It hardly seems right to say “Happy Memorial Day” as it is such a solemn occasion. This day of remembrance of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice in our nation’s service dates back to May 30, 1868 when Americans took time out to honor those men who died fighting in the Civil War. The day officially became a federal holiday following World War I and was expanded to honor those fallen Americans from all wars.
In June 1990 I met Paul. I was at a barbeque hosted by a fellow crewdog with whom I had flown many hours across the Republic of Korea (ROK). Paul was a friend of the host as they had served together in Fort Lewis, Washington a few years earlier, but was not flying in the ROK as he had been assigned to a maintenance company. Paul, whose name was really James, but went by his middle name for reasons I never knew, asked if I could help get him reassigned to my unit, the Innkeepers, in a flying capacity. I liked him and thought he’d make a great addition to our band of crewdogs. He was intelligent, funny, confident, and sarcastic and seemed genuinely eager to get back to flying. I promised to try. We both had heard the rumors that a Chinook unit had stood up in Italy and were trying for an assignment there. Paul was one-half Italian and his mother lived there, moving back to Italy after his father died; I could see his motivation for wanting the assignment. My motivation came more from a dose of wanderlust I had running through my veins.
In 1915, Moina Michael wrote the following poem after attending a Memorial Day Service in New York:
We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
And the tradition of wearing red poppies on one’s lapel on Memorial Day began.
In October 1991 I met Scott. Scott was a young private arriving at his first duty station in the Republic of Korea. He quickly demonstrated the qualities that make a good crewdog and began flight training in the CH47D Chinook. He was one of my students. Scott was from Texas and was always quick to remind us that Texans were cut from a different jib than the rest of us. His youth and exuberance were matched with a sense of humor and a “can-do” attitude that was infectious. Needless to say, Scott rapidly progressed in his training to a full-fledged crewdog.
In 1971 Congress changed the day we observe Memorial Day from May 30th to the last Monday of May.
I ran into Paul again in the fall of 1992 in Aviano, Italy. We had both been assigned to the Chinook unit that we’d wanted. There we spent four years together flying countless missions throughout Europe, the Balkans, and Africa. When a mission came down, Paul would be the first crewdog to jump on it; he wanted to make a difference. He even went as far as applying to the Army’s Aviation Special Operations unit, and was accepted though not until he left Italy. I got to know Paul on a personal level as well. We spent much of our off-duty time together at one another’s house or at the beach or in the mountains. He and his wife honored me with the responsibilities of Godfather for their youngest son Cavin. In the military, friends often become family.
I didn’t see Scott again until late in 1999 when I learned that he was back in Texas on recruiting duty. I had just found out that I too was going to do a tour recruiting for America’s Army and Scott had some sound advice for me. Much of it had to do with keeping a sense of humor. Though we hadn’t spoke for some 6 years, it was as if it had only been 6 days when we did reconnect. Camaraderie tends to run pretty deep in the military.
Today we are asked to take a moment at 3:00 pm to observe a National Moment of Remembrance and paying respect to America’s fallen heroes through a moment of silence, prayer, or the playing of Taps.
On February 22, 2002, in the still dark early morning hours, James Paul Dorrity made the ultimate sacrifice for our nation when his MH47E Chinook helicopter crashed into the sea off the Coast of Basilan Island of the Philippines. Paul died flying his helicopter in the fight against the evil of terrorism. Paul died a warrior, a warrior with whom I am proud to have served. Paul is survived by his wife and two sons.
On April 3, 2003 Scott Jamar’s helicopter took heavy fire from Iraqi positions below resulting in his UH60 Black Hawk crashing into the desert of central Iraq killing all aboard. Scott taught us all that freedom isn’t free, unselfishly paying the ultimate price for ours. Scott is survived by his daughter and son.
This memorial day comes on the heels of the end of major hostilities in both Afghanistan and Iraq and many of my brothers and sisters in arms have joined the ranks of fallen heroes so that we may enjoy a long weekend, a barbeque, a day at the beach, or a couple of cold beers. I will be taking a moment this afternoon at 1500 to listen to Taps, raise my glass and remember not just my fellow crewdogs who have earned yet another set of wings, but all the men and women who have over the years died for this great nation we call America. Sgt Hook out.
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