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Dear Gary,
This is for you:
“Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings: Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds—and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air,
Up, the long delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew,
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.’’
your two sons, Sean and Gregory, are your name
You, our Navy jet fighter pilot, made the ultimate sacrifice on 3 April 1973, giving the last measure of your devotion to your country. You often told your father and me of how when up there in the wild blue yonder, you talked a lot with God and many times reached out your hand and touched His face.
Fifteen years have passed since your death. In your A-7 Corsair you were catapulted off the USS Coral Sea (CVA-43) over the South China Sea. Within seconds, your plane exploded and your body vanished in the black waters.
We miss you so very much. No words could ever say how much. And it seems to us as though it was just yesterday—not 15 years ago—that we received the news of your death from the Navy. To us you left beautiful and treasured memories of your short span of life. Those memories are God's and your gift to us and ours to recall forever. The most priceless gifts you left
your heritage for them to carry on and pass on to the sons and daughters. You lived a fuller life in your - years than many of us could live in a hundred. '^oU uat went home to your Heavenly Father doing exactly vv you loved best after your wife and two sons and us. ^ your parents. It was no secret to any of us. Flying your first love above all else, except for those deares to you. You experienced exhilaration and happiness ■ 1 there that the rest of us can only guess at and worn1- about. u.
When the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in ington, D. C., was finished and dedicated in 1982. just presumed your name would be there as one of1 more than 58,000 men and women who had given lives for their country. We learned through the U. • Naval Academy Alumni Association that your name ^ would not be inscribed on the Wall. Only the names
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Proceedings / JlllK
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>ho:
se who died in action in a combat area would ap- !ear- The South China Sea was not considered a com
bat
krii
area- This was a difficult pill to swallow. But we
ficew 'n our hearts you had made the supreme sacri- ®> and so we accepted this disappointment graciously without going through the official channels we niz j ^ave trave*e<T attempting to have you recog-
^Then, Gary, on 7 November 1985 a letter from the ^ePartment of the Navy appeared in our postbox. My s-ltrt was pounding! It had been more than 12 years we had heard from the Navy. I opened the letter eh> trerr|hhng hands and with tears rolling down my -p^eehs, not having the slightest idea what to expect. the2 *Ctter reac*: ' The criteria for inclusion of names on rC ^'etnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C., was Q., Cn% reviewed to determine if the names of any ,er casualties which occurred adjacent to the Vietnam orT ^°ne sh°uld be included. After reviewing the rec- c- s °f your son, Gary, we have determined that the cc'Ustances of his death warrant including his name tae Memorial.”
y ae letter altered our lives completely. After calling jusF *at^er at work and reading the message to him, I wanted to be quiet and feel the new warmth and ant lt'Ut*e my en*ire being that our son, Licuten-
the
nt pary Bede Simkins, U. S. Navy, was to receive rev' °n°r an^ recognition he so justly deserved. After 0ffjle.wing Navy and Air Force records at the Pentagon, cenCla*S Were the names of 96 men killed adja-
n . to the war zone and 14 men who died in the 1 eh States of wounds received in Vietnam. The new h les Would be inscribed on the wall on Memorial ^1986.
antji6 ^ n0t *iear anything more about the memorial tele 10
Vision
March 1986. On that day Seattle’s Channel 7
Aii_
after
news staff came to our home here in Port
pies to interview us. The cameraman took picture
Port ^lcture °f our photographs of you, Gary. The reuser gave us no inkling of what he would be asking vie S° °Ur answers were spontaneous. Gary, when we ri , C(i ourselves later that evening on TV, you were pt here with us.
tCrronj that day on, our phone rang constantly and let- Ch'a*ved from Washington, D. C., Seattle., Olympia, hj pUgo—all about Gary. We lived on an emotional We *r°ni that day forward, and nearly two years later are still on that high and it isn't a bad feeling at all
‘ T.at a>T ^ .
e dedication in Washington, D. C., was set tor 26 horf Your father was asked to be on the dedica- sCf JPr°gram to read 18 of the new names just inkin's ^fth name on the list was Gary B. Sim-
be(|a 15 years since your death, Gary, there have
so
many unhappy finalities. Now we were about
unhappy ones we have suffered. The Memorial Wall itself would take your breath away even if you had no name of your own on it. The Wall is black granite, peaceful and reflective, almost like a mirror. It stands between the Lincoln and Washington monuments.
(What better location could it possibly have?) It is built in an angle and is 494 feet long. Gary B. Simkins’s name appears exactly in the center of the memorial just to the left of the angle, about two feet from the ground and exactly 123 names from the top of the Wall.
On 26 May, reporters from Seattle’s Channel 5 television station came to our Washington, D. C., hotel, interviewed us, and drove us to the memorial. Many television cameras and interviewers were there. We were asked many questions by many reporters who just seemed to appear from nowhere with TV cameras backing them up.
Suddenly, all was quiet and the program of the dedication of the 110 new names began. Gary, as your father walked to the podium to read his list of 18 names—smartly dressed in a white sports coat, navy slacks, white shoes, light blue shirt, proudly wearing a U. S. Naval Academy necktie with Navy wings of gold—the announcer said ever so distinctly, “Mr. Simkins is walking to the podium as though he is about to welcome his son home.” Then your father started readme. As he came to the fifth name, he turned his head to the left and looked at me with eyes of love and said. “Our dearly beloved son”—then turned to the main microphone and clearly read, “Gary Bede Simkins,” and went right on with the remaining names without once faltering.
More than a thousand VIPs, family members, and friends participated in the dedication. Tears were shed unashamedly. Yellow ribbons identified 450 of us as family to one of the 110 men being honored. We were all sharing the same bond. Our loved one had given his life for his country and had done it willingly.
The program read: “There is no more sacred part of a person than his or her name. The heart of the memorial is names.” Oh, how very true!
President Reagan’s message to us was, “Those who fought in Vietnam are part of us, part of our history. They reflected the best in us. No number of wreaths, no amount of music and memorializing will ever do them justice. They died uncomplaining. The tears staining their mud-caked faces were not for self-pity, but for the sorrow they knew the news of their death would cause their families and friends.”
Gary, to rub our hands over your name on that beautiful memorial where it so rightfully belongs gives us a feeling of warmth and understanding. It creates a better understanding with everyone with whom we have contact. It means more than words can say. With your name on it, that memorial is our headstone for you.
^Perienee yet another, but this one was different. It a magnificent finality, just the reverse of the many
Mrs. Simkins and her husband Glenn had two sons and a son-in-law serving in Vietnam at the same time.
te<1|ngs / June
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