Veterans

Born in the Roaring ‘20s — U.S. Air Force Airman 1st Class, Farmer & Epic Traveler Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of William Oscar Warren, Jr., known to his friends as WO, as told in his own words. This is part two of a two-part series, continued from last month. Click here to read Part 1.  by Melissa LaScaleia Continued from last month…. “On Monday I went to the order room to check in, and the sergeant said to me, ‘What are you doing here?’ And I said, ‘I’m signing in.’ And he said, ‘I already signed you in. I knew you’d be here. Take your wife and go home and get settled and come back tomorrow morning.’ After graduation, I was going to be sent to North Africa for my duty assignment, but my wife was about 5 months pregnant, so they sent me to Donaldson Air Base in South Carolina instead. I found out that they had a detachment at Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina, 25 miles from my home. And I explained my personal situation to my sergeant and he agreed to send me there for my regular duty instead. I was able to live at home and drive into work every day. This was during the Cold War era, so we were always expecting to be attacked by somebody. I worked behind a big wall of plexiglass, and any information I had, I had to write backwards so the commanding officers in front of the glass could read it. It took some practice to get good at that, but it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. My days were a combination of studying radar, working behind the plexiglass writing, and working on what was called a height finder, to discover the whereabouts of enemy planes. One night about 2 am, I was on radar duty; my radar scope was covering 500 miles in all directions. I saw a blip come up on the edge of my scope. I immediately started to track it, but when the needle had rotated around one time, the dot was in the center. Then the next time, it was almost off the screen. It got my attention, so I called it in to my headquarters, Shaw Air Force Base. They had picked it up too, but also couldn’t identify it. I kept a log book of my recordings that I wrote out by hand, this was the era before computers, and I recorded it as an unidentified flying object. We never knew what it was, but it was moving fast. Everything went pretty smoothly during my time in the military. We went on what was called maneuvers in 1955, in Louisiana and Texas for three months. These were joint Army, Navy, and Air Force mock war training operations. We packed up all our equipment and loaded up a convoy that we took to Louisiana, doing what we did in North Carolina, scanning the skies. In the mock encounter, somehow a plane got through our system, and in the exercises we were all killed. Once in the service, I really enjoyed it, and was thinking about staying in. I made Airman 1st Class in twenty-two months. I had 26 months to make staff. But then I found out that as a radar operator, you can’t make staff your first enlistment. I was kind of disappointed. I decided to leave the military early because the government had too many enlisted men and they were letting 600,000 men out early if they wanted to go. My father wanted me to come back home, so he offered to build a service station with all expenses paid, for my brother and I to run. I decided to take the offer, and signed up with Philips Petroleum company in 1957 after I was discharged. Then I got into the oil business, running delivery for kerosene, gasoline, and fuel oil. We delivered anything from 5 to 150 gallons at a time to tanks in people’s yards or on their farms. We also built two more stations that we rented out, and sold Phillips 66 gasoline to other stations. We stayed in the business until 1996. Then we sold it, and my wife and I bought a van and started traveling. We covered all fifty states, all over Nova Scotia, and parts of Mexico and Canada. While we were traveling, we were still managing farmland from afar. I was on the board of the Erwin Voluntary Fire Department for over fifty years, as director. I did it as a civil servant, and they gave me a plaque to commemorate my service. I started playing golf when I was thirty years old, and played until I was ninety-three when a sciatic nerve in my right leg started to bother me; I never got over it and lost interest in the game. We were traveling until 2010, then we kind of slowed down. We’ve still done a bit of traveling since then. My wife wanted to spend more time in Myrtle Beach, SC, so we bought a park model camper at Myrtle Beach Travel Park. We spent part of our time in Myrtle Beach, and the other part of the time in Erwin. We were staying in our own home in Erwin until two months ago, when my wife broke her hip. She’s using a walker now, doing physical therapy, and my eldest daughter didn’t think … Read more

Born in the Roaring ‘20s— U.S. Air Force Airman 1st Class, Farmer, Epic Traveler

Peace-Time Medic and Social Activist Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country. We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys. This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Nelson Melendez, as told in his own words. This is the final chapter of a two-part series, continued from last month. Click here to read Part 1. by Melissa LaScaleia continued from last month… “It was a great experience for me. I enjoyed meeting new people; we were an hour from Seoul and could visit when we had leave time. It was very interesting, and a culture shock of course. I learned to eat Korean food and speak the language a little. I roomed with a KATUSA, a Korean soldier augmented to the American army; he was a sergeant too. KATUSAs wanted to learn the American way of doing things, but the experience gave me the opportunity to learn more of the Korean language and culture too. I would go out to eat with him and learned all kinds of things. I did eat dog and water buffalo, and had no idea at the time. And I’m a dog lover. He thought it was funny, but he only tricked me once. I also developed a love of kimchi, and tried about thirty different types. I found that either you open yourself to the experience, or you lock yourself in, and develop issues. I’m very open. Everywhere I go I try something different. While in Korea, I went to mountain rappelling and water survival school. I was the doc to these soldiers, and they would ask me if I wanted to do things with them because I was there helping them. So they’d give me the opportunity to do something totally outside of my job skill. I learned how to make a rappeling harness out of just rope. I learned how to make something with something else and how to make it work for you. In water survival school we learned how to capsize a rubber Zodiak boat and flip it over. It was very exciting and a lot of fun. Part of what the military is in general is camaraderie with other soldiers. You make bonds with others no matter their walk or way of life because of the circumstances you’re all in. The military is great at teaching people who have nothing in common how to rally behind one common goal. My brother had been shot and sent home, but he returned to the field because he missed the camaraderie. Once a month, North Korea would send air raids. We would climb into foxholes then, waiting to see what would happen. During those times, you were just grateful there was someone next to you in that foxhole, you didn’t care who it was. North Korea wanted to unite with South Korea and wanted the Americans to go home, so they would drop communist propaganda pamphlets out of planes to try to convince the South Koreans to stop cooperating with the Americans and merge their countries. Sometimes, after that, the reality of being away from your home would set in for soldiers. They would come to see me then, questioning what they were doing there. I always tried to set them right within themselves— to remind them they had signed up for themselves, for their own personal reasons, and it wasn’t that they owed anything to the army or South Korea. I was in Korea for fourteen months, as part of a reactionary force, or what they called a peace time soldier. I take off my hat to anyone who went to war— they had to do something I never had to do. I understand the difference between someone who’s a combat veteran and what I did. The people who went to Korea and Vietnam, they are the true heroes; I was just a support person. I’m grateful for my time in the military and living in a place that is so supportive to and appreciative of veterans. That spirit of gratitude is indoctrinated into me. If it wasn’t for what I did there, I’d be a different person from who I am. After Korea, I separated from the Army from California. I had signed up for six years: four active duty and two reserves. Most reserves spend one weekend a month, but because I was a medic, I always had to get vehicles and supplies ready. That took time, so I was a different status; I was almost like an active reservist. Upon my exit, I returned to Brooklyn, and within a week was working for UPS. After wearing a uniform for so long, it feels natural to keep doing it. So I did that for about a year, and then a friend offered me a job at a bank in the accounting department in New York. Then I was wearing a suit and a tie for the next few years—  just a different type of uniform. At that time, the social activist Luis Garden Acosta had just begun a leadership program at El Puente de Williamsburg. Its mission was to get young people mobilized and socialized so they would learn about history and culture and grow from being drug dealers to community activists and leaders. I was asked to come in and work at this program, mentoring and assisting youth, to get these kids off the street and to live more fulfilling lives. I ended up doing this for the next eleven years, and met my wife, Lisa, during this time too. Many … Read more

Peace-Time Medic and Social Activist Part 1 of 2 Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Nelson Melendez, as told in his own words. This is the first chapter of a two-part series. Click here to read Part 2.   by Melissa LaScaleia “I was born on October 10, 1958, in Brooklyn, New York. My parents were both from Puerto Rico and factory workers who made very little wages. Growing up, we lived in a small walk-up apartment. I was the only child of both of my parents, so felt lucky that I had two half-brothers and one half-sister. One sibling, my half-brother Antonio, volunteered to join the U.S. Army during Vietnam. He was seventeen years old and wanted to get out of the neighborhood; we couldn’t afford college, so that was the way. He loved the military, but after he returned, on October 9, 1973, he took his own life. There were a lot of negative connotations about being a Vietnam veteran at that time. There was a lot of prejudice and negativity around the situation, and barely any support for soldiers. When I was seventeen, I took the test to join the military, scored well, and when I turned eighteen, I joined full time. I wanted to finish what he started. There was a lot of drugs and violence in my neighborhood, and I wasn’t the best student, so education wasn’t going to be my ticket out. I completed my basic training in Fort Dix, New Jersey in November 1977. Then became an Army medic because I scored well enough on the test. I was stationed in Fort San Houston, Texas where I trained to be a basic medic. I did well with that class and was given the opportunity to get a second job title as a behavioral science specialist. They are the basic or first-line mental health providers to troops in the field. Every time a battalion goes out into the field or overseas, a mental health provider as well as a medic goes with them. When there was a field hospital, that’s where I was stationed. If a soldier or personnel needs to talk, we are there for them. We have the power to evacuate them if we see anything like a psychosis coming on. A lot of times, what I saw were young soldiers with a detachment disorder because they were away from home for the first time, eating out in the field with people from all walks of life, where it’s wet and cold and unfamiliar. Some people do well with that, and others don’t have good interpersonal skills, or haven’t developed coping mechanisms. After my medical training, I was stationed at Fort Polk, in Leesville, Louisiana, home of the 5th Mechanized Infantry. We were part of the 5th Medical Battalion. I spent three years at Fort Polk, and was deployed to Germany in 1978 and 1979 for three months at a time. Whenever I wasn’t traveling or in the field, I worked out of the hospital on a team led by a clinical psychiatrist with other social workers and psychologists. During our downtime, the psychologists would give us psychological tests to learn baselines, like the MMPI and the Rorschach. From this, I learned that I was severely dyslexic. Then I learned certain tricks so I could focus, and not invert numbers and letters. After my three years at Fort Polk, I was deployed to South Korea, and stationed at Camp Casey. We were five minutes by air from the DMZ, which separated North from South Korea. There, I worked as the behavioral scientist and was assigned to the drug and alcohol clinic and the ER as a sergeant. I worked with soldiers who had become addicted to the drugs that were so easy to find in Korea. There wasn’t a lot to do where we were, so soldiers drank because of boredom.” To be continued… 

U.S. Army Veteran, Small Business Owner, Humanitarian Part II Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Frank Espinal, as told in his own words. This is the final chapter of a two-part series, continued from last month. Click here to read Part 1.  by Melissa LaScaleia “There was one situation in which one of my squads was attached to a different unit in an armored track vehicle, and they got lost. We had limited radio contact, but I knew what their last position was. I went out with grid coordinates, figured out the direction they were going, and found them.  I had 100% success rate in finding anyone who was lost using a map, compass, and protractor.  The military awarded me several medals during my time in service, including two Army Commendation medals: highly regarded awards I received for training troops under me to successfully fight, win, and survive. When I first arrived back in active duty, my unit was not at a high level of combat readiness. I was recognized by First Army Division East for being able to turn the unit around and get them combat ready within a three-month period. I consider myself one of the lucky ones. There are a lot of people who served who aren’t as lucky. In my years of service, you have the ugly parts— that’s the war. But then the happy parts— when we went back and did the reconstructions. I felt a sense of accomplishment, worth, and patriotism from that.  When you go to another country and see how they live, you come out of there feeling a sense of pride that you were able to help. When you get deployed, you go through training to understand that country’s cultural differences and how life there is generally conducted so you will respect their traditions and culture even though they may rub you wrong. It is what it is and you simply have to accept it. You don’t realize how good you have it until you go abroad. I think often you take for granted the freedoms you have until you see how people live in other countries and you see the freedoms that they don’t have. Especially in parts of the world where women are treated as second-class citizens. That to me is just appalling… Panama still has a population of indigenous people who live in the jungle. We would often run into these people, and we’d partake in certain rituals, and observe etiquette like acknowledging and respecting their elders. We had missions to go out there, and when you see how they live, it takes you back thousands of years and you realize, my God, people still live like this.  When I finished my four years of active duty, I went to college at Eastern University in Pennsylvania on the GI Bill, married my high school sweetheart, and got a job in healthcare.  I started in sales, earned my master’s degree in business, and worked my way into management. I came from nothing and retired as a corporate director for a fortune 500 company twenty years later, with over 700 employees under me. When I hit the ceiling in my career, I decided to retire to Myrtle Beach and open my own business. My wife and I had been coming to Myrtle Beach for vacation for thirty years, and we loved it here. I opened ShipOnSite in 2006; we had three profit centers at that time. All the skills I learned in the military—the drive, discipline, and refusal to accept failure—have made me into a successful business owner. I grew the business into seven profit centers today, and every year we’ve been voted the number one shipping store along the Grand Strand. Come and visit me at 2734 Beaver Run Blvd. Other shipping stores refer customers to us because of the unusual things we can ship— like delicate or large freight items. I learned how to ship freight from my military deployments where I had to load vehicles, tanks and equipment onto railheads, aircraft, and ships. All of that is second nature to me now. I’m now a logistics professional. I look back and I try to look at the good that I was a part of personally, not the bad. War isn’t good, plain and simple, it exists because peace failed. So I don’t talk about it because I have a lot of mixed emotions, but I’m also grateful for the experience because it made me who I am today.”

U.S. Army Veteran, Small Business Owner, Humanitarian Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Frank Espinal, as told in his own words. Click here to read Part 2.  by Melissa LaScaleia My heritage is Puerto Rican, and I was born in a small town in southeastern Pennsylvania in 1965. My mother raised me and my three siblings alone; we were a poor family. I was a motivated student in high school, but I just didn’t have the familial or financial support to go to college at that time, so I did what I thought would work for me and my future and joined the U.S. Army in 1982. I completed my basic training at Fort Jackson, then was stationed at Fort Hood, Texas for the next four years. The first units I served in had deployments to Panama, Honduras, and Grenada. My ability to speak the Spanish language was an asset to those deployments. I had a top secret security clearance, and worked with different units within the military in a supporting role. After four years of active duty, I served for sixteen more years in the Army National Guard and U.S. Army Reserves. When you’re in combat arms, you’re trained to kill. It’s not easy to talk about. It’s not a glorious life, it’s serving your country. Elements of my unit were deployed to Grenada when the U.S. invaded in 1983 to overthrow the dictatorial Marxist government. Years later, that small Caribbean country reemerged in my life when I was deployed to help with the reconstruction and building of schools. The U.S. invasion of Panama, called Operation Just Cause, happened at the end of 1989 to depose the dictatorial leadership. During this time, I was in the Army Reserves, and I was deployed to help with rebuilding parts of the country after the successful overthrow. In Panama we were able to take some of the old barracks that were damaged during the invasion and convert them into a hospital which we turned over to the Panamanian people. This was about the same time that the U.S. government relinquished the Canal to Panama and turned over military bases to the Panamanian people as well. The work we did came in the form of financial aid to these countries. But it’s not so much about writing a check as it is building infrastructure. I worked with combat engineers; we had a role in reconstructing buildings that were destroyed during the invasions. There was also a highway system being built between the Americas that connects North and South; we helped to build those roads. In the jungles of Panama, I would come across old Spanish forts over 500 years old; the jungle had literally overtaken them. I realized that I was sitting on a piece of history— and I reflected on where we’ve come from since then—that I’m there today, helping these people to rebuild a country that was being ruled by a dictator. And I could see the affect that that government had on these people. They were so appreciative of everything we did for them. It’s those experiences that made me into a humanitarian. Then, during Operation Desert Shield and Desert Storm in 1991, I was called back into active duty. At this time I was an E6 staff sergeant in the U.S. Army. My unit was deployed to Iraq for nine months and I worked with combat engineers to maintain security on a supply route from Kuwait to Iraq and rebuild the road if it were damaged or destroyed by enemy fire. When you’re out in the desert, you’re traveling by compass, and a lot of times you have to travel at night. Land navigation is so important in military operations, and I consider myself an expert in it. I’ve had situations where I had to find people who were lost in the desert, and you’re doing that in the dark, as quietly as possible. To be continued…

WWII Refugee, Korean War Era Veteran and Repeat 2000 Miler​ Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Victor Kubilius, as told in his own words. This is the final chapter of a three-part series, continued from last month. Click here to read Part 2.  by Melissa LaScaleia “So I decided to circumnavigate the United States and parts of Canada via bicycle. I biked from Jacksonville, Florida to Bar Harbor, Maine; then from Maine to Vancouver, to San Diego, and then across Texas and back to Florida. It took me five months. When planning the trip, I was looking for places to go and visit that I hadn’t been. Plus it was a challenge; I like challenges. It was quite a few miles. I made many other bike trips. I took the TransAmerica Bicycle Trail that starts in Portsmouth, Virginia, and traverses the country to Astoria, Oregon, where the Columbia River empties into the Pacific. It’s 4,822 miles one way. From there I diagonally came back to Myrtle Beach. That was my second trip; it took three and a half months. My next one, I biked from East to West Canada. I started in Connecticut, and from there biked to Dawson City in Canada’s Yukon Territory. That town is the start of the Dempster Highway, renowned because it’s 500 miles of unpaved road in the Northwest Territory.  I biked it all the way to Inuvik, a little town in the Northwest Territory. From there I biked to Skagway, Alaska. Then I took a ferry from Skagway to Bellingham, Washington. It was a three day ferry. And from Bellingham, I biked diagonally, back to Myrtle Beach. That took about five months. I also biked the entire Alaskan Highway. It was built during the Second World War to connect Alaska to the rest of the contiguous United States. It begins at Dawson Creek, British Columbia, and goes to Alaska. I got in the habit of doing one trip a year. And then I got into long distance hiking. Back when I worked with United Technologies, a few of us were inclined every so often to go hiking as a group in New Hampshire and Maine. On one occasion, I met a couple of teenagers— and they looked drab and cold. And I saw that they were trying to cook. I asked where they were going, and they said they were hiking the Appalachian trail, from Florida to Maine. And I never could stop thinking about it afterwards. And I thought: my God, to hike all that distance. So then it was my turn. I started in Spring Mountain, Georgia. The trail goes through fourteen states and ends at the top of Mt. Katahdin. It took me five and a half months. It’s rather treacherous, and it’s difficult to hike because there’s a lot of rocks and it’s up and down. But I did it. Two years later, I did the PCT, the Pacific Crest Trail. It starts in Campo California, on the Mexican border, and it goes through three different states— California, Oregon, and Washington state, and up to Canada— 2700 miles. The last long hiking trip I did was the Continental Divide Trail, 3,200 miles. It starts near the Mexican border as well— in Hachita, New Mexico, and also goes through Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho and Montana, and you end up in Canada. That took seven months. In Montana there are Grizzly bears— and I saw one at least every week. And when you’re alone, it’s a little scary. Because all the information tells you that if you’re in a group of 4-5 people or more, you’re relatively safe— that the bears tend not to attack. But if they see a lone hiker, they’re much more apt to attack. On one trip, I was bicycling the Yukon Hwy. It was 5am, and because I was in the Arctic Circle, the sun doesn’t set, and it was very bright. There were no cars, and then I came upon a huge rock on the side of the road. I thought it was a boulder, but it was a big Grizzly bear. I whistled from afar and he turned and saw me. So I turned and went back 50 yards, and then he was gone. My favorite hike out of everything I did was the PCT. The PCT is the easiest and most picturesque. You go through old mountain ranges.  I hiked parts of it with four other people, from Switzerland and Germany. You don’t want to pick people to hike with before you get on the trail, because they might drive you up the wall. But you meet people on the trail. And the best way to find if someone is compatible with you or not is to find someone on the trail while you’re there. The most difficult was the Continental Divide, because of the size. It just seems like it never ends. Eventually you reach the end, and you’re so elated. And then you get back to your life, and I was kind of depressed for a while, because there’s nothing to live for. But then, I’d get over that after a month. So then, after that month that I recovered, I’d have nothing left but memories, and then I started ballroom dancing again— my favorite activity. After forty-eight years, I went back to Lithuania and saw my sister for the first time since childhood. It was very nostalgic— very interesting. That … Read more

I was about sixteen or seventeen years old at the time. I did this for a couple of years, then I got a job at a typewriter company…

WWII Refugee, Korean War Era Veteran and Repeat 2000 Miler Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Victor Kubilius as told in his own words. It is continued in next month’s Celebrate Our Veteran column. Click here to read Part 2.  by Melissa LaScaleia “I was born in Lithuania by the shores of the Baltic Sea in 1931. I lived there for ten years before World War II started. Then the Germans invaded Russia, and Lithuania was in the way, so they trampled all over us as well as the other Baltic countries of Estonia and Latvia. The Russians were pushing the Germans back in my country. It was a war zone; all of Europe was in a war. My mother had nine children, and only six survived. At that time, it was common that a child could die shortly after birth. Then my father died when I was two years old, leaving my mother with five young children and pregnant with a sixth. My aunt primarily raised my elder sister, Danute, due to the hardship. Plus my aunt had four sons and wanted a daughter. Danute was a year older than I was. When the war broke out, she didn’t leave Lithuania with us; instead she stayed with her primary family and began secretly working with the resistance movement. She was eleven or twelve years old at the time, and hid two young Lithuanian nationalists in a root cellar. At night she would let them out and they would ambush the Russians. It was foolish, they were never going to win, but they were patriots. The Russians didn’t catch her until four or five years later. A neighbor who was sympathetic to the Russians turned her in. The two young men committed suicide in the root cellar with hand grenades because they knew if the Russians found them they’d be tortured and want to know where the rest of the insurgents were hiding. My sister was shipped off to Siberia. After Stalin died, the Russians became more gentle and released her. After five years in Siberia, she returned to Lithuania. We reunited after forty years in Lithuania— it was quite an occasion. While my sister stayed behind, my mother, brother and sister and I became refugees. The Germans pushed the Russians way back west to Leningrad, and we were being pushed along with them, along the war front.  When winter came, the Germans had to stop because they had no winter equipment. Then the Russians pushed the Germans back fairly easily. We were caught really, between these two warring counties. The Russians were even more aggressive than the Germans, so we decided to go to Germany. We walked across most of the country. We had no horses, no vehicles. We walked with what was on our backs, and pushed a small cart behind us. We couldn’t take showers. We were hungry. I had to steal or beg for food. We eventually reached Schneider Muller. From there, we boarded trains and were shipped to the western part of Germany in the farmlands, a little town called Oldenburg. This is where the Germans took the refugees who didn’t want to go back to their country under Soviet Rule. They delivered us to farmers. We worked and didn’t get paid, but it was better because we had food, shelter and beds, and we were used to being farmhands, so it was no big deal for us. When the Germans finally capitulated to the Allies, Europe was divided into three zones governed by the English, American, and French. Germany decided to immigrate people who wanted to go to Brazil, Canada and the U.S. We were repatriated to the British zone, and lived in a DP camp, a Displaced Persons camp. This was for people who didn’t want to go back to their own countries, and we didn’t want to go back. The Russians were bitter towards the Baltic people; they would ship you to Siberia if you said something they didn’t like. We stayed in the camp for five years. That’s where I went to high school and learned how to play soccer. Life wasn’t very good, but it was better than wandering around. In order to immigrate to another country, you needed to have a sponsor who would guarantee that you wouldn’t be a burden. My mother had a neighbor in Lithuania that she had known since childhood, who was living in Hartford, Connecticut. She sponsored us, took us in, and found employment for us.  It was a very small house— my brother and I slept on the porch, and it was kind of cold. Lithuanian farmers gave us work. They would pick us up in a pickup truck every morning, we’d work in the fields all day, and then they’d bring us back at night. I worked full time and went to school at night to study English. It was a mile from where I lived, and I walked. It wasn’t very far.” To be continued…Click here to read Part 2. 

Vietnam Veteran, Recipient of the Purple Heart, Creator of the SC Blinded Veterans Association Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Jerry A. Quinn, as told in his own words.  by Melissa LaScaleia “I was born in Union, SC on June 6, 1947. I went to elementary school in Buffalo, SC, then Union High School. I was drafted on November 28, 1966, for the Vietnam War. I completed basic training at Fort Gordon, Georgia, and advanced infantry training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Then I was sent home for ten days before they flew me out to Oakland, CA to board TWA for my flight to Vietnam.  My feeling about the war was, if it had a reason, I wanted to be involved. My entire family on both sides were military people. But I didn’t know it would turn out like it did.  I was put in the first infantry division, known as the Big Red One. My base camp was Di An, Vietnam. I went through a week of jungle school and then was sent out to the jungle itself with my company. I was in the third platoon, where I became a squad leader.  Vietnam had monsoons six months of the year, and tremendous heat. They had hogs laying around in their yard as big as Volkswagens but they wouldn’t eat them; they’d eat rats that they caught instead.   Then an officer I admired, Captain Shapeland, became my commanding officer and he wanted to form a recondo squad. I was selected to be a part of that team. I turned down two promotions to stay in the recondo squad, that’s how much I liked doing it and how much I respected Captain Shapeland.  Our job was to neutralize any land mines; and handle demolition or additional threats, like snipers, outside of the confines of the concertina wire.  My captain made all the difference in the world in terms of operations and safety. The day I was hit, we had a different captain. And he died shortly thereafter.  At this point, I was the acting sergeant. Captain Shapeland had just left to go into intelligence, and the new captain sent my squad into the jungle. We walked up a number of rice paddies, when suddenly machine guns opened up on us from the wood line; the woods were filled with Vietcong, and we had to fall back.  My squad had just got inside the wood line when I called the captain and told him that the enemy had open-fired on us. He gave the order to hold our ground and said he would send artillery in to back us up. But when the artillery arrived, they started dropping bombs, and they got so close, they were hitting us. So then the captain told us to fall back.  The guy that carried my radio was my RTO. He went down with a round of RPG (rocket-propelled grenade), and he had been in Vietnam for three days. I was hit by the same round, from my knee caps through my head.  We were sitting ducks. Then our side sent in the gunships with the 50 calibers on them to fire on the Vietcong. Since we were out of the wood line, they could work the artillery successfully and medivacked me out.  At this point, I had been there for nine months. They took me to Japan where it was discovered I was bleeding internally. I was a mess. I stayed in that hospital in Japan for a month. And during that time, I saw everything that could happen to a soldier because it was right there all around me.  While I was in Vietnam, I saw four guys from my hometown; two were killed and two made it back.  Buffalo Methodist Church in my hometown of Union raised all kinds of money so my mother could stay with me for six months because she couldn’t afford to come and stay. Then I was sent to Walter Reed hospital in Washington, D.C. A lot of people from Union, SC came to see me there. I was there when Dwight D. Eisenhower was there. I didn’t have my right mind in me for a long time. I was hit January 5, and released from the hospital December 18.  I was twenty years old when I finally got out. I had been in the hospital so long, I had gained a lot of weight which made everything a struggle. And my brain was really messed up, and initially I was blind. I couldn’t be responsible for what I said. If I wanted a hamburger, I’d ask for a pencil. I had numerous brain surgeries; they had to cut pieces of my brain out.  In 1973, I went to Edward Hines hospital in Chicago, and it gave me a new outlook on life. I joined the Blinded Veterans Association. Later, I formed the South Carolina Blinded Veterans Association; I’ve been a national officer for them.  I went to college and graduated from the University of South Carolina, and Wofford College. My major was in psychology. Then I went to work in Daytona, Florida as a food vendor; then two places in Columbia, SC and one place in Akon, SC. I owned my own business. But in Daytona, my wife’s health really went downhill. So I had to quit there and we moved back to SC so I could focus more on her health.  I … Read more

A Submarine Naval Veteran From the ‘60s Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Glenn Hero, as told in his own words. This is the final chapter of a two-part series, continued from last month. Click here to read Part 1.  by Melissa LaScaleia “When I got off the Triton, I was sent to the Torsk SS 423, which sank the last ship in WWII. It’s in Baltimore now as a tourist attraction at the Inner Harbor. While I was on it, we went to Ireland. On the way, we ran into a Noreaster, and consequently, 50-foot waves.  The Navy has some unique regulations. One of those being, if you’re crossing shipping lanes, you have to be either submerged at 500 feet deep, or on the surface. The test depth of the Torsk was 325 feet, and we were crossing shipping lanes, so we had to be on the surface. And since we were, we had to have one officer and one lookout on the deck at all times.  It fell to my lot to be the lookout. And the waves were so high that they had to chain me to the deck to prevent me from being washed overboard. Believe it or not, I wasn’t scared. And the chains worked.  This was during the ‘60s. We were engaged in NATO operations and mock war games in the event of a war. I had a clearance where I could decode crypto messages. It was our job to go in and lay mines down, but we got sunk before we could.  Afterwards, I was transferred to the Argonaut SS475 because the Torsk was going to the Mediterranean for six months, and I had four months left on my contract.  The Argonaut was also used in WWII, and received one battle star from that time. I was enlisted for a total of 3 years, 9 months, and 27 days. And I remember that so precisely because, as yeoman, I typed up my own discharge papers. After I was discharged, I attended a variety of colleges. I started at Pace College in NYC, then transferred to Fullerton Junior College in California, and then transferred to Humboldt State in Eureka. Somewhere along the way, I decided forestry would be a good career, so I changed my major from accounting to that. But in the ‘60s, everybody was going into some field that was ecological, and there weren’t enough jobs. So I transferred back to accounting, and ended up graduating from Virginia Commonwealth University.  I remained in the accounting industry for the duration of my career. My wife and I have lived in Pawleys Island for the past eleven years. We were living in Charlotte, and I had a client who lived in Pawleys. When we came to visit, we really liked it and decided to move here.  Today, I’m the commander of the Pawleys Island American Legion, and a member of the Myrtle Beach USSVI Submarine Base— it’s also called the Grand Strand base.”

A Submarine Naval Veteran From the ‘60s Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Glenn Hero, as told in his own words. This is Part 1 of a two-part series. Click here to read part 2.  by Melissa LaScaleia I was born in Worthington, Ohio, number four in a lineup of eight children. In the second grade, we moved to Groton Long Point, Connecticut— seventeen miles from the naval submarine base. There were a lot of officers stationed in my hometown; the captain of the Thresher lived on my street. In April 1963, his submarine went down and all hands were lost.  Growing up in the ’50s, the officers would take us to the base movie theatre on Saturdays; it was a real treat for us. Perry Hall, the captain of the submarine, Bang, had nine children and also lived in my neighborhood. So we were always a big crowd at the movie theatre. And outside, they had one and two-man submarines on display that we would climb on until shore patrol came by and chased us off.  Because I lived right on the water, I was always swimming. So between this and my experience with the officers as a boy, when I decided to join the military, it seemed natural to me to sign up with the Navy, and to volunteer for submarines. I joined in October 1962.  In order to get into submarines, you have to pass various tests to make sure you can withstand the change in cabin pressure. And, you also have to have all the fillings in your teeth drilled out and filled with pressure fillings so your teeth don’t crack.  As part of the first test, we had to go to the submarine tender where they have a decompression chamber. Normally, four people would be comfortable in there; they put twelve of us inside, then increased the pressure gradually until you got to the equivalent pressure of fifty feet underwater.  As they increased the pressure, it would affect someone, and when they would start to yell, they would let that person out, then begin again. By the end, there were only three of us left. And once you passed that, then you went to submarine school for two months.  There, I learned all the different systems on a submarine. There were also more tests to ensure you could withstand pressure and water simultaneously— one took place in a 140-foot tower filled with water, which slowly increases in pressure. For me, these tests were a piece of cake.  Once I graduated, I was assigned to the Triton SSRN 586, in Norfolk, VA. It was the first submarine to go around the world underwater. Two of my other brothers also went into submarines, and one was on the Triton two years before me.  Once I was assigned, then I had to qualify, which means having a functional knowledge of all the electrical, hydraulic, and pneumatic components of each compartment. Once I passed, I received my dolphins, the submarine insignia. Then we were sent on patrol.  My job was to stand watch for four hours at a time at either the bow planes, the helm, or the stern. I was also the yeoman— I performed the functions of clerk and bookkeeper.  On the submarine we went hundreds of feet deep, at a speed in excess of 20 knots. One patrol we stayed submerged for 79 consecutive days. It’s a long time to be underwater.  That was why for me, when everybody complained about lockdown during Covid, I thought it was a piece of cake.”  To be continued. Click here to read Part 2. 

U.S. Marine Corp Veteran, and Mrs. Claus to her Santa Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Trish Parris as told in her own words. Today she lives in Myrtle Beach with her veteran husband and Santa to her Mrs. Claus role, Dale. Click here to read his story.  by Melissa LaScaleia  I’m from Jackson, Tennessee, one of four siblings; the baby of the family. Other than my dad serving in WWII, as most dads did back then, I’m the only sibling who chose to go into the military, mainly because I didn’t have a lot of options. I wasn’t a great student. And I was 19 years old, divorced and had a little baby, and I needed a way to support myself and make money. I knew the military had great benefits. I decided to join the Marines. I truly don’t know why I picked that branch. I walked in off the street to the main recruiting office for all branches of the military, walked into the Marine Corps office and said, ‘What do I need to do?’ And the recruiter there looked at me and said, ‘We don’t take women.’ I was really shocked. This was December 1977, two weeks before Christmas. So I turned to leave, and as I did, I bumped into the other recruiter coming in the door. And he said, ‘Hello, can I help you?’ And I said, ‘Well, I was going to sign up to join the Marines, but they just told me they don’t take women.’ And he said, ‘Well, technically, no, but come on in and sit down and let’s see if we can work something out.’ Basically they had a quota to fill for men, and if they had a woman who met all the criteria then they would look to see if they had a job that was appropriate for a woman and put me in that spot. Because back then, women were never assigned to combat units. Initially, I was disqualified because I had a child. But I actually ended up going to court and turning temporary custody over to my family to care for my child so I could go to boot camp. I went to Parris Island, South Carolina for boot camp. They sent me to administration school, I was going to be admin. Back then, as you got close to graduation time, the person who was graduating top in their class gets their pick of duty stations to go to. There were 50 of us in class, 49 openings in Okinawa, Japan, and one opening in Washington, D.C. The Japanese tours were unaccompanied tours, meaning you couldn’t take family with you. So the only way for me to get my daughter back was to make sure I graduated first and pick Washington, D.C. I did. And ended up staying in the D.C. area for most of my career. That was also where I met my husband, Dale, in 1978. I worked in administration until I was selected to work as a classified courier, transporting classified documents between the Pentagon and other buildings in the area. In the Marine Corps, you get transferred to a different location every three or four years. But I kept getting transferred to locations in the D.C area because of my classified clearances. Those clearances are expensive and valuable, so they wanted to keep me in the area. I was extremely fortunate that throughout my career, they moved me blocks away instead of states away. Dale and I were married by now, and had bought a house in the area. Because of my credentials, I was assigned to the commandant of the Marine Corps, the head of the Marines. I stayed with his office for three years. When it came time for me to transfer, his office arranged for me to go down the street and work in the secretary of the Navy’s office. I stayed there for three years. When it came time for me to leave, they asked me where I wanted to go. I told them I wanted to go to Quantico, VA because it was down the street from my house. I was assigned to the Presidential Helicopter Squadron, HMX-1. They are an incredibly tight-knit group, and there aren’t many women— it was still an old-school old boy’s club, and I was not very welcomed. But I did well. Then I got orders from there to go to Japan. It was 1988. But I got pregnant. It wasn’t my intention, but it happened. And at a certain point they won’t let you travel when you’re pregnant, so my orders got canceled, and they sent me back to Arlington, to headquarters for the Marine Corps. I went out on maternity leave, then returned to Quantico as an instructor at Officer Candidate School— the officers version of bootcamp. I then spent three years as a recruiter for the Marine Corps, still in Virginia.  I eventually went to Okinawa, and spent one year over there with a helicopter squadron. I ended my career in Arlington, and retired in 1998. I had been in the military for twenty years and wanted to do something different. I wanted to be home with my second child and spend my time doing family and church-related things. I volunteered a lot at the school where my daughters were; I drove a school bus; I was a substitute teacher; I did all kinds of … Read more

A WWII Navy Veteran Who Served in the South Pacific Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran completes the story of Bob German, a WWII veteran, as told in his own words. Click here to read part 1.  by Melissa LaScaleia “She gave birth to a daughter, Dorothy, who was adopted at birth by Heidi’s close friends. Dorothy grew up thinking she was the natural-born daughter of that family. She married and had a boy and a girl, and the girl married and has two children as well. I didn’t find out until October of last year that not only do I have a daughter, but also grandchildren and great-grandchildren. My granddaughter did a DNA test and discovered that she had genes that matched mine perfectly. We all connected via Zoom for the first time. Everybody thinks it’s fun. Then my granddaughter called me one day and asked if I thought we had any more relatives we didn’t know about. I laughed and said, “I don’t think so.” Back on the ship in the Southern hemisphere— this was my fourth patrol run. And we were engaged in what was called a battle surface— meaning we were using the deck to fire on the enemy. A shell was being passed to a man above me, but he missed it, and it slipped, and it knocked me completely out. Our base station had been relocated from Australia to Guam Island, and four days later we reached the island. By that point, we were just south of Malaysia and the Philippines, and we had sunk all the enemy ships in that area. They transferred me to the hospital ward on the submarine tender they had moved from Fremantle, Australia. From there they shipped me to the hospital on Guam. Then they flew me to Pearl Harbor. From there I was transferred to San Diego hospital. All in all, I was in the hospital for about two months. My doctor came in one day and asked me what I wanted to do. I told him that I wanted to go back to sea. And he told me that I was going to be honorably medically discharged instead. So that ended my term in the Navy. I came back to Baltimore where I was born after I was discharged. I got a job with the Coast Guard installing diesel engines and went to high school at night for two years. When I had enough credits, I went to the University of Maryland for college and got a degree in industrial engineering. After I graduated, I went to work for the government. I wanted to get into sales and international sales because of the overseas contacts I had— I thought it would be interesting to get into printing foreign currency. I ended up going into domestic sales at a bank note company for the next forty years instead. I printed stock certificates and bonds for various corporations, and made the titles for thirty-eight states. It was quite interesting what I did. I moved to Chicago for some time, and then back to the East coast, where the company bought my wife and I a home in New Jersey. After twenty-five years, they made me vice president of the company. Then they wanted me to take over a position in Pittsburg. It was the plum of the company. I took over all of Ohio, West Virginia, and the lower part of Michigan too. I made a lot of money for myself and for the company. It wasn’t a job, it was a joy. I retired on 01/01/01. It was an easy number to remember. I’ve been retired for twenty-one years now. We built a home down here because my wife has a sister who lives here. And I’ll make it my permanent home this year. My first wife and I had three children. My eldest was 74 years old and living in Pittsburg when he died of a heart attack. My daughter passed away when she was 52 years old, of an incurable cancer. My other son, Mark, is 64 years old, and is a real estate appraiser. He lives in Annapolis, Maryland. And I have one Australian daughter. My first marriage ended because my wife was an alcoholic. After the divorce, I took care of her for the next ten years until she died. My second wife of seven years died in my arms of a heart attack. And I’ve been married to my third wife for twenty-three years now. Being married and raising children was a big part of my life. I’m 97 years old, and in three more years I’ll be 100. The Angler and the Bluefish both have reunions with the guys who served on these boats after WWII. The Bluefish passed a rule, that as long as Bob German is alive, the reunion will be held in Myrtle Beach every two years. The Angler 240 holds a reunion every year because of the number of deaths every year. We are running out of WWII veterans. I’m the last WWII veteran from both boats. WWII boats were kept in service until nuclear submarines were built. Now there are nuclear vets reunion groups. Bluefish had such a good record, that an early nuke was named Bluefish.”

U.S. Marine Corp Veteran and Mr. Claus Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Dale Parris as told in his own words. Today he lives in Myrtle Beach with his Mrs. Claus, veteran, Trish Parris. by Melissa LaScaleia “I was born in Spartanburg, SC in 1948. After high school I attended community college, but I was tired of school. I had always wanted to be in the Marine Corps because I had an uncle who was a Marine during the WWII era. He always referenced those days and told me that I couldn’t make it; I wanted to prove him wrong.  I joined in 1967. Vietnam was ongoing, and I assumed I’d be going too. I went to Parris Island, SC for boot camp and from there was sent to Vietnam. I was stationed outside of Danang, Vietnam, south of the DMZ for eighteen months. I was assigned to work with a bulk fuel supply company as their armorer. It was my job to handle all of their weapons.  One day, the ammunition dump, the place where we stored all the ammunition, caught on fire and we had to evacuate the entire compound. Whether it was attacked by the enemy or an accident, we never could figure out, but it was a dangerous situation because it was burning for several days and then exploded.  At a certain point, some of us went back to retrieve a few things. We were able to salvage some of the alcohol from the officer’s club and took it with us to our new temporary compound. That was a blessing.  When I was in Vietnam, I was young and I didn’t know what was going on in the states in terms of demonstrations and protests. I just wanted to be in the Marines. It was just a job for me that I took one day at a time, and I didn’t have any reservations about being there. In ‘Nam I was exposed to Agent Orange; I did have some health repercussions in the early 2000s.  After my tour abroad, I received orders to return to Parris Island as a drill instructor, where I spent the next three and a half years. Parris Island is the Marine Corps Recruiting Depot for the East Coast. Initially I was rather nervous about the position since I had only been in the Marine Corps for two years.  Then I changed my job to the counterintelligence field with the Marines. From there I had assignments with the Naval Investigative Service (NIS); today it’s NCIS. Then I was assigned to Marine Headquarters near the Pentagon, in Arlington, Virginia. After that, I worked in the Pentagon for the Air Force Office of Investigations (OSI). I met my wife Trish in 1978 when I was stationed in Arlington.  I never meant to stay in the marines past four years. But I had a good experience as a drill sergeant on the field, and I enjoyed my time in Vietnam. In counterintelligence, I was assigned to Japan and the Philippines.  Out of everything I did throughout my career, my most memorable experience was being on the drill field as a drill instructor. It was a totally different type of assignment; it was very independent. I had multiple platoons of sixty troops each that I was teaching and training to be Marines. I got to lead classes and teach about weapons. There were many things I had never done before, and I learned a lot.   I retired from the Marine Corps in 1990, and took a job as an investigator working for the federal government with the Office of Special Counsel. In 2008 I retired from the federal government.  In 1995, our youngest daughter was in the first grade. And the elementary school asked if I would consider playing Santa for their Breakfast With Santa event in December. They asked because I had been doing some volunteer work and they thought I’d be good interacting with children.  My initial reaction was, “Hell no! I’m not some little old fat elf, I’m a Marine!” But I thought about it, and then came around to thinking that maybe I could. But I told them that I wouldn’t be Santa unless my wife, Trish, was there as Mrs. Claus to back me up. Unfortunately their old Santa suit didn’t fit me. And the Mrs. Claus dress didn’t fit my wife. So Trish sewed us both costumes at night after our daughter went to bed. And I went to a costume shop and bought a wig and a beard.  We had never met another Santa, and I had no idea how to be one beyond ho, ho, ho. So I had to figure out how to do it. It was really comical. We laughed a long time as I stood in front of a mirror trying to act like Santa. Then we did the event for the school, and that was it.  But then, when the next year rolled around, the school principal called again, and asked if we’d mind visiting some people’s houses as Santa. So we did a few of those that year. And each year, more and more people were asking us to come and visit them for their party. We would go and were just winging it, doing it as we went.  My suit for the first ten years as Santa was the suit Trish made. My boots were snow boots from Walmart. In 2004, … Read more

A WWII Navy Veteran Who Served In the South Pacific: Part 1 of 2 Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Bob German as told in his own words. To be continued in next month’s Celebrate Our Veteran column. Click here to read Part 2.  by Melissa LaScaleia “I was born on July 17, 1924, at 438 Ilchester Ave., in Baltimore, Maryland. It’s been said that if you have something significant happen to you, you will always remember it. And I remember so much of my life, good events and bad.  When I was three years old, my mother was in the hospital and my father took me to visit her. On the way inside, I took three stones off a planter and put them in my mouth. When I got to her room to see her, she looked at me and said, “Bobby, come here.” I shook my head no, and refused to go.  Then she said more sternly, “Bobby, I said come here.” So I did. And she scooped the stones out of my mouth and asked me, “What did you do that for?”  I said, “Mommy, I brought you present.”  This is my first memory. My mother kept those stones until she died at 105 years old.  Every summer, from the age of six to sixteen, I stayed with my grandparents in Virginia. My mother had her own business as a beautician, and she couldn’t watch me and run her business at the same time. My parents remodeled our home so that the kitchen was downstairs and the beauty parlor was on the first floor. At that time, it cost 25 cents for a woman to have her fingernails painted, and the same amount for a shampoo and to have your hair set.  At the end of every summer, I didn’t want to come back; I guess you could say I was over-loved. In 1939, I dropped out of high school and started an apprenticeship as a tool and die maker. I didn’t want to be drafted into the army, so I enlisted in the Navy on December 12, 1941, five days after the bombing of Peal Harbor.  I was 17 years old when I first attempted to join. I brought the papers home and gave them to my Dad to read and sign. He read them and looked at me and asked, “Are you sure?” And I said, “Yes I am.” So he handed them to my Mom, and she started to scream. She said, “No enlisting now.”  Drafting began when you were eighteen years old, and I didn’t want to be drafted. I wanted to choose my own path and go into the Navy. But my mom wouldn’t sign the papers. So I had to wait three months or so, until I turned 18 and could join on my own.   The flag from the U.S.S. Bluefish hangs on Bob’s wall. There were twenty-six houses on each side of the street that I lived on in Baltimore. And there were 48 people from them who served in WWII. It was the largest entry of males and females into the service of any city in the U.S. To celebrate, they hung a cable across the street and suspended the American flag from it, as well as a flag with the same number of stars on it as people who had volunteered from our street.  At the end of the war, all 48 came back alive. And we had all been in every branch of the military— Marines, parachute jumpers, Army, Navy. And there were no hazards either. I guess we were street smart. And those on submarines, which I was, suffered a 53% casualty rate– the largest percentage of death tolls of all branches of the military.  Because I had two years under my belt already of real-world experience, they automatically gave me a designation of MM2C— a motor mate second class. That was my rating. I served in the Navy until two months before the end of the Japanese surrender in World War II.  During the time I served in WWII, I made three patrol runs. Two on the submarine Angler 240, and one on Bluefish 222. Those submarines sank 30 enemy ships during the war.  We set off from Midway Island on our first patrol run, and we hit a small patrol boat and sank that with our deck guns. Three days later we came across four Japanese convoy ships that were headed for the Marshall and Gilbert Islands to resupply the enemy with soldiers and supplies— two tankers and two merchant ships. We carried twenty-four torpedos with us and used well over half of them in sinking those four ships. So we turned around and headed back to Midway to refuel the boat. After three days, a Japanese submarine spotted us on the surface and shot four torpedos at us. We didn’t have anything to attack them. But we managed to escape.  After we refueled, that’s when we were sent on a rescue mission. There were American, Dutch, English, and Philippine citizens trapped on the island of Panay. They were being protected during the war by the guerrilla natives of Panay, who were hiding these people in the jungle and in caves. If the Japanese had found them, they would have suffered terribly at their hands.  The guerrilla chieftain had sent word to General McArthur in Australia to coordinate a rescue mission. The Japanese were … Read more

Vietnam Veteran, Air Force Security Policeman, Lover of Lightning Bugs Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Jaime Lleras as told in his own words. Today, he lives in Myrtle Beach. by Melissa LaScaleia “I was born in Santurce, Puerto Rico, on March 11, 1950. My parents immigrated to the U.S. mainland with me in 1954. I grew up in Brooklyn, NY. In 1968, after high school, I received a draft card to go to Vietnam. I decided to volunteer for the military because I didn’t want to be forced to go to Vietnam as part of the Army.  Back in the ‘60s in major cities, instead of driving, police officers used to do what was called walk the beat— they would walk the neighborhood to make sure all was well. Consequently, they got to know the people and residents; a lot of time, they got to be like family. Growing up, I was inspired by the police officer who walked our neighborhood. I really wanted to be a baseball player, but I told myself that if that didn’t work out, then I would become a police officer too. So when I joined the U.S. Air Force, I enlisted as security police.  I completed my basic training at Amarillo Air Force Base in Amarillo, Texas. And I was stationed at Hamilton Air Force Base in San Rafael, California, north of San Francisco. After one and a half years, I decided to volunteer to go to Vietnam.  I had heard a lot of the security police officers say that Vietnam was a good tour because there was little combat for them, great pay, and no taxes. I kept getting turned down for other places I volunteered— Italy, Germany, Puerto Rico, Spain— so I decided to volunteer for Vietnam.  I was stationed in Binh Thuy Air Force Base, 50 miles south of Saigon. It wasn’t a militarized zone, but we still got hit with rockets and mortars every month. We never got any serious injuries, but a couple of our aircraft did get damaged. It was nothing very serious while I was there.  I was assigned as a security police officer in Vietnam— I was a sergeant E4. I had to make sure that everything on the base was secure because it was vulnerable to enemy infiltration. So, I would drive the base perimeter, hold watch at the towers, and guard the aircraft and personnel. I also worked in the armory, repairing and administering weapons.  One night, as I stood guard on a tower on the perimeter road facing the Bassic River, I saw through my night goggles flashing lights that were going on and off between two trees on the other side of the riverbank. It seemed to me as though some sort of signaling was going on.  So, I reported it to the Combat Security Control desk. A while later, the desk sergeant came back on the radio with an ‘all-clear’ response. That concerned me, because as I kept looking at the trees, I continued to see the signaling. So about thirty minutes later, I called it in again. The desk sergeant checked with the out-post and returned with an ‘all-clear’ response again. After the third time I called in this activity, a vehicle stopped at the bottom of the tower. It was my flight chief. Upon reaching my post, he asked me to explain to him what I was seeing. Then he took the night goggles and scanned the tree line, grunting as he did so as if he agreed with me.  Then he turned to me and said, “Boy, where are you from?” To which I proudly replied, “Brooklyn, NY, sir,” thinking he was impressed with my skills.  “Brooklyn!” he said. “How old are you?”  “Nineteen sir.”  He admonished me accompanied by prolific swears then asked:  “Are you stupid or just plain dumb?”  “NO SIR!” I replied adamantly, becoming confused and alarmed.  After he shook his head for a moment he asked me, “Boy, haven’t you ever seen a lightning bug?”  “A what?” I asked.  “A lightning bug!” “NO, SIR.” He then explained to me what a lightning bug was while laughing at me so hard that he almost fell off the ladder as he left the tower post. After that, I was given the nickname of ‘Lightning Bug’ for about a month. The truth is I had never seen a lightning bug during my childhood in New York City. Roaches, for sure, but not lightning bugs. Near the base was a town called Can Tho. When we got some time off, many of us hitch-hiked a ride into the small section of Can Tho called Bensimoi, where the local bars were.  One day, the craziest thing happened to me which was also the most serious of my life. While I was in a bar having a few drinks with some of my buddies, a small South Vietnamese kid ran into the bar and out the back exit; he was being chased by an Army MP wielding a Colt 45 up in the air.  After seeing this, we decided to leave. But as I did, I walked straight into the barrel of an M-16 rifle held to my chest by another South Vietnamese. This one was maybe 16 years old and driving a jeep. He kept the gun pointed at me and said in English, “Don’t move!”  I froze in place. It was only until the Army MP … Read more

The Life and Legacy of an Air Force Veteran and Local Mechanic Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Meet Your Local Veteran column commemorates Larry Dodd, who passed away in Myrtle Beach on August 14, 2020. The story of his military service, as well as how he served our community is here recounted in an interview with his surviving children, Azure Dodd Byrd and Ryan Dodd.  This is a two part series continued from last month. Click here to read Part 1.  by Melissa LaScaleia Larry rented a small garage bay off of Hwy 544 in Surfside Beach, and quickly realized from the traffic that poured in that he was going to need a much larger space. He developed a relationship with the Conway National Bank and purchased the site of what would become Larry’s Auto Clinic in 1986.  The land that he bought was owned by Clyde Curly, a chaplain with the Air Force who met Larry in Iceland; the two became long-lasting friends right from the start. Clyde was stationed in Myrtle Beach before Larry was, and both were surprised and delighted to reconnect here. True to Larry’s nature, the Dodd and Curly families remained close. (Clyde would come to preside over the services for Azure’s wedding; Shari’s funeral in 2017; and Larry’s memorial service.)  With very little business experience, Larry took the enterprise on, and successfully ran Larry’s Auto Clinic for more than thirty years.  Throughout the ‘80s and into the early ‘90s, technology in the automotive industry was changing rapidly, and people began fixing older cars less, and buying new ones more often.  This began to present a challenge for garages all over, so Larry began tinkering with and helping people with their motorhomes. He served a large segment of the population at Ocean Lakes Campground, as it was 3.5 miles from his garage. Larry was so capable and kind, and received such good reviews for the work that he executed, that the owner of Ocean Lakes came personally to meet him and thank him.  What was a fledgling auto repair business became a booming RV repair shop.  “It was because of the approach he took,” Ryan says. “Saving the old parts to show people to explain what the problem was and what he had to fix.”  “He prided himself on being fair, honest, and affordable— probably to his financial detriment,” Azure says with a laugh. “He truly lived up to his original business motto— quality, honesty, and pride in auto repair. And it remained important to him until the end.”  Larry was so well known in the RV repair niche, that he had people from several states away who regularly either delayed repairs they knew they needed until they came to Myrtle Beach, or were towed to him from far away so that Larry could work on their RV.  Larry’s network of fellow experts was always growing, and went as far back as his USAF days. When he couldn’t figure something out, he knew with whom to collaborate in order to solve any complex problems for his customers. His fun-loving demeanor and ability to explain things to people in a way that they understood garnered him a loyal following.  “And this was before the internet was popular,” Ryan adds. “He had a client base from out of state when he couldn’t even be found online.”  Most of the time, Larry’s customers would become his friends. It was not uncommon for them to meet at some far away RV park, travel together, or meet up.  “My father would often say, ‘A stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet,’” Azure adds.  Whenever someone vacationed in Myrtle Beach, they would always look Larry up and come by for a visit.  From their childhood days, Ryan and Azure both remember a young enlisted military man whom their father regularly mentored; he was often at their home.  Over the years, Larry’s Auto Clinic has become an institution in Myrtle Beach, as people would delay repairs just to have Larry work on their car or RV. “Years later, he told us that he was in a difficult space in his life when he met our father; he was headed in the wrong direction,” Ryan says. “But that Larry was the one who supported and encouraged him to turn his life around, and he was so grateful for him.”  On November 23, 2019, Larry experienced chest pain and was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer.  “I knew it would take his life within 8-10 months no matter what,” Ryan says.  Both Ryan and Azure stopped working so they could care for Larry outside of institutions, as well as care for his business.  “After he was diagnosed with cancer, he very quickly started to decline,” Azure says. “It became profoundly heartfelt how many relationships he had. Almost every day he had technicians from out of state calling for diagnostics on things. He built relationships everywhere he went. It wasn’t just about supporting the business side of things, it was all of the interactions with all of the countless numbers of people who were a part of his life.”  “The support that we received was very touching and meaningful for us during that difficult time,” Ryan adds.  In 2020, Larry and his children ultimately decided that they should sell Larry’s Auto Clinic.  “As soon as we met Barbara and Larry White, we felt how profoundly kind and sweet they were,” Azure says. “In the end, they bought the business … Read more

Read about Retired Air Force Colonel and Former Squadron Commander, Howard Barnard.
By Melissa LaScaleia

Howard Barnard was a pilot in the U.S. Air Force with an illustrious career. He served in Vietnam, the Panama Canal Zone, the Pentagon, and here, in Myrtle Beach, when the Air Force Base was in operation. Retired Air Force Colonel and Former Squadron Commander at MBAF Base, Howard Barnard Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Howard Barnard as told in his own words. To be continued in next month’s Celebrate Our Veteran column. Click here to read Part 2.  by Melissa LaScaleia “I was born in Albany, Georgia. After high school, I went through ROTC training at the University of Georgia. I got married to my wife, Connie, in college, and graduated in 1967 and joined the United States Air Force. I had wanted to fly and be a fighter pilot ever since I could remember. My hometown of Albany was home to Turner Air Force Base, and as a youngster, I was an Eagle Scout in my church. The Assistant Scout Masters were pilots at the base, and they inspired me to want to join the Air Force. And, when I was in high school, I dated a couple of girls who had fathers that were in the Air Force. One of them was a pilot; he drove a fancy sports car. And both took me to the Officer’s Club in town to go swimming. I thought that was an amazing thing. I thought my girlfriends were exotic— they had lived all over the world. That pushed me even more towards a career in the Air Force. I was first stationed at Moody Air Force Base, Valdosta— 90 miles from my home in the same region. Then I went into the pipeline for Southeast Asia— that was the prerequisite training that you had to complete to prepare you for war. I went through fighter pilot training and then learned how to fly the OV-10— a twin-engine, turbo-prop observation aircraft. After that, I ended up at Nakhon, Phanom, Royal Thai Air Force Base in Thailand. I flew one year in combat— about 250 sorties, and about 800 hours of combat time in Laos, North Vietnam. I flew in a program called Cricket West that worked to support the Laotian army. I flew with a Laotian army officer in my back seat who was the lookout for targets to hit. One day, he told me that he always flew with a statue of Buddha in his pocket. And he wanted to give me a Buddha too. He told me that his Buddha only protected him, but he wanted to protect his pilot too. I’m a good Presbyterian boy, but I thought, this is a good idea. So we went out the next day— both with Buddhas.  That day we spotted a Polish truck that had supplies in the back, and I called for a set of fighters to come and destroy the truck. He couldn’t see the truck after we spotted it, so I made a low pass to get a better view. After the flight, I got a call from my maintenance officer who told me that I had 18 holes in my airplane. So I called the Laotian officer and I said to him, ‘How come the first day I flew with you and your Buddha, we got 18 holes in our airplane?’ And he said, ‘Maybe if we don’t have Buddhas, we not come back.’” I still have that Buddha to this day. It’s an ancient one, and a cherished souvenir. If you shake it it makes noise, because it has a prayer scroll inside of it. I stayed a year in Southeast Asia, then I went to the Canal Zone in Panama and flew A-37s for four years. It was a great time. Every time I got in a plane and flew, from my first flight to my last flight, I could not believe that I lived in such a great country that would pay me to fly fighter airplanes; and I still feel that way. The beloved Buddha of good fortune. Colonel Barnard received this Buddha as protection from a Laotian officer he flew with during Vietnam. His plane was shot at but never shot down, and he keeps it as a cherished souvenir to this day. In Panama, I was part of the 605 Special Operations Squadron. We had a two-fold mission. The first was air defense of the Panama Canal; the second was counter-insurgency and training missions for Central and South American Air Forces. This was the time when the special forces helped the Venezuelans eliminate Che Guevara. We took military training teams all over Central and South America, teaching pilots how to fly in combat. I was a young captain at the time. I also went to jump school, and jump master school, and became a parachutist. I left Panama in 1974, and was sent to Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I was an Air Liaison Officer (ALO) with the Second Brigade, 82nd Airborne— a division known as the “All American.” I spent two years with them and had a great time; I participated in jump operations all over the U.S. One day, at Fort Bragg, the military organized a jump from a helicopter into a lake to practice water landings. They asked me to participate in the exercises because of my experience. They have rubber boats with outboard motors on them that pick you up after you land in the water. It … Read more

Michael Tyler served three terms in Afghanistan before retiring from the military. Dedicated and passionate, today he runs the non-profit, Meals on Wheels in Myrtle Beach, feeding the hungry. How A Three-Time Afghanistan-Veteran Began Feeding Myrtle Beach’s Hungry Celebrate Our Veteran gives voice to the stories of the U.S. military veterans living amongst us. The actions of these brave and dedicated people, who have served our country both in active military duty as well as administrative positions, have and continue to contribute to the protection and preservation of us and our country.  We hope that this section of our paper is an opportunity for our community to hear and see veterans with new eyes, and for veterans to receive recognition and honor for their experiences and life journeys.  This month’s Celebrate Our Veteran recounts the story of Michael Tyler as told in his own words. Today he lives in Myrtle Beach.  by Melissa LaScaleia “I was born in Charlotte, North Carolina in 1986. By the time I was in second grade, we moved to Myrtle Beach. I went to St. James Elementary School and graduated from Socastee High School. I’ve always had the desire to live a life full of adventure. When I was younger I was an adrenaline junkie. And I always was seeking a higher purpose. My basketball coach in high school told us: “If you don’t have any stories to tell, you don’t have a life worth living.” And for me, that has always stuck with me. That’s why, the summer of my junior year in high school, I decided to get involved in the military and went to basic training in Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. I graduated before my senior year and entered the reserves. After that, I’d travel once a month to Raleigh, NC for a weekend drill. My mom and dad had always loved Myrtle Beach. My father died when he was thirty-three years old, and after he passed, we were able to make it our home when my mom got a job here. Because of my father’s destiny, as a youngster, I always had this fear that I wouldn’t make it past the age of 33 or 34. So I always wanted to live life to an epic status before that point. I ended up getting accepted into St. Augustine College in Raleigh, NC. After I completed two semesters there, in 2008, I decided to return to Myrtle Beach and become active duty military. My new career was in military intelligence, and I was stationed in Baltimore, MD. My first daughter was born during this time, and her mother lived in Georgia. In 2009 I deployed to Afghanistan for six months. When I returned, I became an instructor training others in my job field. One of my fellow instructors was scheduled to go to Afghanistan, and found out his wife might loose his baby. So I volunteered to take his place so he could remain with his wife, and I took his tour in Afghanistan.  Once I got back from that second deployment, I decided to re-enlist, and requested to be stationed in Georgia so I could be closer to my daughter and build a relationship with her. After six months, I was again deployed to Afghanistan for a year. After I returned home, I married a woman I had met in Baltimore during my initial enlistment and we had a son together. I served a total of ten years in the military, then decided that with as much as I had deployed, my family was more important than my being gone all the time. After I got out of the military in 2013, my wife and I decided to move back to Myrtle Beach. Not long after that, we added my youngest daughter to our family. And I started a career continuing my father’s business in landscaping. Towards the latter part of five years, I found myself unhappy with my career and life in general. I always wanted to be part of a higher purpose, and something was missing. When I was in Afghanistan, I remember one night wearing my uniform and seeing my shadow on the road in front of me and feeling so proud of my silhouette. But now, I just felt empty inside. For months on end my wife would invite me to come with her and the children to church on Sunday, and I always refused. Michael Tyler (right) in Afghanistan in 2012. An Afghan police officer (center) poses with the two U.S. soldiers. One day, I found out my grandfather was on his deathbed. I wanted to apologize to him in person before he passed away that I hadn’t been there throughout the last years of his life when he had been alone and partially blind.  Even though I was back in the states, and he lived in Charlotte, I wasn’t making the time to take his great-grandchildren to see him. I visited him and told him how I felt. He couldn’t speak, but he looked up at me and grabbed my hands and smiled. And I just began to cry. Not long after that he passed away. Over the next couple of weeks, right before his funeral, I found out that my grandfather had become involved in the church the day his son, my father, had died.  At my grandfather’s funeral, the pastor who lead the service had been best friends with both my father and grandfather. He called me, my brother and cousins up to the altar, and prayed over us. He told us, “It’s time to pick up the torch and become the men of God that your father and grandfather were.” And I was like, “Yeah, okay, whatever.” Over the years, seeing so many people die in Afghanistan, friends, soldiers, my father— death didn’t really affect me. But believe it or not, that very Sunday I ended up going to church. I couldn’t get what he had said out of my mind. And … Read more

Vietnam Veteran and Air Force Jet Engine Mechanic

This month’s Meet Your Local Veteran column is a tribute to Harry Turner. Harry passed away on May 24, 2020, but his story and legacy live on in the hearts and memory of his children and grandchildren. The story of Harry is here narrated by his daughter, Brenda Turner, who lives locally in Myrtle Beach.

Here’s the second part of October article on Celebrating our Veteran Jim Urban. Read all about his life!

“As an American, my passion for the military extends back to my roots and growing up in a small town in Augusta, Kentucky. As a kid, I would look out the window at school and see the older kids raising the American flag in the morning and taking it down in the afternoon. When I got to the 6th grade, it was always a big deal for me to be selected to help raise the flag. Written by Melissa LaScaleia.

Take a moment to celebrate our Veteran Mr. William Lincoln. Read all about his story on this months edition. Thank you for your service!

Take a moment to celebrate our Veteran Mr. Larry Williams. Read all about his story on this months edition. Thank you for your service!

On behalf of the Coastal Insider team, we’d like to give our gratitude to these wonderful and amazing veterans who have given their service for the love of their country. We thank you for all that you have done and do and your service!