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A good wingmanWhen I was a plebe (he said, and across the fleet, eyeballs roll), CAPT Dick Stratton spoke to my class about his experience as an aviator, POW and senior officer. One of his anecdotes struck me at the time as peculiar. He was talking about the qualities that go into making a good wingman, and said, “If I go into the clouds and fly into a mountain on the other side, the last thing I want to see as I look to my right is my wingman flying into the same mountain right beside me.” It took years for that story to make any kind of sense – what a senseless waste of two aircraft, two lives. But his story had to do with unblinking determination and personal commitment, a willingness to throw oneself fully into the effort, even in the face of grave danger. It’s about trust and love to the point of self-abnegation. Ed “Too Tall” Freeman was a good wingman, and another hero who has walked into the clearing at the end of the path:
See you at Fidler’s Green, Too Tall. First round’s on me. Update: Garry Owen! 5 comments to A good wingman |
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Halfway down the trail to hell
In a shady meadow green,
Are the souls of all dead troopers camped
Near a good old-time canteen,
And this eternal resting place,
Is known as Fiddler’s Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell,
The Infantry are seen,
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marine,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddler’s Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene,
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he’s emptied his canteen,
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddler’s Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge or fierce melee
You stop the bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddler’s Green.
Wish I’d had a chance to meet him, since I live here in Boise. Might have to make a trip out to the Idaho Veterans Cemetery on Saturday and pay my respects. Nice place to be laid to rest.
They had better look for a VERY large casket because he had what were undoubtedly the biggest pair of balls in the entire First Cavalry.
There are many instances of people receiving the Medal of Honor for throwing themselves onto a grenade to save comrades. That is a sacrifice not to be denigrated, but it is largely instinctive.
Ed Freeman, on the other hand, flew into a hot LZ time after time. An LZ so hot that it was clearly life threatening to even approach. But he knew that his brothers on the ground were depending on him for ammunition, and to evacuate the critically wounded. And, in the face of almost certain death, he returned time after time. That is a level of courage and commitment that rises to heights beyond the grasp of most mere mortals.
We have, indeed, lost a great warrior.
NBC news did a nice bit on him tonight. Too bad no one seems to do that for the fine warriors who have been awarded the MOH in Afghanistan or Iraq.
And I’ll second the thought I saw on another blog, there’s guys out there today, alive, who deserve it but won’t get it. Why is it seemingly only given posthumously now?
Am now cueing up “Cavalry of the Clouds” by Alford. One of my favorites. Played it in High School.