In Memoriam

In Memoriam

Clyde J. McGee

September 19, 1930 (Beach, MS)— May 11, 2008 (Dallas, TX)

BMC, USN

Retired from the U.S. Navy after thirty years of service. Laid to rest on Wednesday, May 14, 2008 at 10:00 A.M. at Restland Memorial Park in Dallas.

My beloved uncle and inspiration.

Clyde McGee was a tall, lanky, hairy-armed Scot — a real man's man — but over the many years I knew him, he was always kindhearted, soft-spoken, and witty. His most memorable trait was his sense of humor. As kids, his sons and I spent hours listening to his hilariously ribald aphorisms, jokes, and sea stories, and his many unprintable-but-true tales of his adventures in both the brown- and blue-water Cold War Navy often left us with aching sides and eyes filled with tears of laughter. He was, as we say in Texas, a Hoot.

But my uncle was no mere storyteller. He was among the last examples of the Real Navy — a boatswain's mate, a master of decorative ropework, and a true marlinspike seaman. Our modern Navy is full of fine men and women, but the ascendence of shipboard automation has made many of the things my uncle did obsolete. They don't make sailors like Clyde J. McGee any more.

My uncle was a Mensch. He was a tough customer who knew how to suffer without whining about it. He grew up in the worst of circumstances — as part of a family of sharecroppers in a Depression-era Mississippi cotton patch — but did not allow his hard upbringing to turn him bitter. (He did hate cotton until his dying day.) Later in life, he lost a lung due to service-related injuries, but did not use that injury as an excuse for laziness; instead, he continued to work long hours as an armed security officer until his second retirement. My uncle was unfailingly kind and fair to everyone, but he did not like bullies, goldbrickers, or cheats. He expected everyone to pull his own weight, as he unfailingly did.

He was also not the biggest fan of certain famous civil rights leaders of the 1960s, although his distaste for them was on the grounds of their politics, not their race. He married a Japanese girl when it was not at all the thing to do, after all. Together with her, he raised three fine American sons — plus many of us nieces and nephews.

He was a loving man: he loved his God, his family, and the USS MIDWAY until the day he died. You can still see his fancy knotwork on display as you cross the quarterdeck of that famous ship in San Diego.

He inspired me to join the Navy, and to many other things as well. I owe him a great deal.

I'll always miss him. May his name never be forgotten.

***

In Memoriam

Franklin Patric Willeford

HN3 USN

NAVY CROSS

March 17, 1943 (Lawton OK) — December 14, 1968 (Quang Nam, Republic of Vietnam)

Vietnam Memorial

Panel 36W, Row 021

Citation

The President of the United States takes pride in presenting the Navy Cross (Posthumously) to Franklin Patric Willeford (3537852), Hospitalman, U.S. Navy, for extraordinary heroism on 14 December 1968 while serving as a Platoon Corpsman in Company C, First Battalion, Fifth Marines, FIRST Marine Division (Reinforced), Fleet Marine Force, in Quang Nam Province, Republic of Vietnam. As Hospitalman Willeford's platoon was participating in a company-sized sweep through an area, the lead element came under intensive automatic-weapons fire which wounded and trapped one Marine in very close proximity to one of the enemy bunkers. Seeing his comrade fall and subsequently receive another hit from a grenade, Hospitalman Willeford unhesitatingly left his position of relative security and moved forward to the side of the mortally-wounded Marine. Hidden from the enemy positions by the tall grass in the area, he found the Marine bleeding severely and in no condition to be moved. Hospitalman Willeford raised himself up and into the grazing zone of hostile fire in order to administer a heart massage and mouth- to-mouth resuscitation, continuing his desperate attempts to save the Marine until all hope of life had expired. Only then did he begin the slow return through the fire-swept zone to the trench line, bringing with him the body of his comrade. As his platoon again started through the area, the enemy opened up with intensive small-arms and automatic-weapons fire, wounding and trapping the three lead Marines. When two Marines started to move out of the trench line to retrieve the casualties, one was mortally wounded and the other critically wounded. Disregarding the intense danger, Hospitalman Willeford again moved forward to aid his fellowman. Finding the first Marine mortally wounded, and realizing the impossibility of trying to move him back to a secure area, Hospitalman Willeford stayed with the Marine, rendering what aid and comfort he could, until the Marine succumbed to his injuries. After he had informed the remainder of the platoon that the Marine had died, he proceeded deeper into the fire zone toward the second Marine, and drew fire from an enemy bunker a short distance from the wounded man. With full knowledge that the enemy was now concentrating their fire upon him, Hospitalman Willeford forged his way through the tall grass to the wounded Marines' side and began administering aid. While treating the fallen Marine, Hospitalman Willeford was also struck and mortally wounded. His courageous actions were an inspiration to all who observed him and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

Authority: Navy Department Board of Decorations and Medals

My best friend's dad: a Christian, a pacifist, a combat medic, and a hero. He gave his life for the values he held dear. May his deeds of valor never be forgotten, and may Light eternal shine upon him.