What Is A Veteran? A 'Veteran' -- whether active duty, discharged, retired, or reserve --is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America,' for an amount of 'up to, and including his life.'
That is honor, and there are way too many people in this country today, who no longer understand that fact.
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Name: Mark Balkcom
Branch of Service: Army Date of Enlistment: 1958 Date of Discharge: 1960 Years Served: 3 Grade or Rank at Discharge: E-4 Career Field: CIC - Intellegence Specialist Remarks: Was stationed at Ft. Holabird, MD. Mark is Sally Middleton Balkcom's husband. Name: Gene Behler Branch of Service: Army Date of Enlistment: Sept. 26, 1960 Date of Discharge: July 1, 1993 Years Served: Almost 33 years Grade or Rank at Discharge: Colonel Career Field: Personnel Remarks: Served in Europe, Korea and Vietnam. Name: Donald Brown Branch of Service: Air Force Date of Enlistment: June 1949 Date of Discharge: 1953 Years Served: 3 1/2 Grade or Rank at Discharge: Staff Sgt. Career Field: Radio Operator Remarks: Combat in Korea, 1952. Donald is Dorothy Becker Brown's husband. Name: Terry Fleetwood Branch of Service: Navy Date of Enlistment: August 1956 Date of Discharge: December 1959 Years of Service: 3 1/2 Grade or Rank at Discharge: EM3SS Career Field: Electrcian Remarks: Served aboard the USS Guavina AOSS362 out of Keywest, FL for three years. She was put out of commission and I went to the USS Tench SS406 out of New London, Conn until i was discharged in Dec. of 1959. Name: Richard Hill Branch of Service: Air Force Date of Enlistment: August 1962 Date of Discharge: April 1965 Years Served: 2 yrs. 7 mo. 21 days Grade or Rank at Discharge: First Lt. Career Field: Medical Services Adm. Remarks: Webb AFB Hospital, Big Springs, TX. Richard is Sandy Gustafson Hill's husband. Name: Mark Johnston Branch of Service: Army & Air Force Reserves Date of Enlistment: Jan. 1961 Date of Discharge: Jan. 1967 Years Served: 6 Name: Ivan Jones Branch of Service: Army Date of Enlistment: Sept. 13, 1960 Date of Discharge: Sept. 13, 1963 Years of Service: 3 Grade or Rank at Discharge: SP/4 Career Field: Basic Army Adm/AGC Remarks: Basic and Adv. Training --Ft. Leonardwood, MO 5th Army Headquarter -- Chicago, IL HQ MAAG Saigon, Vietnam -- 1 year USAR Garrison - Ft. Sam Houston, San Antonio, TX CONARC -- Ft. Monroe, Virginia -- discharged Name: Jack Lindstrom Branch ofService: Air Force Date of Enlistment: Aug. 16, 1956 Date of Discharge: Aug. 15, 1960 Years of Service: 4 Grade or Rank ar Discharge: A/1C - E4 Career Field: UHF - VHF Grnd Radio Repair Remarks: Basic Training at Lackland AFB, San Antonio, TX. Ground Radio Repair School -- Scott AFB, Belleville, IL Anderson AFB, Guam, MI for 1 1/2 years. Malstrom AFB, Great Falls MT for about two years. Name: Patrick O'connor Branch of Service: Air Force Date of Enlistment: Sept. 11, 1956 Date of Discharge: Sept. 10, 1960 Years of Service: 4 Grade or rank at Discharge: A/3C Career Field: Radar Remarks: Stationed in North Dakota Name: Joe Peplow Branch of Service: Navy Date of Enlistment: Sept. 1963 Date of Discharge: Oct. 1984 Years of Service: 21 Grade or Rank at Discharge: Lcdr Career Field: Navigator - Aviation Remarks: 1965-66 Guam VW-1 Typhoon Tracker Squadron P.I. - HongKong - Okinawa - Taiwan - Japan - Iwo Jima 1966-68 USS Ranger CVA-61 2 Westpac cruises (Gulf of Tonkin) 1969-73 Naval Air Facility, Detroit (Selfridge AFB) 1973-76 Barbers Pt. Hawaii C-118/130 Transports Midway/Guam/Phillipines/Vietnam/Taiwan/Okinawa Korea/Japan/New Zealand/Australia/Thailand and Indonesia 1976-79 New Orleans, LA 1979-84 NAS Glenview, IL Name: Ron Salemi Branch of Service: Army Date of Enlistment: June 1961 Date of Discharge: April 25, 1967 Years of Service: 6 Grade or Rank at Discharge: S/Sgt. Career Field: Mess Hall Sgt. Remarks: Served at Ft. Riley, KS Name: George Thomas Branch of Service: Navy Date of Enlistment: May 1961 Date of Discharge: Sept 1964 Years of Service: 3 1/2 Grade or Rank at Discharge: LT - JG Career Field: Supply Officer Remarks: West Coast US & Western Pacific deployment after Officer Candidate School was completed. Naval Air Facility - Litchfield Park, AZ Name: Ron Stone Branch of Service: Air Force Date of Enlistment: June 1954 Date of Discharge: August 1957 Years of service: 3 Grade or Rank at Discharge: A/1c Career Field: Aircraft Machanic Remarks: Ron and Barb married in March 1955. They were stationed at Fairchild AFB, Spokane, WA. Ron also spent time in Guam, MI & Roswell, NM. |
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Excerpts from the book Gene Behler is writing called “Soldiers”. Keep your head down, Geno… One of the last people I saw before I left for Vietnam in August 1969 was Fred Sibley. Fred, his twin brother Charles or “Chuck”, and I went to kindergarten together and stayed together throughout high school. Fred married his high school sweetheart and stayed in our hometown (Sycamore, Illinois) while I went into the Army. Fred still lives in Sycamore and I see him sometimes on my occasional trips to Illinois. Fred, his wife Pat (now deceased), my wife Jackie and I went out for supper a few days before I left for Vietnam. Over drinks and cigarettes, we reminisced about the good times and old friends. It was a pleasant and nostalgic evening. I do not know why, but for some reason I told Fred one of the things I was going to do while in Vietnam was to give up smoking. Fred wanted to know why. I said that I had wanted to quit for sometime and thought this would be a good time to do it. Fred pointed out that it was difficult to stop smoking…in fact, it is very difficult to do…many try, he said, most fail …it is miserable. He was quite convincing. However, what was most convincing was when he said “You know, Gene, I can see you going through all of that misery and finally being successful and then getting your damn head shot off. It ain’t worth it.“ We all laughed at his words. However, Fred had planted a seed in my mind. Fred’s last words to me as we said our goodbyes were “Keep your head down, Geno.” I did not even try to stop smoking in Vietnam. I suppose Fred’s sage advice had something to do with it. Nevertheless, it was nearly impossible to quit smoking given the daily stress of life and serving with an infantry division in Vietnam. The lowest bidder… The Army and other elements of the federal government are often criticized for “single source” contracts. A single source contract is a contract that is awarded to a company or corporation without going through the competitive bid process. The price is negotiated usually on a cost plus ten percent basis. Many critics of the government says that it could save millions or even billions of dollars if it made more use of competitive bidding. In competitive bidding, the government announces what it wants and when it wants it and companies submit competitive bids in an effort to win the contract. Government contract officials then select a vendor whose proposal most closely meets government specifications. Usually, but not always, the contract is awarded to the lowest bidder. It is not my purpose to argue philosophy or policy here. Nor is it to examine the bid process in detail. But let me tell you what soldiers say about the competitive bid process. It’s very straightforward: “Remember, your rifle was made by the lowest bidder”. Not a very comforting thought when a soldier’s individual weapon can be all that stands between the soldier and the enemy--between the soldier and life or death. |
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What is that on top of your car…? The early 1980s took the Behler family to the beautiful state of Wisconsin. I was assigned to a unit called a readiness group at Fort McCoy near Sparta, Wisconsin. Sparta is a town of about 7,000 people with some 22 bars but that’s another story. A readiness group assists in the training of National Guard and Army reserve soldiers and units. My job was Chief of the Administration Team. We helped National Guard and Army reserve units with administration, logistics, mess hall operations and reenlistment programs. There were ten of us on the team--two other officers and seven noncommissioned officers. Snow comes early to that part of Wisconsin. In fact, in my three years there, we always had a foot of snow on the ground by Thanksgiving. Winters were tough although state and local governments did a superb job in keeping roadways cleared. Below zero temperatures were common during the winter months. Whenever possible, the Army tries to stand down at Christmas time. For the holidays, I had one officer and one noncommissioned officer work each day. Everybody else was free to stay home with their families and do whatever they wished. On one especially cold and windy day, I was on duty with Sergeant First Class Al Melton. Al was the best food service sergeant I had ever known. There was nothing about a mess hall (now called a dining facility) that Al did not know. Al was an African-American from Alabama who did not like the cold and wasn’t happy about being in Wisconsin. His wife and a son and daughter came to Wisconsin with him. They lived in Sparta. As far as I know, the Meltons were the only black family in the community and probably the area. I have always questioned the Department of the Army’s wisdom in assigning Sergeant Melton to that readiness group. I know the Army tried to be “color-blind” when it makes personnel assignments but it is not easy for a black family to fit into an environment like the one that existed in Sparta. The Meltons got along well with their neighbors and most folks in the community, although I understand that Al’s son wasn’t real popular with some parents. Al’s son was a good-looking young man and an excellent football player. He set several state records in track and when he graduated from high school he was offered a scholarship to a Big Ten school. While he wasn’t popular with some parents, he was very popular with several of their daughters. On the day that Al and I were on duty together, I remember standing by a window watching the blustery weather. As soldiers are wont to do our conversation eventually turned to what we planned to do when we retired. I hadn’t decided for sure but was thinking about returning to Indianapolis and finding employment with state government. At the time, I didn’t know that Army colonels earned more than the governor did. I asked Al what he was going to do. “Major Behler,” he said, “I am going to put a snow plow on the top of my car and drive south. I am going to stop at the first place where someone says to me ‘What’s that on top of your car?’” I don’t know if Al’s comments were original or not. But it was the first time I had ever heard them and I thought they were great. Later, I submitted this little story in a much abbreviated form to the Readers’ Digest but it wasn’t published. I am glad to finally have a forum in which I can share Al Melton’s comments. He was a fine man, an outstanding soldier and a good friend. Wherever he is now, I know he is enjoying great success. |
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A short synopsis of my four years in the United States Air Force. Jack Lindstrom. I joined the USAF in August of 1956. The main reason I enlisted was because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life and I figured after four years in the Air Force I would have some idea; but I didn’t. After basic training at Lackland AFB, San Antonio, TX, I was sent to Scott AFB, Bellville, IL and was trained in UHF-VHF Ground Radio Repair. We arrived a week or two early for our schooling at Scott AFB, so they put us on KP duty (that stands for kitchen police) for a week or so. I just loved that phase of my tour of duty. To this day I hate doing dishes, but thankfully, we have a dishwasher and it isn’t me. After twenty-one weeks of a twenty-four week course we were informed we were going to have a test and if anyone flunked the test they would have to go back and start the course all over again. I decided I didn’t wish to do that so I crammed for the test and received the second highest mark in the class. My best friend at the time said, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew all the answers” I replied “I didn’t know I knew all the answered, I just wasn’t going back and start all over again”. Thinking back; it might not have been a bad idea to flunk the test as I used to get home once in awhile while at Scott AFB. I would hitchhike or get a ride from someone going to Chicago. After school I received my orders and was shipped to Anderson AFB, Guam, MI. “Guam, oh yes, sunny Guam”. The weather was great, most of the time, unless we were having a typhoon. They had one while I was there and at the time I had a 1941 Plymouth convertible. The parking lot at our barracks was fairly deep and the typhoon blew the top off of my convertible, blew both doors open, as they never latched properly anyway, and the water and rain just flowed though my car. Needless to say my car was an accident looking for a place to happen. We had many an adventure in that old vehicle. I had to make sure I had buddies to go with me when we went to the beach in case I needed a push. Either that or I had to find a hill to park on. The starter was bad and it was rather difficult to get parts over there. I also spent time coaching baseball and basketball for dependent kids. I enjoyed that very much and if I had my life to live over I probably would have been a coach. The time I spent on Guam was enjoyable in a lot of ways, especially the weather. After spending a year and a half on Guam I was sent on my next assignment at Malmstrom AFB, Great Falls, MT. Talk about going from one extreme to another, weather wise that is. I spent the remainder of my enlistment at Malmstrom AFB. While I was stationed there I met a beautiful girl who was to become my first wife and the mother of my three children. That was the best thing that happened to me while stationed at Malmstrom AFB. Great Falls, Mt is not a place where I would like to spend a lot of time. Cold winters and it seemed as if the wind was blowing all the time. I can recall it being 50 degrees above zero one day and 30 degrees below zero the next. The GI’s used to take the batteries out of their cars and take them in the barracks when the weather got real cold as our cars all sat outside. I just loved it. Ha ha. |
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Joe Peplow
I got my pre-induction physical notice in 1960 while I was living in Carbondale. On the bus to St. Louis to take the physical, I met a nice guy who was evidently living on a farm. While taking the battery of tests, I overhead a sergeant asked him if he was having some problems, and the guy responded "Yes sir - I cain't read". Until that time, I never knew anyone who couldn't read. I joined the Guard unit in Sycamore and went to Ft. Dix N.J. for 6 months of active duty, (Basic/AIT). I was 23 and had never had Pullman accommodations on a train nor had I ever been east of far western Indiana. Many of us guard and Army reserve guys in basic training were going to college, just out of college, policemen, - all sorts of backgrounds. Basic training was easy for me - I liked to hike and be on the rifle ranges. Between basic and AIT I flew home - my first flight on a airline ; a non scheduled airline flying DC-6's, that delayed the scheduled departure hoping to get a few more passengers. 12 years later, I would be flying as a navigator in Navy C-118s (military DC-6). More to follow. |
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I'm sure you and the others who were in the service have pictures to share. |
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TWENTY FOUR a story by Dave Drenckpohl The aircraft swept low over the tangled jungle below. The sky was heavy with dark stratus clouds and here and there rain showers fell warm and wet into the trees below. The valley was narrow; its rims obscured by the low overcast. The plane was old, the pilots young, and the crew abnormally quiet. There was concentration; an attention to detail; an almost animal awareness of their immediate surroundings; an eagerness to function, and to function well. With surprising suddenness they were over a break in the jungle, a man- made clearing barely larger then a baseball diamond. "That's it", said the pilot not flying, his finger held on a chart folded on his lap. As they passed over the drop zone, they could see men below, soldiers, carrying rifles and dressed in black and green; one threw a smoke grenade. Immediately the plane banked sharply and pulled up into a climbing turn. The airspeed fell off to drop speed and the loadmaster opened the rear door and lowered the ramp; a red signal light came on by the door. Time was now critical; the plane and its crew were now very vulnerable at 1000 feet and just over 100 knots. It was a slow moving target, hanging in the leaden sky and in everyone's mind one thought - ground fire. The plane returned over the drop zone. Guided by the smoke below, the pilots offset its position slightly, allowing for the effect of the wind on the chutes as they would fall. The signal light changed to green, a loud bell rang out over the roar of the engines, and the men pushed the first pallet out the rear cargo door. They were glad to see it fall clear - small arms ammunition and mortar shells. The aircraft banked quickly and a second pass was made - downwind - this time a food pallet; mostly rice with live pigs and ducks in bamboo baskets. Again the light and bell and the second pallet was away. It landed close to the first -both in the D.Z. - a good drop. "Let's go" said one of the pilots; the engines roared with new power, the door and ramp were closed, and the aircraft dove for the comparative safety of the tree tops. The engineer came forward smiling and shaking his head - one of the pigs had been overcome by the prospect of is impending departure and had committed a rather gross social indiscretion. The loadmaster had the honor of cleaning it up. Everyone laughed, strangely, even the loadmaster. The laughter was good, and life was good - very good. The return trip went smoothly. They checked tomorrow's schedule - they had an early take-off. The air was hot and heavy on the bus that carried one of the pilots home to his apartment. He stared stoically out the heavily wired window; very tired and dirty but still just a little watchful. The other men on the bus were also quiet, keeping mainly to themselves. It was late afternoon when he climbed the stairs to his apartment. Only the Chinese maid was there; she was feeding her two children when he walked by. They smiled and the little girl said something he couldn't catch, bringing shy giggles from the other two - he smiled back. They liked him. He cleaned up immediately and caught a cab for the few blocks to the Officer's Club. There, in the splendor of real air-conditioning, he enjoyed an incredibly American meal of steak and baked potatoes. After dinner, he ordered a Drambuie and walked out on the roof- top terrace. This was a private time. A time to watch the nighthawks soar in the darkened sky, to listen to the night sounds from the tree- lined boulevard below, and to think. But the thoughts led nowhere. Circular thoughts, trapped in the serenity of the moment - the sweetness of the night air, and the precious realization of existence. A young man's thoughts of the here and now, thoughts clouded by the narcotic effect of his surroundings. Thoughts of the moment - not the future; of existence - not destiny; a time for feeling - not philosophy. Later that night, he lay on his low hard bed watching the geckos prowl the walls, always on the lookout for an unwary bug. The men had named them all - the smallest was named Egor. He was soothed by the slowly revolving overhead fan. He spoke in hushed tones into the warm and humid darkness. He was answered by his friend, barely discernable in the half- light, also laying on his bed waiting for sleep. They spoke of home, half a world away, telling stories of their day, sharing, acknowledging each others presence and worth; laughing quietly. Their voices trailed off; some thoughts went unfinished; responses came slower. Finally only the slow swish of the fan broke the silence. The young men slept - and slowly grew older. |
