My Memorial Day weekends typically have involved marching in
the annual parade in my community, giving a speech on the necessity of
remembering those who fell protecting our freedoms, writing speeches for other
speakers, or heading up the Buddy Poppy sales for my local veterans
organizations.
We usually have a cookout at the Winter household, because
we also acknowledge that it is the informal beginning of the summer season and
we love to indulge in our hard won freedoms by doing what we like to do. And I
always, ALWAYS, remember my brother Marines, those I served with in Medium
Helicopter Squadron 161 – HMM-161 – who died in Vietnam, or afterward.
This year there will be no speeches or parades for me. I
can't march after being injured in an auto collision three years ago, suffering
debilitating back injuries as a result. I won't be doing speeches, partly
because of the same reason, but also because I am up to my eye teeth in getting
ready for a reunion of the remaining members of my helicopter squadron. These
are the people I served with in New River, North Carolina in '66 and '67, and who
took part in our historic flight from North Carolina to California in April
1968, and on from there to Quang Tri, Vietnam.
And herein for me is the true meaning of Memorial Day this
year. One of my reunion planning jobs has been contacting people who served
with us so long ago, informing them of the coming reunion and getting
information out to them. There were approximately 200 Marines in our squadron
when we landed in Vietnam, and in past reunions roughly half of them have
attended.
During our tour we lost 20 Marines out of the 200 in combat,
dozens more were wounded, and over the years our numbers have been whittled
down due to the deaths of many of our leaders, most of whom had also served in
WWII and Korea. In those cases, I have accepted that time marches on and we are
not immortal. There also are many who simply dropped out of sight in the years
after the war and extraordinary efforts to locate them have been fruitless.
But this year I have found time and time again that an old
friend and brother-in-arms has died, or is unable to attend due to injuries and
sicknesses that have come far too early in their lives, often as a result of
combat or exposure to toxins in the war zone. The impact of these sudden
revelations, that we will no longer see a person who was such an integral part
of our lives, has not been gentle; in fact it has been brutal.
But to a great degree that has been offset by the knowledge
that we who have survived will be enjoying each others company for a long
weekend, and will be providing the venue for the family of at least one of our
fallen Marines to attain some aspect of closure.
It has been very difficult for the families of those we lost
in combat to come to grips with the deaths of men who in many cases were barely
out of their teens, and in many other cases were only at the doorstep of adulthood.
To send a young man off to war and to receive only a metal coffin and flag in
return does little to nothing to resolve the issues that the families have
endured.
But this year we also will be joined by the sister of one of
our fallen Marines and her family. And this year she finally will meet many of
the people who were close to her brother and were there when he died.
She will meet people who knew an entirely different side of
the young man she grew up with and I am certain that she will be pleased to
discover that we also saw him as intelligent, warm and humorous, in addition to
respecting him immensely as a Marine helicopter crewman.
There is little to nothing I can do this year to offset the
ravages of time or reverse what has happened to so many of my brother Marines. Yet, helping one family put to rest some of the questions that have lingered
since Vietnam will be a worthwhile endeavor.
And before our gathering in June, I will take some time this
Memorial Day to maintain my long-standing tradition of saluting an honor roll
of the deceased - an honor roll that continues to grow longer with each passing year. Semper Fidelis.
