All posts by Jim

Heroes

A Pocket of Resistance, Sea Stories

This past week, i have been occupied mentally emotionally with my loss of Marty Linville, friend and golfing buddy. The day he passed along that bridge, Friday, July 5, we had two visitors in the late afternoon.

Like Marty, they are heroes. Darryl Gunter and Chris Holtzman are heroes, success stories really.

Our two visitors stopped by because Darryl and i go back a long way. Darryl was a third class boiler technician on the USS Yosemite (AD 19) when i became the executive officer and deployed to the Indian Ocean. Darryl was one of the fireroom geniuses that used oversized burner plates for the boilers to get us to Rota as scheduled.

After twelve years, he left the Navy, graduated from Georgia Tech with a degree in mechanical engineering, and established Atlanta Boiler and Mechanical, a successful company. He is semi-retired and one of his sons manages the company.

Darryl and i reconnected on the Yosemite’s Facebook group. The reconnection has been good. i have noted earlier Darryl, out of the blue, sent me coasters with the Castle Heights seal, my graduation year, my rank and my name. They occupy a prominent place in our family room, and i use one every evening.

When Darryl told me he was going to be out here and would like to stop by, i was excited. i began to do a bit of research. In addition to starting and making Atlanta Boiler and Mechanical a success, Darryl has done some other things. He is the Atlanta “Chapter Commander” of the Combat Veterans Motorcycle Association. This is not a motorcycle club. This is an association of veterans who saw combat and enjoy motorcycle riding as a hobby.

The association’s focus is not riding bikes. They “support and protect those who have defended our country and our freedoms,” providing assistance and help to individual veterans, veteran care facilities, other veteran organizations and registered charities.

Chris and Darryl on the road.

The stories these two heroes, Darryl and Chris, told of how they saved an old aged disabled vet from having to do a reverse mortgage; how they mowed lawns, repaired homes for other veterans, and others, made me gleam with pride.

These two are also riders for escorting veterans to their final resting places in a motorcycle escort. Darryl is a senior ride captain for the Patriot Guard Riders, who honor their lost fellow veteran.

So these two heroes decided to take a trip. They got on their bikes and took a trip. i keep writing “heroes.” i should explain why:

Darryl was on the USS Sellers (DDG 11) which was one of our ships off of Beirut when our Marines were killed in the bombing. The ship was also in a confrontation with Iran in the Persian Gulf. He has developed spinal stenosis due to a shipboard accident.

Chris was in Iraq. He was the turret gunner in an Army armored vehicle. He received 100 wounds in the conflict and suffers from PTSD.

Heroes.

And they continue being good souls looking after veterans who have had a rough time and need help.

The trip. They took off from Atlanta and in four months, went through 22 states, one Canadian province, covering over 9,200 miles in four months. Their bikes make my Mazda 3 hatchback look small.

As this trip unfolded with my following it from the cloud and when we spent the afternoon with them, it occurred to me that this was the way it should be in our country. These two guys were two of the nicest guys i’ve been with in quite a while. They are patriots but they are loyal to the country and those who served with them. They were courteous, funny, loving life, and living that life to the fullest.

They are good people and folks should not throw them into some preconceived notion about motorcycle riders, veterans, or any other category they might choose to mislabel them.

These two guys are heroes.

Thanks, Darryl and Chris (Chris took this photo)

The Way To Go

Sea Stories

“Oh, how would you like to go?” they ask,
“For you are getting to that age you know,
“Not that we are wishing you to go too soon,
“But we should be prepared…”
take me down to the water’s edge
like they did with the Vikings of old,
instead of a pyre, put me on a ship;
not a sailboat, mind you,
although that would be okay;
nor Never a new electronic-laden vessel
with fuel so clean and computers amok;
but
on an old ship,
a black-oil steam ship
and
let go all lines
with me aboard
where we would be
haze gray and underway.

Just a Bit of a Vacuum

A Pocket of Resistance

Last night, Maureen and i settled into our usual routine of watching the Padres on TV, or at least Maureen watches to somewhere around the seventh inning when she heads for the bedroom to read before sleep. You see, the anxiety she suffers in close games is difficult.

This old sportswriter has a built in inability to leave a game before the ending. As Yogi said, “It ain’t over until it’s over.” A quote attributed to Dan Cook, a San Antonio sports announcer, but i like to think it was invented by Danny Murtaugh, the manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates in the 50s and 60s was “It ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings”. Those quotes and scorekeeping imbued in me to stick around. So i did.

Friday, i watched the Padres leading the Arizona Diamondbacks, 7-2, into the 9th, only to suffer a grand slam and two-run homer to fall behind 8-7. Then, in the bottom of the 9th begins with Jurickson Profar, an all-star, tie it with a home run, and then Manny Machado hitting a walk-off (he didn’t walk, he trotted) home run to win the game 10-8. Last night, i watched them lose in the “ghost runner” 10th inning, 7-5.

Throughout both games, i felt a vacuum. Jim Hileman and i shared Padre season tickets to Padre home games. Jim, like the preponderance of folks my age, has lost interest, not just the Padres but most professional sports — Jim still follows his Pittsburgh Steelers with a passion. The last guy around here who discussed Padre baseball with me was Marty Linville.

Marty was the subject of my short tribute Friday when he crossed the bridge. i kept feeling this vacuum of not being able to call or text him about a particular play or a particular call.

When Jim and i shared those tickets and Jim, Maureen, or Sarah couldn’t go, Marty was the guy with whom i most shared our tickets. We would sit and kibbitz over our beer and hot dogs for the entire game.

In the hospital room Friday, Rod Stark noted that he and Marty had been close friends for 40 years when Marty reported to the Naval Amphibious School Coronado in the Naval Gunfire department in 1984. i reported to the leadership department nine months later. That’s 39 years of a relationship with that man.

We drank together like the old sailor and soldier we were. We played golf together. We played softball together. We traveled on golf trips together. We dined with our wives together. We shared friends together.

i wrote to my daughter Blythe that i’m sure i will not ever again pick up a golf club, drink a gin and tonic, or have a martini without feeling like something was missing.

Something will be missing: sharing those things with Marty.

Ahh, stories about Marty will abound here in the future. He was a warrior. He was my friend.