were not fully understood — or publicly acknowledged — for many years. Now, it’s associated with cancer, nerve damage, diabetes, and other long-term illnesses that affect hundreds of thousands of Vietnam veterans, including Cleveland.

He manages his conditions, including heart disease, with dozens of prescribed medications every day. Altogether, the bottles barely fit into a gallon-sized ziplock bag.

Akhivana, Cleveland’s friend, died a few years ago — officially of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, or COPD, though friends and family said they believe Agent Orange had a role. On this Memorial Day, Cleveland hopes Americans remember veterans like Akhivana.

“There is a saying that goes, ‘I was killed in Vietnam, just haven't died yet,’” he said. “And that pertains to those that have been affected with Agent Orange.”

Akhivana’s widow, Garnett Akhivana, said she feels the pain of her husband’s death deeply on Memorial Day. She remembers her late husband as a kind man with a big, warm laugh. She said he deployed to Vietnam in his 30s and looked out for the young men in his unit, who called him Grandpa.

Garnett Akhivana holds a picture of her with her late husband, James Akhivana, at the River City Cafe in Fairbanks on May 15, 2026.
Shelby Herbert
/
KUAC
Garnett Akhivana holds a picture of her with her late husband, James Akhivana, at the River City Cafe in Fairbanks on May 15, 2026.

Akhivana said it was hard for James to adjust to life back home. Things like war films and even the sound of jets overhead would take him straight back to Vietnam.

“He couldn't watch Pearl Harbor or anything like that, because he would end up on the floor,” she said. “He would say, ‘They're coming, I heard those bombs.’”

Akhivana says life has been hard without him, between her grief, financial struggles, and trying to navigate the Veterans Affairs system.

Their story is hardly rare in Alaska, home to the nation’s highest population of veterans per capita.

Anne Masker moved to the state with her husband and high school sweetheart, Willard, after his service in Vietnam. She said he didn’t talk much about the war when he got home, but he found refuge in Alaska’s wilderness — sailing around Resurrection Bay, and hunting in the Wrangell Mountains.

“His favorite thing was scrambling around looking for Dall sheep,” Masker said. “My assumption is that he went for the peace.”

Willard Masker succumbed to Agent Orange-related vascular dementia a few years ago. But his widow said it felt like she lost him years before he died.

“The kinds of things that he loved to do, he couldn't do,” Masker said. “So he would spend literally hours in his recliner with the clicker, watching TV, watching sports, watching this and that, then drifting off.”

She said this time of year always brings back memories of the life they shared.

“I miss him every day, and Memorial Day will probably magnify that,” Masker said. “But I'm so proud of him and who he was, and of the many people we knew, and people we lost.”

Looking back on his life and service, Benno Cleveland echoes that sentiment.

“I'm one of the fortunate ones,” he said. “It's about our soldiers that gave their lives, so that we as a people can live our lives freely the way we choose to and how we want to.”

He said he’s preparing a speech for the community’s annual Memorial Day ceremony to honor the service members who gave their lives for their country — whether in wartime or decades after they served.

This story was produced by the American Homefront Project, a public media collaboration that reports on American military life and veterans.

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