I've gathered what thoughts I can about the 5/7 reunion the last week of July, in Kentucky. Hopefully they will make sense when I write them out.
First, I would like to tell you about a man named Hank Thomas. Tall, skinny, bearded, and he dresses like he just walked out of the woods, which he probably did. He runs a Christmas Tree farm in Minnesota. And he has a heart as large and as pure and unpretentious as anyone I ever met.
He sat with me one day and talked for awhile about what he saw when my brother's chopper crashed, and he cried as he told me. He cried a lot, about those who were lost. Then he told me about what happened to him a few days later. He and a man named Willie were left behind, because the choppers were under too much fire to get them out of the A Shau. One of those guns that shoots a lot of bullets off all at once (I forgot what kind) went off, and Willie caught them all up his body and in his head. He was still alive. Hank dug a hole, and laid on top of him, trying to stop the bleeding. He waited there, but no one came back for them. Hank carried Willie out that night, and he saved his life. He talked to me like this was not a big deal. (I still have tears in my eyes thinking about it.)
On Friday night there was a dinner. During the speeches, Hank was called up, and he was awarded his Silver Star, which was forgotten many years ago. I cried then, it still is hard to think of unemotionally. This one man, Hank, brought me so much peace that I never knew after 1968. To know Michael was with him, and others, and is a part of them still.
Another event that changed me happened at the same dinner. The new President of the 5/7 Cavalry Association was giving a speech. He stoped, and asked everyone to turn to the veterans around them and welcome them home. There were over 400 people there. I don't think anyone wasn't moved by this. While I was hugging these men, I felt like my entire heart was flowing out to them. This was something I had needed desperately to do, but didn't even know it. At that moment, instead of depleting my whole heart, I became a part of them.
Welcome Home....Gary Owen
First, I would like to tell you about a man named Hank Thomas. Tall, skinny, bearded, and he dresses like he just walked out of the woods, which he probably did. He runs a Christmas Tree farm in Minnesota. And he has a heart as large and as pure and unpretentious as anyone I ever met.
He sat with me one day and talked for awhile about what he saw when my brother's chopper crashed, and he cried as he told me. He cried a lot, about those who were lost. Then he told me about what happened to him a few days later. He and a man named Willie were left behind, because the choppers were under too much fire to get them out of the A Shau. One of those guns that shoots a lot of bullets off all at once (I forgot what kind) went off, and Willie caught them all up his body and in his head. He was still alive. Hank dug a hole, and laid on top of him, trying to stop the bleeding. He waited there, but no one came back for them. Hank carried Willie out that night, and he saved his life. He talked to me like this was not a big deal. (I still have tears in my eyes thinking about it.)
On Friday night there was a dinner. During the speeches, Hank was called up, and he was awarded his Silver Star, which was forgotten many years ago. I cried then, it still is hard to think of unemotionally. This one man, Hank, brought me so much peace that I never knew after 1968. To know Michael was with him, and others, and is a part of them still.
Another event that changed me happened at the same dinner. The new President of the 5/7 Cavalry Association was giving a speech. He stoped, and asked everyone to turn to the veterans around them and welcome them home. There were over 400 people there. I don't think anyone wasn't moved by this. While I was hugging these men, I felt like my entire heart was flowing out to them. This was something I had needed desperately to do, but didn't even know it. At that moment, instead of depleting my whole heart, I became a part of them.
Welcome Home....Gary Owen