...Gary Whipple sat next to me in study hall. He was a senior, I was a junior. He had almond eyes and curly dark hair, and wore crew neck sweaters and corduroy pants, with penny loafers. He had a girlfriend; it wasn't me. That was okay. I liked him, and I liked looking at him. He was mostly polite, a little smart-alecky, funny, and cute.

Gary graduated, joined the Army; I studied and danced and daydreamed my way through senior year, graduated, went off to school, got a job in Boston.

In 1968, just before Christmas, my mother mailed me the clipping from the paper. PFC Gary Norman Whipple, killed in Vietnam 04Dec1968. He had just turned 20.

I still remember how it felt, standing there staring at the clipping, seeing that uniform, those same almond eyes. My life changed forever in that moment. Guess you'd say I grew up.

I think about Gary every year on Memorial Day. Someday I'd like to run my fingertips across his name on the Wall, try to wrap my mind around the idea of that teenage boy in Mr. Jobin's study hall, halfway around the world, dying in service of his country.

He would have been 62 this fall, maybe thinking about retiring. I wonder if his hair would still have been curly.

Thank you, Gary. Thank you, all who gave your lives, all who put them on the line today. I'll never forget.

Thank you for sharing your memory, B2Y. It was beautiful.

God bless Gary Whipple and all the others who have served our country, esp. those who didn't return home alive.

Today at the cemetery we spoke to a local man who served in Viet Nam as a Marine. He just recently received 2 bronze stars for valor--45 years after the fact. He has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and bad ears b/c of mortar. He caught Malaria while there and, upon release, had to sign a statement denying that he ever had Malaria. He got emotional when he remembered returning home and being spat upon. Now he has Parkinson's and moves slowly with the help of walking aids.

So many sacrifices through the decades so we could have safe and easy lives.

God Bless America and those who have served her.

I have a memorial to add. When I was just a baby, my Godfather (I'm Catholic), Jerry Hempleman, the brother of a dear friend of my Mother, died for his Country, in the battle in Guadel Canal(sp), 194-.

The last time I saw him was at my Baptism. I think of him every time I raise the flag.

Thank you, Blessings2You, for starting this thread . . . you can find Gary on the virtual wall here: http://www.virtualwall.org/dw/WhippleGE01a.htm

I finally got to touch my brother's name on The Wall in D.C. in 2005 . . .

Terry, honorman of his Marine platoon at his graduation from boot camp, was 6'7" tall, handsome, kind and friendly, loved by the girls (seven of them at his funeral, all I believe thought they were the one he would come home to), and very athletic. He could dunk the basketball in his combat boots in the mucky mud of his camp in the jungle in Vietnam. In spite of his height being in excess of standard, he wanted to be and was a tank driver, somehow telescoping his entire 79" into the driver's seat of his tank. Only the top gunner got off when the tank hit a land mine . . . and Terry died instantly, shortly after turning 20 . . .

Different Gary (the one I knew was Gary Norman Whipple) from NH...but thank you for the link to the virtual wall. I found Gary.

Sorry. . .but glad you found him.



I am really missing my brother here lately . . .