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(UPDATED WHENEVER I FEEL LIKE IT - BUT USUALLY ON TUESDAYS AND FRIDAYS)
May 27, 2005 - MEMORIAL DAY SPECIAL 
 
"They never fail who die in a great cause." Lord Byron
 
*********** Memorial Day, once known as Decoration Day, was originally set aside to honor the men who died in the Civil War. (There was a time when certain southern states did not observe it, preferring instead to observe their own Memorial Days to honor Confederate war dead.)
 
The Civil War soldiers called it "seeing the elephant." It meant experiencing combat. They started out cocky, but soon learned how suddenly horrible - how unforgiving and inescapable - combat could be. By the end of the Civil War 620,000 of them on both sides lay dead. Hundreds of thousands of civilians were left dead or homeless.

"I have never realized the 'pomp and circumstance' of glorious war before this," a Confederate soldier bitterly wrote, "Men...lying in every conceivable position; the dead...with eyes open, the wounded begging piteously for help."

"All around, strange mingled roar - shouts of defiance, rally, and desperation; and underneath, murmured entreaty and stifled moans; gasping prayers, snatches of Sabbath song, whispers of loved names; everywhere men torn and broken, staggering, creeping, quivering on the earth, and dead faces with strangely fixed eyes staring stark into the sky. Things which cannot be told - nor dreamed. How men held on, each one knows, - not I."

Each battle was a story of great courage and audacity, sometimes of miscommunication and foolishness. But it's the casualty numbers that catch our eyes. The numbers roll by and they are hard for us to believe even in these days of modern warfare. Shiloh: 23,741, Seven Days': 36,463, Antietam: 26,134, Fredericksburg: 17,962, Gettysburg: 51,112, and on and on (in most cases, the South named battles after the town that served as their headquarters in that conflict, the North named them after rivers or creeks nearby. So Manassas for the South was Bull Run for the North; Antietam for the Union was Sharpsburg for the Confederacy).

General William T. Sherman looked at the aftermath of Shiloh and wrote, "The scenes on this field would have cured anybody of war."

 
From "Seeing the Elephant" Raw Recruits at the Battle of Shiloh - Joseph Allan Frank and George A. Reaves - New York: Greenwood Press, 1989
 
Probably the best known poem from the Civil War, The Blue and the Gray, by Frances Miles Finch illustrates the truth that as bitterly as the men of the two sides were divided, as ferociously as they fought, the fallen - winner and loser alike - are finally united, "Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day."
 

The Blue and the Gray, by Frances Miles Finch

By the flow of the inland river, 

Whence the fleets of iron have fled, 

Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, 

Asleep on the ranks of the dead; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Under the one, the Blue; 

Under the other, the Gray. 

These in the robings of glory, 

Those in the gloom of defeat; 

All with the battle-blood gory, 

In the dusk of eternity meet; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Under the laurel, the Blue;

Under the willow, the Gray. 

From the silence of sorrowful hours, 

The desolate mourners go, 

Lovingly laden with flowers, 

Alike for the friend and the foe; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Under the roses, the Blue; 

Under the lilies, the Gray. 

So, with an equal splendor, 

The morning sun-rays fall, 

With a touch impartially tender, 

On the blossoms blooming for all; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Broidered with gold, the Blue; 

Mellowed with gold, the Gray. 

So, when the summer calleth, 

On forest and field of grain, 

With an equal murmur falleth 

The cooling drip of the rain; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Wet with the rain, the Blue; 

Wet with the rain, the Gray. 

Sadly, but not with upbraiding, 

The generous deed was done; 

In the storm of the years that are fading, 

No braver battle was won; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Under the blossoms, the Blue; 

Under the garlands, the Gray. 

No more shall the war-cry sever, 

Or the winding rivers be red; 

They banish our anger forever, 

When they laurel the graves of our dead.

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Love and tears for the Blue; 

Tears and love for the Gray. 

*********** Following World War I, Americans began to celebrate the week leading up to Memorial Day as Poppy Week.

It was because of a poem by Major John McCrae, a Canadian surgeon, that the poppy, which burst into bloom all over the once-bloody battlefields of northern Europe, came to symbolize the rebirth of life following the tragedy of war.

 
Long after World War I ended, veterans' organizations in America, Australia and other nations which fought in the war sold imitation poppies at this time of year to raise funds to assist disabled veterans.
 
After having spent seventeen days hearing the screams and dealing with the suffering of men wounded in the bloody battle at Ypres, in Flanders (a part of Belgium) in the spring of 1915, Major McCrae wrote, "I wish I could embody on paper some of the varied sensations of that seventeen days... Seventeen days of Hades! At the end of the first day if anyone had told us we had to spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands and said it could not have been done."

Major McCrae was especially affected by the death of a close friend and former student. Following his burial - which, in the absence of a chaplain, Major McCrae had had to perform - the Major sat in the back of an ambulance and, gazing out at the wild poppies growing in profusion in a nearby cemetery, began to compose a poem, scribbling the words in a notebook as he went.

But when he was done, he discarded it. It was only thanks to the efforts of a fellow officer, who rescued it and sent it to newspapers in England, that it was published.

The poem, "In Flanders Fields", is considered perhaps the greatest of all wartime poems.

The special significance of the poppies is that poppy seeds can lie dormant in the ground for years; only when the soil has been turned over do the poppies flower.

The violence of war had so churned the soil of northern Belgium that by the time Major McCrae wrote his poem, poppies were said to be blossoming in a way that no one could ever remember having seen them do before.

In Flanders Fields... by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

 

MEMORIAL DAY IN OUR LITTLE TOWN - CAMAS, WASHINGTON

It's not the worst thing in the world to live across the street from a cemetery, as we do - not when the cemetery is as beautiful as our town's cemetery is. And it's especially beautiful on Memorial Day and Veterans' Day, when the lush green hilltop is studded with flags and flowers. The tall evergreens, silhouetted against the sky, stand guard in the background.

My wife and I look forward to Memorial Day as the informal kickoff to summer, but also as a reminder that Americans still care.

Every year, the routine is the same: on Saturday a local Boy Scout troop places flags on the graves of veterans at the town cemetery while each Veteran's name is read aloud by a member of the local American Legion post; then, for the rest of the three-day weekend, a steady stream of visitors passes through to place flowers and pay their respects.

 
*********** Robert W. Service is one of my favorite poets, and this poem, about a young Englishman and his loving father, is especially poignant on a day when we remember our people who gave everything, and extend our sympathy to those they left behind.

Young Fellow My Lad by Robert W. Service

"Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, On this glittering morn of May?"

"I'm going to join the Colours, Dad; They're looking for men, they say."

"But you're only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad; You aren't obliged to go."

"I'm seventeen and a quarter, Dad, And ever so strong, you know."

"So you're off to France, Young Fellow My Lad, And you're looking so fit and bright."

"I'm terribly sorry to leave you, Dad, But I feel that I'm doing right."

"God bless you and keep you, Young Fellow My Lad, You're all of my life, you know."

"Don't worry. I'll soon be back, dear Dad, And I'm awfully proud to go."

"Why don't you write, Young Fellow My Lad? I watch for the post each day;

And I miss you so, and I'm awfully sad, And it's months since you went away.

And I've had the fire in the parlour lit, And I'm keeping it burning bright

Till my boy comes home; and here I sit Into the quiet night."

"What is the matter, Young Fellow My Lad? No letter again to-day.

Why did the postman look so sad, And sigh as he turned away?

I hear them tell that we've gained new ground, But a terrible price we've paid:

God grant, my boy, that you're safe and sound; But oh I'm afraid, afraid."

"They've told me the truth, Young Fellow My Lad: You'll never come back again:

(OH GOD! THE DREAMS AND THE DREAMS I'VE HAD, AND THE HOPES I'VE NURSED IN VAIN!)

For you passed in the night, Young Fellow My Lad, And you proved in the cruel test

Of the screaming shell and the battle hell That my boy was one of the best.

"So you'll live, you'll live, Young Fellow My Lad, In the gleam of the evening star,

In the wood-note wild and the laugh of the child, In all sweet things that are.

And you'll never die, my wonderful boy, While life is noble and true;

For all our beauty and hope and joy We will owe to our lads like you."

 
ON MEMORIAL DAY, WE HONOR THE MEN OF THE BLACK LIONS, AND ALL-AMERICA DON HOLLEDER

"THE BIG RED ONE", the 1st Infantry Division, of which the Black Lions are a part, is a very proud U.S. Army division.
 
The 2nd Battalion, 28th Infantry "Black Lions", the U.S. battalion which fought the Battle of Ong Thanh on October 17, 1967, was part of a rich military tradition.

The first U.S. victory of World War I was won when the 28th Infantry Regimentof the !st Division attacked and seized the small French village of CANTIGNY on the 28th of May 1918, earning for The 28th Infantry Regiment the nickname "Black Lions of CANTIGNY".

General John J. Pershing, Commander of the American Expeditionary Forces in World War I, said of the 1st Division: "The Commander-in-Chief has noted in this division a special pride of service and a high state of morale, never broken by hardship nor battle."

These words have never been forgotten by the 1st Infantry Division. All military units seek to be known as special and unique - the best. The 1st Infantry Division has been able, over the many years of its existence, to retain that esprit, and most of those who have served in many different US Army divisions remember the special esprit which the 1st Division was able to imbue throughout its ranks.

LOST AT ONG THANH, VIET NAM, OCTOBER 17, 1967

K I A ... Adkins, Donald W.... Allen, Terry... Anderson, Larry M.... Barker, Gary L.... Blackwell, James L., Jr.... Bolen, Jackie Jr. ... Booker, Joseph O. ... Breeden, Clifford L. Jr ... Camero, Santos... Carrasco, Ralph ... Chaney, Elwood D. Jr... Cook, Melvin B.... Crites, Richard L.... Crutcher, Joe A. ...... Dodson, Wesley E.... Dowling, Francis E.... Durham, Harold B. Jr ... Dye, Edward P. ... East, Leon N.... Ellis, Maurice S.... Familiare, Anthony ... Farrell, Michael J. ...Fuqua, Robert L. Jr. ...Gallagher, Michael J. ...Garcia, Arturo ...Garcia, Melesso ...Gilbert, Stanley D. ...Gilbertson, Verland ...Gribble, Ray N. ...Holleder, Donald W. ...Jagielo, Allen D. ...Johnson, Willie C. Jr ...Jones, Richard W. ...Krischie, John D. ...Lancaster, James E. ...Larson, James E. ...Lincoln, Gary G. ...Lovato, Joe Jr. ...Luberta, Andrew P. ...Megiveron, Emil G. ...Miller, Michael M. ...Moultrie, Joe D. ...Nagy, Robert J. ...Ostroff, Steven L. ...Platosz, Walter ...Plier, Eugene J. ...Porter, Archie ...Randall, Garland J. ...Reece, Ronney D. ...Reilly, Allan V. ...Sarsfield, Harry C. ...Schroder, Jack W. ...Shubert, Jackie E. ...Sikorski, Daniel ...Smith, Luther ...Thomas, Theodore D. Jr. ...Tizzio, Pasquale T. ...Wilson, Kenneth P. .... M I A ... Fitzgerald, Paul ...Hargrove, Olin Jr.

Several years ago, while visiting the First Division (Big Red One) Museum in Wheaton, Illinois I read these lines, and thought of those men...

If you are able

Save a place for them inside of you,

And save one backward glance

When you are leaving for places

They can no longer go.

Be not ashamed to say you loved them,

Though you may or may not always have.

Take what they have left

And what they have taught you with their dying,

And keep it with your own.

And in that time when men feel safe

To call the war insane,

Take one moment to embrace these gentle heroes

You left behind.

by Major Michael D. O'Donnell... shortly before he was killed in action in Vietnam, 1970

DON HOLLEDER - THE MAN WHOSE STORY INSPIRED THE BLACK LION AWARD...
Army's All-American Don Holleder... Donald W. Holleder's name on the Vietnam Wall... Don Holleder as a West Point cadet
A TRIBUTE TO DONALD WALTER HOLLEDER UNITED STATES MILITARY ACADEMY CLASS OF 1956

KILLED ON THE BATTLEFIELD IN VIETNAM 17 OCTOBER 1967

By retired Air Force General Perry Smith (Don Holleder's West Point classmate, roommate and best man)

 "If you doubt the axiom, 'An aggressive leader is priceless,' ...if you prefer the air arm to the infantry in football, if you are not convinced we recruited cadet-athletes of superior leadership potential, then you must hear the story of Donald Walter Holleder. The saga of Holleder stands unique in Army and, perhaps, all college gridiron lore." Hence begins the chapter, "You are my quarterback", in Coach Red Blaik's 1960 book, You Have to Pay the Price. Every cadet in the classes of 1956, 57, 58 and 59, and everyone who was part of the Army family at West Point and throughout the world will remember, even 50 years after the fact, the "Great Experiment". But there is much more to the Holleder story. .

Holly was born and brought up in a tight knit Catholic family in upstate New York. He was an only child whose father died when Don was quite young. Doc Blanchard recruited high school All American Holleder who entered the Point just a few days after he graduated from Aquinas Institute in Rochester. Twice turned out for academic difficulties, he struggled mightily to stay in the Corps. However as a cadet leader he excelled, serving as a cadet captain and company commander of M-2 his senior year.

Of course, it was in the field of athletics that Don is best known. Never a starter on the basketball team, he nevertheless got playing time as a forward who brought rebounding strength to a team that beat a heavily favored Navy team in the early spring of 1954. That fall, the passing combination of Vann to Holleder quickly caught the attention of the college football world. No one who watched those games will ever forget Holly going deep and leaping into the air to grab a perfectly thrown bomb from Peter Vann. Don was a consensus first team All American that year as a junior.

Three football defeats in 1955 after Holly's conversion to quarterback brought criticism of Coach Blaik and Don from many quarters but the dramatic Army victory over Navy, 14 to 6 brought redemption. Shortly thereafter, Holly received the Swede Nelson award for sportsmanship. The fact that he had given up all chances of becoming a two time all-American and a candidate for the Heisman trophy and he did so without protest or complaint played heavily in the decision by the Nelson committee to select him for this prestigious award.

Holly's eleven year career in the Army included the normal schools at Benning and Leavenworth, company command in Korea, coaching and recruiting at West Point and serving as the commanding general's aide at Fortress Monroe. After graduating from Command and General Staff College, he was off to Vietnam.

Arriving in July, 1967, Holly was assigned to the Big Red One--the First Infantry Division-- and had considerable combat experience before that tragic day in the fall--October 17. Lieutenant Colonel Terry Allen's battalion was ambushed and overrun--the troops on the ground were is desperate shape. Holleder was serving as the operations officer of the 28th Brigade--famous Black Lions. Hearing the anguished radio calls for help from the soldiers on the ground, Holly convinced his brigade commander that he had to get on the ground to help. Jumping out of his helicopter, Holly rallied some troops and raced toward the spot where the wounded soldiers were fighting. The Newsweek article a few days after his death tells what happened next. "With the Viet Cong firing from two sides, the U. S. troops now began retreating pell-mell back to their base camp, carrying as many of their wounded as they could, The medic Hinger was among those who staggered out of the bush and headed across an open marshy plain toward the base, 200 meters away. But on the way he ran into big, forceful Major Donald W. Holleder, 33, an All-American football player at West Point..., going the other way--toward the scene of the battle. Holleder, operations officer for the brigade, had not been in the fight until now. ' Come on Doc, he shouted to Hinger, 'There are still wounded in there. I need your help.'

"Hinger said later: 'I was exhausted. But having never seen such a commander, I ran after him. What an officer! He went on ahead of us--literally running to the point position'. Then a burst of fire from the trees caught Holleder. 'He was hit in the shoulder recalled Hinger. 'I started to patch him up, but he died in my arms.' The medic added he had been with Holleder for only three minutes, but would remember the Major's gallantry for the rest of his life." Holly died as he lived: the willingness to make great sacrifices prevailed to the minute of his death.

Caroline was left a young widow. She later married our West Point classmate, Ernie Ruffner, who became a loving husband and father to the four Holleder daughters. All the daughters are happily married and there are eight wonderful and loving grandchildren.

The legacy of Donald Walter Holleder will remain an important part of the West Point story forever. The Holleder Army Reserve Center in Webster, New York, the Holleder Parkway in Rochester and the Holleder Athletic Center at West Point all help further Don's legacy. In 1985, Holly was inducted into College Football Hall of Fame. A 2003 best selling book, They Marched into Sunlight, by David Maraniss tells the story of Holleder and the Black Lions. Tom Hanks has purchased the film rights to the book.

An innovative high school coach, Hugh Wyatt, decide to further memorialize Don's legacy by establishing the Black Lion Award. Each year at hundreds of high schools, middle schools and youth football programs across the country, a single football player on each team is selected "who best exemplifies the character of Don Holleder: leadership, courage, devotion to duty, self-sacrifice, and--above all--an unselfish concern for his team ahead of himself." Starting in 2005, this award is presented to a member of the Army football team each year.

Anyone who wishes to extend Holleder's legacy can do so by approaching their local football coaches and encouraging them to make the Black Lion Award a part of their tradition. Coach Hugh Wyatt can be contacted by e mail (coachwyatt@aol.com).

All West Pointers can be proud of Donald Walter Holleder; for him there were no impossible dreams, only challenges to seek out and to conquer. Forty years after his death thousands of friends and millions of fans still remember him and salute him for his character and supreme courage.

By Retired Air Force General Perry Smith, classmate and roommate, with great assistance from Don's family members, Stacey Jones and Ernie Ruffner, classmates, Jerry Amlong, Peter Vann and JJ McGinn, and battlefield medic, Doc Hinger.
 

*********** A YOUNG MEN'S REMEMBRANCES OF DON HOLLEDER...

In 1954-55 I lived at West Point N.Y. where my father was stationed as a member of the staff at the United States Military Academy.

Don Holleder was an All American end on the Red Blaik coached Army football team which was a perennial eastern gridiron power in 40s and 50s. On Fall days I would run home from the post school, drop off my books, and head directly to the Army varsity practice field which overlooked the Hudson River and was only a short sprint from my house.

Army had a number of outstanding players on the roster back then, but my focus was on Don Holleder, our All-America end turned quarterback in a controversial position change that had sportswriters and Army fans buzzing throughout the college football community that year.

Don looked like a hero, tall, square jawed, almost stately in his appearance. He practiced like he played, full out all the time. He was the obvious leader of the team in addition to being its best athlete and player.

In 1955 it was common for star players to play both sides of the ball and Don was no exception delivering the most punishing tackles in practice as well as game situations. At the end of practice the Army players would walk past the parade ground (The Plain), then past my house and into the Arvin Gymnasium where the team's locker room was located.

Very often I would take that walk stride for stride with Don and the team and best of all, Don would sometimes let me carry his helmet. It was gold with a black stripe down the middle and had the most wonderful smell of sweat and leather. Inside the helmet suspension was taped a sweaty number 16, Don's jersey number.

While Don's teammates would talk and laugh among themselves in typical locker room banter, Don would ask me about school, show me how to grip the ball and occasionally chide his buddies if the joking ever got bawdy in front of "the little guy". On Saturdays I lived and died with Don's exploits on the field in Michie Stadium.
 
In his senior year Don's picture graced the cover of Sports Illustrated magazine and he led Army to a winning season culminating in a stirring victory over Navy in front of 100,000 fans in Philadelphia. During that incredible year I don't ever remember Don not taking time to talk to me and patiently answer my boyish questions about the South Carolina or Michigan defense ("I'll bet they don't have anybody as fast as you, huh, Don?").
 
Don graduated with his class in June 1956 and was assigned to the 25th Infantry Division in Schofield Barracks, Hawaii. Coincidentally, my Dad was also assigned to the 25th at the same time so I got to watch Don quarterback the 14th Infantry Regiment football team to the Division championship in 1957.

There was one major drawback to all of Don's football-gained notoriety - he wanted no part of it. He wanted to be a soldier and an infantry leader. But division recreational football was a big deal in the Army back then and for someone with Don's college credentials not to play was unheard of.

 
In the first place players got a lot of perks for representing their Regiment, not to mention hero status with the chain of command. Nevertheless, Don wanted to trade his football helmet for a steel pot and finally, with the help of my Dad, he succeeded in retiring from competitive football and getting on with his military profession.
 
It came as no surprise to anyone who knew Don that he was a natural leader of men in arms, demanding yet compassionate, dedicated to his men and above all fearless. Sure enough after a couple of TO&E infantry tours his reputation as a soldier matched his former prowess as an athlete.
 
It was this reputation that won him the favor of the Army brass and he soon found himself as an Aide-de-camp to the four star commander of the Continental Army Command in beautiful Ft Monroe, Virginia.
 
With the Viet Nam War escalating and American combat casualties increasing every day, Ft Monroe would be a great place to wait out the action and still promote one's Army career - a high-profile job with a four star senior rater, safely distanced from the conflict in southeast Asia.
 
Once again, Don wanted no part of this safe harbor and respectfully lobbied his boss, General Hugh P. Harris to get him to Troops in Viet Nam. Don got his wish but not very long after arriving at the First Division he was killed attempting to lead a relief column to wounded comrades caught in a Viet Cong ambush.

I remember the day I found out about Don's death. I was in the barber's chair at The Citadel my sophomore year when General Harris (Don's old boss at Ft Monroe, now President of The Citadel) walked over to me and motioned me outside.

 
He knew Don was a friend of mine and sought me out to tell me that he was KIA. It was one of the most defining moments of my life. As I stood there in front of the General the tears welled up in my eyes and I said "No, please, sir. Don't say that." General Harris showed no emotion and I realized that he had experienced this kind of hurt too many times to let it show. "Biff", he said, "Don died doing his duty and serving his country. He had alternatives but wouldn't have it any other way. We will always be proud of him, Biff."
 
With that, he turned and walked away. As I watched him go I didn't know the truth of his parting words. I shed tears of both pride and sorrow that day in 1967, just as I am doing now, 34 years later, as I write this remembrance. In my mind's eye I see Don walking with his teammates after practice back at West Point, their football cleats making that signature metallic clicking on concrete as they pass my house at the edge of the parade ground; he was a leader among leaders.
 
As I have been writing this, I periodically looked up at the November 28, 1955 Sports Illustrated cover which hangs on my office wall, to make sure I'm not saying anything Don wouldn't approve of, but he's smiling out from under that beautiful gold helmet and thinking about the Navy game. General Harris was right. We will always be proud of Don Holleder, my boyhood hero... Biff Messinger, Mountainville, NY, 2001
 

***********"They never fail who die in a great cause: the block may soak their gore, their heads may sodden in the sun; their limbs be strung to city gates and castle walls--but still their spirit walks abroad. Though years elapse, and others share as dark a doom, they but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts which overpower all others, and conduct the world at last to freedom." Lord Byron

Like many other phenomena in life, history has a tendency to be fickle. In 2001, some thirty-four years after the Battle of Ông Thanh, and the subsequent withdrawal of U.S. forces from Vietnam in 1973, which was followed by the "honorable peace" that saw the North Vietnamese army conquer South Vietnam in 1975 in violation of the Paris Peace Accords, most historians, as well as a large majority of the American people, may consider the U.S. involvement in Vietnam a disastrous and tragic waste and a time of shame in U.S. history. Consider, however, the fact that since the late 1940s, the Soviet Union was the greatest single threat to U.S. security. Yet for forty years, war between the Soviet Union and the United States was averted. Each time a Soviet threat surfaced during that time (Greece, Turkey, Korea, Berlin, Cuba, Vietnam, and Afghanistan), although it may have been in the form of a "war of national liberation," as the Vietnam war was characterized, the United States gave the Soviet Union the distinct message that each successive threat would not be a Soviet walkover. In fact, the Soviets were stunned by the U.S. reactions in both Korea and Vietnam. They shook their heads, wondering what interest a great power like the United States could have in those two godforsaken countries. They thought: "These Americans are crazy. They have nothing to gain; and yet they fight and lose thousands of men over nothing. They are irrational." Perhaps history in the long-term--two hundred or three hundred years from now--will say that the western democracies, led by the United States, survived in the world, and their philosophy of government of the people, by the people, for the people continues to survive today (in 2301) in some measure due to resolute sacrifices made in the mid-twentieth century by men like those listed in the last chapter of this book. Then the words of Lord Byron, as quoted in this book's preface, will not ring hollow, but instead they will inspire other men and women of honor in the years to come.

From "The Beast was Out There", by Brigadier General James Shelton, USA (Ret.)

 
Jim Shelton is a former Delaware football player (wing-T guard) who served in Korea and Vietnam and as a combat infantryman rose to the rank of General. He was at Ong Thanh on that fateful day in October, 1967 when Don Holleder was killed. He had played football against Don Holleder in college, and was one of those called on to identify Major Holleder's body.
 
Now retired, he serves as Colonel of the Black Lions and has been instrumental in the establishment of the Black Lion Award for young American football players. General Shelton personally signs every Black Lions Award certificate.
 
The title of his book is taken from Captain Jim Kasik's description of the enemy: "the beast was out there, and the beast was hungry."
 
*********** "Major Holleder overflew the area (under attack) and saw a whole lot of Viet Cong and many American soldiers, most wounded, trying to make their way our of the ambush area. He landed and headed straight into the jungle, gathering a few soldiers to help him go get the wounded. A sniper's shot killed him before he could get very far. He was a risk-taker who put the common good ahead of himself, whether it was giving up a position in which he had excelled or putting himself in harm's way in an attempt to save the lives of his men. My contact with Major Holleder was very brief and occured just before he was killed, but I have never forgotten him and the sacrifice he made. On a day when acts of heroism were the rule, rather than the exception, his stood out." Dave Berry
 
click to read ... MORE ABOUT DON HOLLEDER - THE FOOTBALL PLAYER AND THE MAN  

*********** Finally, if ever there was a Black Lion Award winner...

Monday, May 23's Wall Street Journal contained a "credo paper" written by a high school senior named Michael Carlson. It was dated May 11, 2000. He was 17 years old, and the events of September 11, 2001 were still 17 months in the future.

Mr. Carlson wrote about how much he admired his dad - his toughness, his ambition, his work ethic. "For 30 years he has gone to work every day," he wrote, "for 30 years he has come home, gone to the garage and worked 10 hours more. I don't know how he does it, but I do know why. He does it for us."

And then he went on...

"I love sports. I love football, wrestling, weight lifting, skiing and hockey. I love the thrill of competition, the roar of the crowds, the agony on the faces of your opponents as the final seconds tick off the clock. However, I don't want to do it as a profession. I think it would be fun for a while then it would get boring. I guess the point that I am trying to make is that when I am on my deathbed what am I going to look back on? Will it be 30 years of playing a game that in reality means nothing, or will it be 30 years of fighting crime and protecting the country from all enemies, foreign and domestic.

"I want my life to account for something more than just a game. In life there are no winners, everyone eventually losers their life. I only have so much time; I can't waste it with a game. I don't want those close to me to look at me and tell me that I was good at a game. I want to be good at life; I want to be known as the best of the best at my job. I want people to need me, to count on me. I am never late; I am either on time or early. I want to help people, I want to fight for something, be part of something that is greater than myself. I want to be a soldier or something of that caliber, maybe a cop or a secret service agent.

"I want to live forever; the only way that one could possibly achieve it in this day and age is to live on in those you have affected. I want to carve out a niche for myself in the history books. I want to be remembered for the things I accomplished. I sometimes dream of being a soldier in a war. In this war, I am helping to liberate people from oppression. In the end, there is a big parade and a monument built to immortalize us in stone. Other times I envision being a man you see out of the corner of your eye, dressed in black fatigues, entering a building full of terrorists. After everything is completed I slip out the back only to repeat this the next time I am called. I might not be remembered in that scenario, but I will have helped people.

"I guess what I want most of all is to be a part of the real world, not an entertainer. I want want to have an essential role in the big picture. I want adventure, challenge, danger, and most of all I don't want to be behind a counter or desk. Maybe when I am a 100 years old I will slow down and relax. Till then, I have better things to do."

On January 24, 2005, Sergeant Michael Carlson, United States Army, was killed in Iraq when his Bradley fighting vehicle overturned. He was 22 years old, but so long as we remain true to the faith, he will live forever
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