My Hero
I want to pay special tribute to all the members from A company 1st BTN 6th INF who fought next to my hero, my dad, in Vietnam. Many men did not make it home like he did. He often tells stories, some good, some bad, of the times he had with you all, his brothers. I see smiles and sadness as he talks about you. I thank you for all you did and for helping to bring my dad home. I send my love and gratefulness to all of you. He is a wonderful man, my father, and he thinks of you all often and with such pride that he served with you. Thank you for your sacrifice which allowed him to be here today and thank you to all vets, who are putting their lives on the line every day for us. I pray for your safety and I send my love and gratitude for you always.
Dear Lord, We pray for blessings on this assembly of extraordinary men and women,
who did things most people don't want to do,
went to places we would never want to visit,
and lived at length in uncomfortable surroundings we can't even imagine.
They did what they did from devotion
to their country's freedom, honor and reputation.
They endured difficult service
because they are exceptional people,
a cut above the rest of us,
who live safe, comfortable lives.
We pray that you will bless them mightily, Lord.
Lavish on them now
abundant comforts and pleasures
they so often did without.
We pray that our country
will always honor their service
expressing frequently profuse gratitude
for their service to keep us safe and free.
In Jesus' name we pray; Amen.
- Katee Girling
Korea, 1952
I finally convinced the Western Union man to release the telegram to me instead of my parents. I had already decided that it was bad news concerning my youngest brother, Bob. He was a rifleman in Korea, involved in the First Marine Division's savage battle for Bunker Hill, a strange location.
I knew the message could be only one of three things -- he'd been killed, wounded, or was missing. I prayed for a shred of hope, for one of the latter possibilities. But my young, handsome brother was dead My only solace was that he died for his country, doing what he had chosen to do. According to his commanding offficer, he died quickly and painlessly.
This story has been repeated thousands of times, a result of our many wars. What makes it unique are the experiences my dad and I went through as a result.
My dad was serving in the Army when his son died in Korea. Although a Provost Sergeant in Trieste, Yugoslavia (August 1952), he had served a tour of duty as an escort for many servicemen's remains. He asked and was granted permission to escort his son to his final resting place at Fort Snelling National Cemetery.
It wasn't something every father would have handled well, but ours was a military family; we lived daily with the possibility of death.
Father and departed son rode the train together from San Francisco. I believe the ride was Dad's opportunity to meditate and grieve. It must have been, because he was solid as a rock when he joined his family in St. Paul. His strength and peace pulled us through the most traumatic experience of our lives.
Strangely, the emotional intensity of Bob's death and funeral didn't fully surface until 40 years later. An old friend told me that Bob's name was etched in gold into the black granite walls of the Ramsey County Courthouse, among the names of all Ramsey County men who had died in U.S. battles.
At first, visions of Washington's Vietnam Memorial and knowledge of it's profound emotional power kept me away.
After 40 years, I did not want to permanently loose emotions that already slipped from the recesses of my mind to haunt me each Christmas.
That black wall must be magnetized; I couldn't stay away! Yet, I wondered how I would behave if I did go? Pride and curiosity prevailed. Alone, I slowly climed the stairway to the third floor, where in the marble walls were etched the names of those who had died in Korea.
His name shown like light intself. ROBERT EVERETT STAFFORD was carved in bright gold on shining black stone.
I felt the past pulling me back those 40 years. This time, the tears were not of pain or sorrow. Instead, I cried because I was proud of my brother's courage -- and pleased that society had chosen to remember him.
- Dick Stafford
Sgt. Edward Oden King (Eddie)
Sgt. Edward Oden King, (Eddie) graduated from Oklahoma State University in the early 1960's. He majored in business and minored in photography. Early on, he decided that he was needed in the military and would get that over first, before starting a business. He found that the USAF was badly in need of combat photographers, so away he went.
He took pictures of things that no human should have to see. I know, being his brother, I saw some. He served with great honor and determination, but never recovered from wounds both mental and physical recieved there doing his duty.
This Memorial Day he will be remembered by all of his friends and family, not only for serving with valor and honor, but being ready to help anyone at any time, if he was able, and he did so much of the time.
- Anonymous