This rainy Memorial Day represents well the thoughts on my heart. I’m popping up memories faster than I can process them…
- Corporal Homer Miller (my maternal Grandpa) who helped liberate France in World War I.
- Thomas Eddy (my late father-in-law) who served in the army during the Korean Conflict.
- The Nichols Boys (my uncles) of Clay, WV, who served in Vietnam: Gaynell in the Air Force, Larry and Bob in the army. Larry saw to it that Mick, the youngest, would do his tour in Germany rather than combat. Grandma sacrificed enough during those years.
Homer and Bob were both wounded in action. Larry was KIA in 1968. Today I would like to share memories of Larry as seen through the eyes of my brother, Jeff. These are his words…
A Fallen Soldier
By Jeffrey D. Nichols
A quick glance into a quaint, West Virginia home reveals three young boys tumbling across the kitchen floor as they wrestled with their uncle. Until two years earlier, this had been commonplace. The four possessed a special bond and the love they shared was obvious. This time, however, the meeting was different. Twelve months had passed since the four had last enjoyed each other’s company. The events that had transpired during those months would forever change their lives.
Halfway around the world, 200,000 United States military personnel were engaged in a deadly conflict in which just four days prior, the young uncle had been engaged as well. His name was Philip Larry Nichols. Larry had just completed his first tour of duty as a medic with the 101st Airborne Division in the Republic of South Vietnam. The year was 1966.
Fifteen days later the three boys waved good-bye to their uncle. This cycle would be repeated several times during next few years. Each time the uncle returned he was a little different. His thoughts seemed distant. His enthusiasm for life appeared to have vanished. The youngest of the boys, Jeff did not fully comprehend what was taking place. He knew each time his uncle returned, there was more of the colorful ribbons on his uncle’s uniform, but did not know why.
August 1968, Jeff stood on the bottom step while his uncle pushed his duffel bag into the trunk of the car. The -two stood, daring at each other. Neither spoke. The uncle slowly removed his hat and approached Jeff. He knelt down and placed the hat onto Jeff s head, stood up, and saluted. On the hat was a shiny gold lieutenant bar.
Jeff was barely eight years old when his father was notified that Second Lieutenant Philip Larry Nichols, then a platoon leader with the l73′” Airborne Brigade, had been killed in combat with hostile enemy forces. Vietnam had seemed so far away, but now it reached Jeff s doorstep.
As a cold November wind added to the numbness, memories of Larry raced through Jeff s mind. Tears streamed down his face. Clinched tightly in his grip was the hat with the shiny gold bar. An eerie silence was disrupted by the sound of a bugler playing Taps. Suddenly rifle fire echoed across the West Virginia hills, again echoes then once more. Silence returned engulfing family, friends, and comrades as they paid respect to a fallen soldier.
Thanks for sharing John. As I recall we were all changed a little by the events caused by the war in Vietnam. My older brother (late) wasn’t a casualty, however, many things in his life were never the same when he returned and for many years afterwords. He was my CFO for several years before his death and we got to share his experiences in the war, and reading your words both reminds me of him and the tragedies that befell many young men of the time. We both are truly blessed that peace persisted after our high school years and even if we would have been called to serve our service probably wouldn’t have been violent. Thanks again for sharing this and all your writing brother – it makes me think.
Rob Robertson
Rob, so glad your brother had you to talk with. I am certain it helped him process the events of the war. Hope you are doing well, and your kind words encourage me each time. Take good care of yourself, brother!