I consider myself to be one of the luckiest men on Earth, given that I graduated from high school during the height of a bloody war in a faraway land … and lived to talk about it and to build a wonderful life with my family.
Memorial Day is upon us. We will remember those who fell on the field of battle while serving the nation they all loved. We’ll fire up the grills in the yard, play with our children and grandchildren. Some of us might even take a moment to remember outwardly the individuals who deserve our eternal gratitude.
My graduation class included 300 or so young men and women. We received our diplomas during the Summer of Love … which was 1967. The Vietnam War was killing a lot of young Americans at that time. Many of us got our notification that our country needed our service. I was one of them. I reported for induction in August 1968. I finished my basic training and my advanced individual training (as an Army OV-1 Mohawk airplane mechanic), and then I was en route to DaNang, South Vietnam.
One little note before I move on. I was one of those who many referred to as a REMF. The first two letters of the acronym stand for “rear echelon.” I’ll leave the second set of letters for you to figure out. The bad guys would shell us occasionally with mortars and even rockets. My REMF designation, though, did not insulate me from the tragedy of war. I did lose someone I knew to that killing quagmire. He served on an Army UH-1 Huey helicopter crew. When they went into battle, he strapped himself into an M-60 machine gun.
In the summer of 1969, Joe De La Torre scrambled for a flight to take troops to a landing zone. The LZ happened to be “hot” that day. The enemy waited for our ships to arrive. They unloaded all their firepower on our guys. De La Torre died in the firefight.
He became a name inscribed on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, which opened in 1982. I’ve seen it twice on the DC Mall. De La Torre is one of 58,000-plus names we remember, along with all those who died in all the fights for our freedom we honor today.
As for my Summer of Love graduating class, here’s another stroke of luck. To my knowledge, we didn’t lose anyone from the Parkrose (Ore.) High Class of 1967 to that war. Many of my friends got the call, as I did. They were Marines, soldiers, sailors and airmen. My best high school friend served with the Coast Guard and he, too, ended up patrolling the coast of Vietnam. They all came home … and for that I always will be grateful.
Let’s all take time today between bites of brisket and swigs of cold beverage to honor the sacrifice that enables us to enjoy the fruits of our lives.