Don Toohey, a fellow 2/12th vet who served in both the 4 Deuce & Recon platoons in the late stages of the Vietnam war, sent me a eulogy that he’d written for a buddy who died last year and I was so taken with it that I thought, with his and the widow’s permission, you might like to read it, so here ‘tis. I’m confident the feelings expressed by Don could be written about vets we all knew. A Brother never forgets...
For our Brother, Robert T. Johnson, “Lurch”
I am Don Toohey and I’m from Boston Massachusetts and I had the distinct privilege and honor to have served with Tris in Recon 2nd Battalion, 12th Infantry 25th Infantry Division in Vietnam.
In the Military there is a saying that has been passed down among the generations that a son never forgets. Well today, there is a saying among us old Vietnam Vets that a Brother never forgets.
A Brother never forgets: Robert T. Johnson, known to us GRUNTS as Lurch. Lurch was given the Lurch name as an endearing term because of his stature and his uncanny resemblance to Lurch! Lurch loved being called a GRUNT, because it was the name we gave ourselves as brothers. Being a GRUNT meant that you were the lowest rung on the totem pole to all except us GRUNTS. To us it meant what life was about in the Nam. Sharing the same hardships, enduring the struggles and being willing to give everything for your loved ones, even your life and Lurch did that throughout his life. And a Brother never forgets.
A Brother never forgets: You look over there at Lurch’s dress green uniform and there are a lot of medals for heroism including the Silver Star that he got for saving everyone’s life. But to some extent every one of us did that for each other every day, and the most meaningful decoration on that uniform is the CIB, the Combat Infantryman’s Badge, because that represented the brotherhood and the hardships that we endured together. That is the decoration and award that we grunts are most proud of. And that’s why it is positioned above all other decorations.
A Brother never forgets: The first time I met Lurch was on my birthday June 3rd, 1970. What a GIFT! It was at some remote Firebase (Katum) along the Cambodian border. The first sergeant had lined up all the new incoming guys from the states and said he needed some volunteers. Well of course being good soldiers no one volunteered so he said okay you two tall goofy looking guys in the back, you are now part of RECON 2nd Battalion 12th Infantry, 25th Infantry Division. So I started looking around for the two tall goofy looking guys and Lurch turned to me and gave me one of those stares that only Lurch could give you that said, “Boy, they are talking about us stupid”. Then as we were walking to the Recon area someone called to us and said “Hey you, Lurch, go over there”. And that was how he got his nickname.
A Brother never forgets: During our first hour with our new platoon we had to clean weapons Well, I’m from the inner city and even though I had been through training I still wasn’t familiar with the weapons and as I started to clean my gun I accidentally pulled the trigger and a round went off. Well, we were in the middle of this Fire Support Base and of course everyone started yelling and screaming at me for being a jerk. But not Lurch, he just looked over at me with one of his looks that only Lurch had and said, “Boy you need to unload that weapon before you start cleaning it.”
A Brother never forgets: The first night we were together walking down to the bunker line for guard duty and I heard a loud explosion go off and I immediately fell to the ground. And there was Lurch standing there looking down and me saying “Boy, that’s only a flare, get up,” saying it the way only Lurch could say it.
A Brother never forgets: The endless conversations we all had about the World (back home) and Lurch talking about this wonderful girl named Carol back in Texas and when he showed us her picture well we never believed him that is until we all finally got to meet Carol and she is every bit as wonderful as Tris said she was and we all love you Carol.
A Brother never forgets: Our first chopper ride into the field and getting dropped off in the wrong spot under fire. A hot LZ our first one of course had to be hot, but I didn’t realize it until Lurch said to us, in the way that only Lurch could say, “Boys we are under fire, run!”
A Brother never forgets: The first night in the field and how sick Lurch was with dysentery. So sick that he had gotten sick all over himself and really didn’t smell too good. So the old timers there made him dig his foxhole about 30 meters away from all of us so we wouldn’t have to smell him. Well there he was in typical Lurch fashion, sick as a dog, running a 104 degree temperature, stuff coming out at both ends and didn’t he go off and build the biggest and best fortified foxhole that anyone had ever built.
A Brother never forgets: How different we were, me a fast talking Irish Catholic kid from the inner city who didn’t know anything about the woods. And there was Lurch the slow talking Texan with that beautiful southern drawl who was an expert about everything in the woods and all the different types of weapons we carried. Well, given those differences it was only natural that we argued about everything, and didn’t agree on just about anything, especially given Lurch’s intolerance for anything less than perfection. But as I got to know Lurch I realized that was his method to get to know you and that was the way I got to love this giant of a man. And all that arguing didn’t matter because we were family and BROTHERS IN ARMS.
A Brother never forgets: Because in war Grunts like Lurch, Frenchy, George and I were willing to sacrifice our lives for each other, just like our brothers in Iraq today. We are confused about Iraq and don’t know whether it’s right or wrong, but we support our brothers there. When our 25th Infantry Division went over there and we saw what good soldiers they were I sent Lurch an email and asked him if we were good soldiers in the Nam. Well in typical Lurch fashion he sent me back a note and said, “well let’s see, we fought one of the most disciplined army’s in the world, on there home turf and held them to a draw, what do you think?”
A Brother never forgets: The love of God, Country and Family that Lurch and all of us shared, even in the most difficult of times. Carol, Mrs. Johnson we love you, Frenchy, George and all of us old grunts and we have always loved you because you have always been family since we shared that time together in the NAM 35 years ago and that will never change.
I WILL NEVER FORGET: Robert T. Johnson AKA LURCH! And I have passed onto my son the story of Lurch. I had him read the obit in the Washington Post and asked him a favor to his Dad to tell the story of Lurch and His brothers on what we did over there and that we were good soldiers so the memory of Lurch is passed on to future generations, BECAUSE BROTHERS NEVER FORGET!!! WE LOVE YOU.
“FROM THIS DAY TO THE ENDING OF THE WORLD, BUT WE IN IT SHALL BE REMEMBERED, WE FEW, WE HAPPY FEW, WE BAND OF BROTHERS”.
Love,
Don Toohey 3/15/06
Don posted this website on Benson’s bulletin board and a couple different places and we thought it bears repeating here if you haven’t seen this film clip:
http://www.iwo.com/heroes.htm
Good News:We’ve successfully made contact with our former HHC CO, Robert E. Kavanaugh! Several have requested his mailing address so they can write him. He and his wife, Mildred, live near Ft Lewis and have indicated they would welcome hearing from his former charges, so just let us know and we’ll get you the necessary information.
Listen or your tongue will keep you deaf.
Native American Proverb
We still need your help in filling in the pages of your Newsletter. If you want to see it continued, please give some thought and pass along your ideas, material, items of interest, anything that you think would be of interest as several vets have done—thank you!
The idea of the Newsletter is, hopefully, to supplement Our 4 Deuce website, the Bulletin Board and personal contact between and among platoon members. Some information is better disseminated in this format, so as we’ve said before, please don’t be bashful.
If I Could Live My Life Again
If I could live my life again, I'd laugh at my misfortunes more and other people's predicaments less. Spend more time counting my blessings, less time scrutinizing my blemishes. I'd spend more time playing with my children and grandchildren, less time watching professional athletes perform. More time enjoying what I have, less time thinking about the things I don't have.
If I could live my life again, I'd walk in the rain more without an umbrella and listen less to weather reports. I'd spend much more time outdoors in small towns and much less time in tall buildings and big cities. I'd eat more of everything healthy and delicious, less of everything each meal, saving enough on the bill to feed a starving child.
If I could live my life again, I'd get more beach sand between my toes and less friction between myself and others. I'd take more long baths and fewer showers (I can't explain why I've always been in such a hurry to spend my time). I'd spend more time with old people and animals, less time with strangers at clubs and parties.
I'd act the age of my children and grandchildren more and act my own age less. I'd visit libraries, bookstores, and computer networks more and malls and movie theatres less. I'd play the piano more and play fewer mindless games like solitaire. I'd give my spouse and children more tender touches and much less advice.
If I could live my life again, I'd spend more time fully involved in the present moment, less time remembering and anticipating. I'd be more aware of my core values and life mission, and less concerned with the reasons why I might not measure up.
I'd smile more, frown less. I'd express my feelings more, try less to impress my friends and neighbors. I'd forgive and ask forgiveness more, and curse my adversaries less - but most of all I'd be more spontaneous and active, less hesitant and subdued. When a great idea or spur-of-the-moment adventure popped up - an Easter egg hunt, an open house at school, a game of hide-and-seek, an opportunity to solve a problem at work or to satisfy a disgruntled customer, a hay ride, a chance to build a snowman or paint over graffiti, an invitation to watch a lunar eclipse or a shuttle launch. I'd be less likely to stay in my chair objecting, "It's not in our plan" and more inclined to jump up and say, "Yes, let's".
Source: Brother Jeremiah's free-verse style from "I'd Pick more Daisies."
Be thankful we’re not getting all the government we’re paying for.
Will Rogers
Here’s a little something concerning Sacramento 2007 to think about:
MEN WHO HAVE BEEN TO WAR
I now know why men who have been to war yearn to reunite. Not to tell stories or look at old pictures. Not to laugh or weep. Comrades gather because they long to be with the men who once acted at their best; men who suffered and sacrificed together, who were stripped of their humanity. I did not pick these men. They were delivered by fate and the military. But I know them in a way I know no other men.
I have never given anyone such trust. They were willing to guard something more precious than my life. They would have carried my reputation, the memory of me. It was part of the bargain we all made, the reason we were so willing to die for one another. As long as I have memory, I will think of them all, every day. I am sure that when I leave this world, my last thought will be of my family and my comrades... Such good men."
Author Unknown (provided by Dave Gehr C/3/22nd)
A little dose of reality experience...
The war on terrorism grew a little closer to home for me personally with a recent early morning call. My elderly mother has had a young lady assisting her for a couple years and I’ve come to know this young wife of a marine who is going through ROTC now, taking advantage of the college program offered to those on active duty. He has served one tour in Iraq and will be returning to active duty as an officer upon graduation. I’ve never met him, but have always been impressed with his dedication as a result of hearing his wife describe him and keep me informed of his progress.
Beth called to say she couldn’t make an appointment with my Mother because her husband was heading to Iraq that very day to escort his best friend’s body home after he was killed there. Needless to say, such news does kind of wake a person up to the reality of what we see, hear and read almost daily, but is somewhat unreal until it reaches out and touches you as this call did me.
I suspect others have had similar experiences, perhaps with more direct knowledge of and relationship with the fallen. I sincerely hope all of us are all doing what we can to show support for those who are serving their country in this monumental effort to preserve freedom and our way of life. This experience will, I know, renew my effort to reach out and do more to overcome the seeming apathy and indifference of many to those who are shouldering the burdens of defending their country. It brings to mind, in no small way, the feelings I felt personally, upon return home almost 40 years ago…
God bless all those who have served and are serving now! May we assure them in whatever manner we can that their sacrifice does not go without acknowledgement and the honor they deserve.
WK Irish grunt editor
We know the worth of a thing when we have lost it.
