thedrifter
05-29-07, 06:41 AM
Vet gets Memorial Day surprise — a Purple Heart
By Sara Jean Green
Seattle Times staff reporter
NEAR LACEY, Thurston County — Gary Larson was getting ready to fire up the grill at his home overlooking Long Lake when he heard the first notes from a bagpipe coming from next door.
His chest heaved under his white polo shirt as a Marine in dress uniform walked up to him, followed by a color guard and a contingent of local officials and friends who descended on Larson's sun-drenched lawn Monday afternoon to witness a surprise ceremony nearly 40 years in the making.
Larson, a Vietnam vet, was finally getting his Purple Heart.
Tears slid down Larson's face as former Marine Sgt. Dave Newkirk, who lives nearby, pinned the medal to his shirt.
"It's an honor to salute people who've gone before us," said Newkirk, 33, who spent six years in the Marine Corps and raced home from vacation to present Larson with the medal given to service members injured in combat. "I'd do it 100 times over."
Andrew Oczkewicz, who lives next door to Larson and his wife, Sandy, orchestrated the Memorial Day surprise, secretly photocopying Larson's military records and using his connections with Army commanders at Fort Lewis to get Larson his Purple Heart. Oczkewicz contacted Gov. Christine Gregoire, who wrote a personal letter to Larson, calling his medal "an honor long overdue."
"Gary has always said it's not so much about him, but wanting to make sure the mistakes of Vietnam aren't repeated, and the soldiers coming home [from Iraq and Afghanistan] aren't forgotten," said Oczkewicz, 40. "It's a very special moment."
Larson, now 60, was a college student in Portland when he enlisted with the Marines. Then, the 19-year-old corporal stood 5-foot-6 and weighed about 110 pounds.
Because of his small stature, he was picked to work as "a tunnel rat," a dangerous job inspecting tunnels used by the enemy to move troops and supplies out of sight of American forces.
In August 1968, Larson and his unit were on a search mission in a remote part of Vietnam when they were ambushed by the Viet Cong. In the midst of intense fighting, the Marines called for air support: First came the napalm-dropping Cobra helicopters, followed by U.S. jets that doused the area with bombs.
"We were all mixed in with the Viet Cong," Larson recalled Monday. The bombs began falling, "and the guy in front of me didn't make it."
Larson was thrown 100 feet into a rice paddy from a bomb blast and knocked unconscious. When he came to, he ripped a piece of shrapnel from his left hand, patched himself up the best he could and dug in for a firefight that lasted through the night. Larson was later treated by a medic. He says he suffers no lasting effects from the injury.
"We lost over 50,000 troops over there," said Larson, who moved to the Lacey area in the early 1970s to attend St. Martin's University. "Too many people were wounded; I just couldn't even ask for it — I didn't think I was wounded enough to deserve a Purple Heart."
Now, he said, his thoughts are with "all the young people in Iraq and their families. It's a difficult situation."
Larson, retired from his job designing and constructing schools for North Thurston Public Schools, is "a man's man" who doesn't often show emotion, said longtime friend John "Jumper" Bitters, who served in Vietnam with the New Zealand Special Air Service.
"None of us talk about Vietnam very much. ... It was a horrible time in American history," said Bitters, who became a U.S. citizen after the war. "I would say [Larson] was totally surprised and in awe today. It's people like Gary that makes this country what it is."
Though Larson's physical wounds were slight compared with others, he still bears the psychological scars of warfare, often dreaming of the bloodshed he witnessed. Coming home was almost as tough: With so many people protesting against American involvement in Vietnam, he felt as though the sacrifices made by Marines and soldiers weren't acknowledged.
"It was 40 years ago ... but sometimes it's like it was just yesterday," said Sandy Larson, who married Gary two years ago after his first wife passed away. "He still has a lot of pain and bad memories, and I just hope this helps him through it. It's a real shame more of the people [who served] in Vietnam didn't get recognized the way they should have."
Keeping Larson's Purple Heart a secret was extremely hard, she said.
"I've had to lie to my husband, and one day he asked if I had a boyfriend," she said, laughing. "But now, it's all going to make sense to him, the late-night phone calls and the sneaking around."
Sara Jean Green: 206-515-5654 or sgreen@seattletimes.com
Ellie
By Sara Jean Green
Seattle Times staff reporter
NEAR LACEY, Thurston County — Gary Larson was getting ready to fire up the grill at his home overlooking Long Lake when he heard the first notes from a bagpipe coming from next door.
His chest heaved under his white polo shirt as a Marine in dress uniform walked up to him, followed by a color guard and a contingent of local officials and friends who descended on Larson's sun-drenched lawn Monday afternoon to witness a surprise ceremony nearly 40 years in the making.
Larson, a Vietnam vet, was finally getting his Purple Heart.
Tears slid down Larson's face as former Marine Sgt. Dave Newkirk, who lives nearby, pinned the medal to his shirt.
"It's an honor to salute people who've gone before us," said Newkirk, 33, who spent six years in the Marine Corps and raced home from vacation to present Larson with the medal given to service members injured in combat. "I'd do it 100 times over."
Andrew Oczkewicz, who lives next door to Larson and his wife, Sandy, orchestrated the Memorial Day surprise, secretly photocopying Larson's military records and using his connections with Army commanders at Fort Lewis to get Larson his Purple Heart. Oczkewicz contacted Gov. Christine Gregoire, who wrote a personal letter to Larson, calling his medal "an honor long overdue."
"Gary has always said it's not so much about him, but wanting to make sure the mistakes of Vietnam aren't repeated, and the soldiers coming home [from Iraq and Afghanistan] aren't forgotten," said Oczkewicz, 40. "It's a very special moment."
Larson, now 60, was a college student in Portland when he enlisted with the Marines. Then, the 19-year-old corporal stood 5-foot-6 and weighed about 110 pounds.
Because of his small stature, he was picked to work as "a tunnel rat," a dangerous job inspecting tunnels used by the enemy to move troops and supplies out of sight of American forces.
In August 1968, Larson and his unit were on a search mission in a remote part of Vietnam when they were ambushed by the Viet Cong. In the midst of intense fighting, the Marines called for air support: First came the napalm-dropping Cobra helicopters, followed by U.S. jets that doused the area with bombs.
"We were all mixed in with the Viet Cong," Larson recalled Monday. The bombs began falling, "and the guy in front of me didn't make it."
Larson was thrown 100 feet into a rice paddy from a bomb blast and knocked unconscious. When he came to, he ripped a piece of shrapnel from his left hand, patched himself up the best he could and dug in for a firefight that lasted through the night. Larson was later treated by a medic. He says he suffers no lasting effects from the injury.
"We lost over 50,000 troops over there," said Larson, who moved to the Lacey area in the early 1970s to attend St. Martin's University. "Too many people were wounded; I just couldn't even ask for it — I didn't think I was wounded enough to deserve a Purple Heart."
Now, he said, his thoughts are with "all the young people in Iraq and their families. It's a difficult situation."
Larson, retired from his job designing and constructing schools for North Thurston Public Schools, is "a man's man" who doesn't often show emotion, said longtime friend John "Jumper" Bitters, who served in Vietnam with the New Zealand Special Air Service.
"None of us talk about Vietnam very much. ... It was a horrible time in American history," said Bitters, who became a U.S. citizen after the war. "I would say [Larson] was totally surprised and in awe today. It's people like Gary that makes this country what it is."
Though Larson's physical wounds were slight compared with others, he still bears the psychological scars of warfare, often dreaming of the bloodshed he witnessed. Coming home was almost as tough: With so many people protesting against American involvement in Vietnam, he felt as though the sacrifices made by Marines and soldiers weren't acknowledged.
"It was 40 years ago ... but sometimes it's like it was just yesterday," said Sandy Larson, who married Gary two years ago after his first wife passed away. "He still has a lot of pain and bad memories, and I just hope this helps him through it. It's a real shame more of the people [who served] in Vietnam didn't get recognized the way they should have."
Keeping Larson's Purple Heart a secret was extremely hard, she said.
"I've had to lie to my husband, and one day he asked if I had a boyfriend," she said, laughing. "But now, it's all going to make sense to him, the late-night phone calls and the sneaking around."
Sara Jean Green: 206-515-5654 or sgreen@seattletimes.com
Ellie