thedrifter
04-19-09, 08:33 AM
April 19, 2009
WNC Marine to be honored in D.C. ceremony
Barbara Blake
Otis H. Glenn Jr. was a tough guy, a U.S. Marine who would earn a Purple Heart and a presidential citation for bravery after being shot in the chest and left for dead in a rice paddy in Vietnam.
A tall specimen dubbed “Big O” by his fellow Marines and later his friends and family, he was a man who read everything about World War II that he could get his hands on, loved driving his long-haul rig and soothed his soul creating beautiful treasures from wood.
But he was also a man who left tender letters of love on his wife's pillow or nightstand on just an ordinary day.
“You're good to me and for me — how could I not help but love such a beautiful person,” one of those letters reads. “I'll try and complement you in every way I possibly can so that I may hold and cherish you as long as I can, forever and ever. With all the love in me, Big O.”
Glenn cherished his wife, Judith, for 27 1/2 years, until the moment he died on Christmas Day 2007 of lung cancer, a disease linked to the Agent Orange he was exposed to in 1967-68 in Southeast Asia. That cancer followed side effects from floating shrapnel, skin cancer and kidney cancer, also linked to the toxic herbicide that killed or maimed thousands of other American troops during and after the war in Vietnam, in addition to the harm it did to the Vietnamese.
Before her husband died, Judith Glenn made him a promise: She would honor him for the rest of her life. Today she is on her way to Washington, D.C., to keep that promise.
At 10 a.m. Monday, Judith Glenn and her remaining family members will stand in front of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, known as “The Wall,” and read her husband's name during the annual “In Memory” ceremony held by the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund.
A certificate bearing Otis Glenn's name, and the personal memorabilia Judith provides, will be placed at the memorial, to be collected later by the National Park Service and stored in its permanent archive. His name also will be added to the “In Memory” honor roll book to serve as a lasting reminder of his service and sacrifice.
But although he suffered for 40 years from the injuries that earned him military honors, and may have eventually died as a result, Glenn's name is not one of the 58,195 engraved on The Wall.
The annual “In Memory” ceremony was created to honor those who died as a result of the Vietnam War but whose deaths do not fit the Department of Defense criteria for inclusion on The Wall.
Judith Glenn, a retired schoolteacher who now lives in Morganton, worked through reams of official paperwork to ensure her husband would be one of just 123 soldiers — and the only one from North Carolina — to be recognized at this year's ceremony.
The hours of paperwork were a labor of love for Judith Glenn.
“It was complicated and sometimes frustrating, but I promised him that I would honor him for the rest of my life,” Glenn said. “When your heart is in it, it's not hard at all.”
She is anxious about seeing up close the haunting, linear tribute that is The Wall, the somber reminder of the U.S. soldiers who lost their lives in Southeast Asia some 40 years ago. “Big O” visited the memorial numerous times, always with sheets of paper to take rubbings from the engraved names of his fallen comrades from Bravo Co., 1st Battalion, 9th Marines, 3rd Division.
Judith Glenn will be there on Monday to acknowledge not only those who died in the war, but also all the others, including her husband, who came home still alive but on borrowed time.
“The reality hasn't set in yet,” she said. “When I see that cold, hard marble, that's going to be very difficult. But I have to think — it's full of life, it's actually breathing life, because it has the names of the brave Vietnam veterans who made the ultimate sacrifice. And I'm so proud that we will be able to honor my husband, that he will get the honor and respect he deserves,” she said. “And that's long overdue for all Vietnam veterans.”
“Big O” Glenn served in Khe Sanh and Con Thien, on the front line at the demilitarized zone so close to the enemy the Marines could look into North Vietnam.
“He said, ‘We could hear (the Viet Cong), and we could see things moving, but we could never actually see them,'” Glenn recalled. “He said, ‘We were on their territory, and they knew how to fight in the jungles and rice paddies.' He said that if you ever saw them, it was too late, because it meant that they had shot you.”
They did shoot Glenn, in the chest, in August 1968. He was rescued, taken to a medical ship and eventually sent home. But he was never the same.
“He was so outgoing and personable and very friendly as a man, but he was very, very private as a Marine,” Judith Glenn said. “He never talked about it, never shared anything about it until years after we were married. He had (post traumatic stress disorder), and that was devastating to him — the nightmares and flashbacks never stopped. And it's still taking its toll on all the other veterans who were there.”
After he married Judith — “and my family,” she laughed — “We breathed new life into him for 27 1/2 years.”
The couple loved camping together, and both relished the summers when Judith was out of school and they could travel the country together in his rig, covering 40 states in five years. He was like a second son to Judith's mother, and a brother — “not a brother-in-law” — to her twin sisters and brother.
“He liked to say, ‘A man is like a fine piece of wood — you just have to bring out his character,'” Glenn said. “Like he always said about … bringing out the best in a man, he tried to bring out the best in everybody. Everybody he met, he tried to find the good in them, and he did. He brought out the best in us.”
The woman “Big O.” referred to as “Kid” was by his side during the cancer treatments, the kidney dialysis, the nightmares and flashbacks, as well as the happy times camping under the stars or cruising down America's highways. And she is still with him today, en route to a ceremony that will mix an emotional cocktail of pride, grief, longing and, mostly, love.
“He never wanted a brass band. He never wanted a parade. He never wanted the spotlight on him,” Judith Glenn said. “If he were here, he'd say, ‘You're doing way too much.' And I'd say, ‘No, I'm not doing half enough.' But he would say, ‘You promised me that you would honor me, so I will accept this, Kid, because you're keeping your promise.'”
Kid smiled as she wiped tears from her eyes.
“I'm doing this for him. I'm keeping my promise.”
Additional Facts
LEARN MORE
For more about the “In Memory” program of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund, visit vvmf.org.
Ellie
WNC Marine to be honored in D.C. ceremony
Barbara Blake
Otis H. Glenn Jr. was a tough guy, a U.S. Marine who would earn a Purple Heart and a presidential citation for bravery after being shot in the chest and left for dead in a rice paddy in Vietnam.
A tall specimen dubbed “Big O” by his fellow Marines and later his friends and family, he was a man who read everything about World War II that he could get his hands on, loved driving his long-haul rig and soothed his soul creating beautiful treasures from wood.
But he was also a man who left tender letters of love on his wife's pillow or nightstand on just an ordinary day.
“You're good to me and for me — how could I not help but love such a beautiful person,” one of those letters reads. “I'll try and complement you in every way I possibly can so that I may hold and cherish you as long as I can, forever and ever. With all the love in me, Big O.”
Glenn cherished his wife, Judith, for 27 1/2 years, until the moment he died on Christmas Day 2007 of lung cancer, a disease linked to the Agent Orange he was exposed to in 1967-68 in Southeast Asia. That cancer followed side effects from floating shrapnel, skin cancer and kidney cancer, also linked to the toxic herbicide that killed or maimed thousands of other American troops during and after the war in Vietnam, in addition to the harm it did to the Vietnamese.
Before her husband died, Judith Glenn made him a promise: She would honor him for the rest of her life. Today she is on her way to Washington, D.C., to keep that promise.
At 10 a.m. Monday, Judith Glenn and her remaining family members will stand in front of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, known as “The Wall,” and read her husband's name during the annual “In Memory” ceremony held by the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund.
A certificate bearing Otis Glenn's name, and the personal memorabilia Judith provides, will be placed at the memorial, to be collected later by the National Park Service and stored in its permanent archive. His name also will be added to the “In Memory” honor roll book to serve as a lasting reminder of his service and sacrifice.
But although he suffered for 40 years from the injuries that earned him military honors, and may have eventually died as a result, Glenn's name is not one of the 58,195 engraved on The Wall.
The annual “In Memory” ceremony was created to honor those who died as a result of the Vietnam War but whose deaths do not fit the Department of Defense criteria for inclusion on The Wall.
Judith Glenn, a retired schoolteacher who now lives in Morganton, worked through reams of official paperwork to ensure her husband would be one of just 123 soldiers — and the only one from North Carolina — to be recognized at this year's ceremony.
The hours of paperwork were a labor of love for Judith Glenn.
“It was complicated and sometimes frustrating, but I promised him that I would honor him for the rest of my life,” Glenn said. “When your heart is in it, it's not hard at all.”
She is anxious about seeing up close the haunting, linear tribute that is The Wall, the somber reminder of the U.S. soldiers who lost their lives in Southeast Asia some 40 years ago. “Big O” visited the memorial numerous times, always with sheets of paper to take rubbings from the engraved names of his fallen comrades from Bravo Co., 1st Battalion, 9th Marines, 3rd Division.
Judith Glenn will be there on Monday to acknowledge not only those who died in the war, but also all the others, including her husband, who came home still alive but on borrowed time.
“The reality hasn't set in yet,” she said. “When I see that cold, hard marble, that's going to be very difficult. But I have to think — it's full of life, it's actually breathing life, because it has the names of the brave Vietnam veterans who made the ultimate sacrifice. And I'm so proud that we will be able to honor my husband, that he will get the honor and respect he deserves,” she said. “And that's long overdue for all Vietnam veterans.”
“Big O” Glenn served in Khe Sanh and Con Thien, on the front line at the demilitarized zone so close to the enemy the Marines could look into North Vietnam.
“He said, ‘We could hear (the Viet Cong), and we could see things moving, but we could never actually see them,'” Glenn recalled. “He said, ‘We were on their territory, and they knew how to fight in the jungles and rice paddies.' He said that if you ever saw them, it was too late, because it meant that they had shot you.”
They did shoot Glenn, in the chest, in August 1968. He was rescued, taken to a medical ship and eventually sent home. But he was never the same.
“He was so outgoing and personable and very friendly as a man, but he was very, very private as a Marine,” Judith Glenn said. “He never talked about it, never shared anything about it until years after we were married. He had (post traumatic stress disorder), and that was devastating to him — the nightmares and flashbacks never stopped. And it's still taking its toll on all the other veterans who were there.”
After he married Judith — “and my family,” she laughed — “We breathed new life into him for 27 1/2 years.”
The couple loved camping together, and both relished the summers when Judith was out of school and they could travel the country together in his rig, covering 40 states in five years. He was like a second son to Judith's mother, and a brother — “not a brother-in-law” — to her twin sisters and brother.
“He liked to say, ‘A man is like a fine piece of wood — you just have to bring out his character,'” Glenn said. “Like he always said about … bringing out the best in a man, he tried to bring out the best in everybody. Everybody he met, he tried to find the good in them, and he did. He brought out the best in us.”
The woman “Big O.” referred to as “Kid” was by his side during the cancer treatments, the kidney dialysis, the nightmares and flashbacks, as well as the happy times camping under the stars or cruising down America's highways. And she is still with him today, en route to a ceremony that will mix an emotional cocktail of pride, grief, longing and, mostly, love.
“He never wanted a brass band. He never wanted a parade. He never wanted the spotlight on him,” Judith Glenn said. “If he were here, he'd say, ‘You're doing way too much.' And I'd say, ‘No, I'm not doing half enough.' But he would say, ‘You promised me that you would honor me, so I will accept this, Kid, because you're keeping your promise.'”
Kid smiled as she wiped tears from her eyes.
“I'm doing this for him. I'm keeping my promise.”
Additional Facts
LEARN MORE
For more about the “In Memory” program of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund, visit vvmf.org.
Ellie