Bergdahl's Idaho hometown shellshocked but unwavering

A LETTER FROM HAILEY, IDAHO

The Wood River Valley doesn't seem real. A sparkling river indeed runs through it, cutting a lazy serpentine path between undulating hills. Jagged peaks, the Sawtooths, loom in the distance, still capped with snow.

Little wonder generations have come here to recreate in summer and winter, my family included. But this trip is different. I arrived to take the pulse of a town that normally this time of year would be on the happy cusp of a tourist-filled summer.

Instead, a chill runs through it.

For five years now, Hailey and Ketchum, its neighbor 11 miles to the north, have kept vigil for native son Bowe Bergdahl, the American sergeant who one week ago was released from Taliban captivity. Parties literally erupted on Main Street, where yellow ribbons dot almost every sign and lamppost.

But soon the backlash began, mostly from citizens and politicians living outside this small county (population 22,000), a largely liberal outpost in traditionally conservative Idaho. Bowe wasn't worth trading five high-ranking Taliban for because he may have deliberately walked off his post in Afghanistan, the voices cried. Bowe didn't deserve a celebration. Shame on Hailey.

The small Western town went from sheer jubilation to shock. A party for Bergdahl — scheduled for June 28 and featuring an appearance by Carole King, one of many celebrities who have homes in and around fabled Sun Valley near Ketchum — was promptly canceled due to safety concerns.

Shopkeepers whose photos were disseminated by the media masses that flocked here last week received nasty calls and e-mails. The Chamber of Commerce got so many negative rants it decided to forward all calls to voice mail. Residents who had once gladly expressed their joy over a hometown son's return went silent.

Although the sun shines, sadness reigns. And a sense of puzzlement.

"When Rolling Stone (writer Michael Hastings) wrote a piece on Bowe (in 2012), it mentioned the possibility that Bowe may have just walked off (his base)," says Tony Evans, who has covered the Bergdahl saga since the beginning for the Idaho Mountain Express. "I expected there to be an outcry over that issue then. But we heard nothing, implying that no one cared. So why the furor now?"

Evans lives across the street from Zaney's, a cafe where Bergdahl once worked and whose owner, Sue Martin, has been a local mainstay in the campaign to bring Bergdahl home. Her shop, along with many others here, sports posters reading "Welcome Home Bowe" and "Our Prayers Have Been Answered."

But Martin herself isn't answering the door. The store was closed during a recent visit, with a note referring reporters to Blaine County Commissioner Larry Schoen.

"The community here is shaken by the negative reaction, but remains undivided in its support for Bowe and his parents, Bob and Jani," says Schoen. "My main message is, people should not rush to judgment."

As my photographer and I canvass this shaken town for voices, one sentiment — whether delivered on or frequently off the record — echoes: The U.S. military has every right to conduct its investigation of Bergdahl's disappearance, but that in no way will impact the way this community will view the boy who danced in its ballets, worked in its eateries and wandered its majestic mountains.

Says Schoen: "When he does return, those here who know and love Bowe will welcome him back with open arms."