The day the citation memorialized; the day when the man, bleeding from a head wound caused by shrapnel, “was personally responsible for silencing six enemy troops”. The citation was drafted in July and delivered in September for an event that happened in March. Fifty-seven years later late on a Friday afternoon on a cold, drab, grey Ohio day, the man told his wife the story:
Of how he caught the sniper’s bullet out of the corner of the tree tops to his left, as it spliced through the throat of the man to his right;
Of how he gave that man his morphine, knowing he would soon die;
Of how he immediately unloaded his magazine against those trees until he heard the decisive thud of the enemy he felled;
Of how he hefted his dying buddy with one hand onto his shoulder and “beat feet” to safer ground, even as blood gushed from his own head; dragging him, he said, would have been too slow, violating the four-step, four-second rule. In war, you only get three counts and Gary hadn’t ducked fast enough;
Of how that incident was in the midst of a tenacious five and half hour firefight in the hot hilly jungle.
He only told his wife the middle part of the story, where he pulled Gary back. Of how, with help from his buddy Fletcher, he then directed fully automatic fire across the entire area in a relentless fit of rage, bravery, and justice.
This was not the Green Rain. It was also not the Bambo clump. These details would be shared later, in pieces that needed to be carefully stitched together. There were five more enemy troops not yet accounted for.
His wife knew March 21st was sacred. It was the Bronze Star with Valor Day never talked about. It was a day and event without a back story. Her husband always grew moody and more silent as the date approached. Tensions ran high, every year. As long as she had known him, he and “Big” Fletch, so nicknamed after the man’s firstborn son arrived in 1984, called or visited that day. Once the men reconnected, the hidden suffering became manageable, sort of.
Fletch sustained significant wounds, losing parts of his upper arm. Another man, whom he helped carry to the medivac chopper, lost part of his skull, his right eye, and sustained machine gun rounds that pierced his body from his lower left leg to his upper right shoulder. The man confessed to his wife that no one thought this guy would make it. He surprised her by saying he went sailing outside San Francisco with the man who lost part of his skull shortly after returning stateside from the jungle.
The day after the revelation, this man emerged from the garage with two large flower pots, which he sheepishly handed to his wife for placement inside. In the 20th century, March 21 was the first day of spring.
It seems fitting that decades later, this man who had single-handedly silenced six enemy troops and remained silent suddenly opted to plant spring bulbs for his wife.
When asked to explain the significance of his sudden revelations, he said without hesitation: “Perseverance and Love. Love of Life”.
His wife would say that inside the heart of every honest warrior is a soul who loves unconditionally and knows exactly the price paid for crossing the line, taking another’s life, and soldiering on to make the world a more just and beautiful place amidst a lot of crap and chaos.
Everyone has a story.
