Greg Meyer
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Corporal Thomas Michael Whitfield, of the famed 7th Cavalry Regiment died, along with 8 other members of the 7th on November 25, 1968, while most Americans were thinking of Thanksgiving and Christmas.
For whatever reason I thought of Mike yesterday. In August of 1968 (I don't remember the exact date) Mike and I had donuts and coffee the morning I drove him to the airport in St. Louis in his beloved Mercedes coupe. (He drove down and I drove it back home for him) I wore my uniform that day (although I was on leave) as a tribute to my friend. We were quite a pair, a relatively newly minted Marine 2nd Lt and an impressively dressed "Air-Cav" Pfc. He was leaving for California and shipping out from there for Vietnam. I never saw Mike again. By the time of his funeral I too was "there". It was not until after Christmas that my father wrote me and told me that Mike had been killed.
But, back to that last morning. We did not dwell on the war or really even discuss it, except to promise we would look each other up if or when I got there. That never happened, things moved way too fast. But, we did talk of our dreams for the future. Mike wanted to be a rock star (he had been in several bands and had one of his own for a brief time after high school). We talked all about his desire to completely restore his Mercedes and the high cost of parts from Stuttgart. I "planned" to replace the then "exhorbitantly expensive" ($35 or so) leather shift knob that had been stolen out of it when we left it somewhere while we did something. I thought that would be a great gift for him when he came home. I planned to get back home to law enforcement. We were really very typical. We thought we were accustomed to our "roles" as "warriors", or so we believed. We were after all, invincible and immortal. And, that is my point. While we were in the military, we thought of ourselves as "plan people" doing a job.
On this 4th of July I had a moment to reflect on the fact that my nephew, the sons and daughters of friends and family...the sons and daughters of friends from here are all either remembering simialr conversations with their buddies and friends or about to have them. They live for their dreams. They are America's finest. They are very competent warriors, but they are first and foremost just like you and I. They too have their dreams and hopes for the future. I hope and pray that every one of them will come home to those hopes and dreams. But, the reality is, some will not. Just like my friend Mike, they do not dwell on the risks they face. They have their dreams. It is those collective dreams for the future that makes them who they are... The fact that they may never live to see those dreams does not deter them... The opportunity to have them is what motivates them.
On the 4th we celebrate the birth of this great nation. Well, yesterday, I celebrated that historic birth and also the "rebirth" of this great nation each and every day. Ours is a living freedom, one earned and birthed with the expenditure of blood and treasure in the latter part of the 18th century. And, one reborn with the expenditure of blood and treasure by each succeeding generation. I am so very proud of the great young men and women who see their duty to this country so clearly that they volunteer to place their lives... their futures... their hopes and dreams on the line to preserve the collective hopes and dreams of all Americans. Corporal Thomas Michael Whitfield is not with us physically but he is very much with us spiritually. He is alive in spirit in every one of his fellow Americans who serve now to protect our freedoms, our hopes and dreams... the future of America.
Thank you Corporal Whitfield. And, thank you all who have served in the past and are now serving the future of America.
For whatever reason I thought of Mike yesterday. In August of 1968 (I don't remember the exact date) Mike and I had donuts and coffee the morning I drove him to the airport in St. Louis in his beloved Mercedes coupe. (He drove down and I drove it back home for him) I wore my uniform that day (although I was on leave) as a tribute to my friend. We were quite a pair, a relatively newly minted Marine 2nd Lt and an impressively dressed "Air-Cav" Pfc. He was leaving for California and shipping out from there for Vietnam. I never saw Mike again. By the time of his funeral I too was "there". It was not until after Christmas that my father wrote me and told me that Mike had been killed.
But, back to that last morning. We did not dwell on the war or really even discuss it, except to promise we would look each other up if or when I got there. That never happened, things moved way too fast. But, we did talk of our dreams for the future. Mike wanted to be a rock star (he had been in several bands and had one of his own for a brief time after high school). We talked all about his desire to completely restore his Mercedes and the high cost of parts from Stuttgart. I "planned" to replace the then "exhorbitantly expensive" ($35 or so) leather shift knob that had been stolen out of it when we left it somewhere while we did something. I thought that would be a great gift for him when he came home. I planned to get back home to law enforcement. We were really very typical. We thought we were accustomed to our "roles" as "warriors", or so we believed. We were after all, invincible and immortal. And, that is my point. While we were in the military, we thought of ourselves as "plan people" doing a job.
On this 4th of July I had a moment to reflect on the fact that my nephew, the sons and daughters of friends and family...the sons and daughters of friends from here are all either remembering simialr conversations with their buddies and friends or about to have them. They live for their dreams. They are America's finest. They are very competent warriors, but they are first and foremost just like you and I. They too have their dreams and hopes for the future. I hope and pray that every one of them will come home to those hopes and dreams. But, the reality is, some will not. Just like my friend Mike, they do not dwell on the risks they face. They have their dreams. It is those collective dreams for the future that makes them who they are... The fact that they may never live to see those dreams does not deter them... The opportunity to have them is what motivates them.
On the 4th we celebrate the birth of this great nation. Well, yesterday, I celebrated that historic birth and also the "rebirth" of this great nation each and every day. Ours is a living freedom, one earned and birthed with the expenditure of blood and treasure in the latter part of the 18th century. And, one reborn with the expenditure of blood and treasure by each succeeding generation. I am so very proud of the great young men and women who see their duty to this country so clearly that they volunteer to place their lives... their futures... their hopes and dreams on the line to preserve the collective hopes and dreams of all Americans. Corporal Thomas Michael Whitfield is not with us physically but he is very much with us spiritually. He is alive in spirit in every one of his fellow Americans who serve now to protect our freedoms, our hopes and dreams... the future of America.
Thank you Corporal Whitfield. And, thank you all who have served in the past and are now serving the future of America.
