‘What gratitude we owe them’

This salute to veterans is reprinted from the Nov. 7, 2012, edition of the Times and updated. 

I was in Chicago recently when I saw, during a plane-change, a scene that stuck in my head and planted a reminder in my heart.

A tall, confident sailor wearing Navy whites was striding ahead of me down the busy O’Hare concourse when he slowed and then stopped beside an elderly man in a wheelchair who was waiting with a group of other passengers to board a flight.

The man in the wheelchair was wearing one of those ball caps with a military unit embroidered above the bill. The young sailor switched his duffle bag to the other shoulder, offered his hand to the old man in the wheelchair and bent down to say something in his ear. The old man smiled, accepted the sailor’s handshake and then, with his left hand, reached up and squeezed the young man’s shoulder.

It wasn’t hard to read his lips and know what the older man was saying: “Thank you too, son. God bless you.”

The young sailor nodded and hurried on his way.

One hero to another, pausing to say thanks.

This week, as we all hurry down life’s busy concourse, the Ozark County Times joins other Americans in taking a moment to pause and say thanks to all our men and women in uniform, now and in the past.

They’re out there now, wearing that uniform in dangerous places, standing between us and those who would do us harm. And they’re here at home too, their uniforms stored in the back of a closet or stuffed in a box under the bed. They’re fixing our vehicles and appliances, working behind desks, driving trucks that bring us goods, standing behind store counters, teaching our children, tending to our problems and ailments, keeping our community going. 

Most of them rarely mention their time in the military, whether they fought in combat or worked to keep our nation safe in other ways. But they haven’t forgotten their time spent in service to us, and neither should we. 

I’ve met and interviewed a lot of veterans during my many years in publishing, and I have some favorite stories. One was hearing Estel Pendergrass describe how his World War II service began in spring 1943 when he rode his horse Silver from his family’s home near Dora, across Bryant Creek to the Berry farm south of Rockbridge. He left Silver there and then walked 2 miles to catch the mail car into Gainesville to report to the draft board. It was an all-day trip, and it was just the beginning of the challenges still to come.

Another favorite was hearing Alford Allen tell about coming home from World War II. His parents, Herbert and Pearl Allen, had no phone or electricity, and he beat his letter home. He made his way to Springfield and caught the bus to Gaines-ville then walked 8 miles home, following the familiar paths through the fields and woods that night.

When he got about a half-mile from his family’s home near Caney Mountain, “I could hear my old dog Jack a-howlin’,” Alford said. “He come a-runnin’ down the path, … and then we walked on home together.”

The house was dark. His dad was away. His mother and younger siblings Gene, Lee and Linnie didn’t wake up as Alford eased through the unlocked door. 

“I lit the Aladdin lamp and just said, ‘Mother?’ and she come flyin’ out of the bedroom.”

Another favorite is my brother-in-law, Mike Sparks’ story that is now funny (but certainly wasn’t then) about being dropped at the end of a runway in Turkey and left to his own devices to get where he was supposed to go while carrying a briefcase full of launch codes handcuffed to his wrist. 

When Jeremy McKee described rolling into Baghdad in 2002, the point of the spear in the invading force, I broke into a sweat, imagining what it was like in the belly of that cramped Bradley vehicle, charging into war. 

I marveled at David Stevens recounting how his Gainesville family rarely knew where he was when he was serving “out front” in Vietnam, just like his dad, Skeeter Stevens’ family had not known where Skeeter was during World War II.  And yet when David’s son Paul went to war in Iraq, David could call up Paul’s location on Google Earth.

I stared a long time at the photo of Dirk Timpe standing on the edge of a bleak, mountaintop outpost in eastern Afghanistan on the Pakistan border, pondering what it must be like to be so far from home, facing so difficult a task.

And then I cried when Matthew England’s body came home … 

What challenges these veterans have faced. What sacrifices they’ve made. What gratitude we owe them.

Very few, if any, Ozark County veterans came home to march in grand parades and hear the roar of thanks from a grateful nation. 

So it’s up to us individuals, every day, to stop in our rush down life’s busy concourse and say thank you, veterans. 

Whatever you did, wherever you served, we thank you.

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2020 update: The World War II veterans mentioned in this story are no longer living. Skeeter Stevens died in 2011 at age 90, Alford Allen died in 2014 at age 89, Estel Pendergrass died in 2015 at age 91. 

Skeeter Stevens’ son, David, is mostly retired but still farming; he lives with his wife, Barbara, in Gainesville. Paul Stevens lives in Orlando, Florida, with his wife, Jamie, and their three kids. He is a utilities buyer for Holiday Retirement, a company that owns and operates 250 independent living communities around the country. 

Michael Sparks, a retired Army vet and former telecommunications executive, lives in Raymore with his wife, Mary Ruth Luna Jones.

Jeremy McKee works for West Plains-based Shield Solutions, a business and school security company, and he’s also a firefighter with Dora Volunteer Fire Department. He lives in Dora with his wife, Amanda, and their son, Jackson, 8.

Dirk Timpe and his wife, the former Suzanne Bentley, celebrated their 15-year anniversary this summer. They live with their three children in Blue Springs, where Dirk is a fleet manager for a food distributor.

Matthew England, who died June 8, 2011, in Iraq when enemy forces attacked his unit with an improvised explosive device. He is buried in the Missouri Veterans Cemetery near Fort Leonard Wood. He was 22.