A Hero

It was a hot August afternoon in the rural community of Assumption, Illinois. The year was 1962 and it was my first of thirty-nine coaching years. In that inaugural teaching/coaching journey, I was assisting in football and basketball while serving as head baseball coach.

We were about two weeks into football practice and the anticipation for a good season was high in that football crazy town. A number of veterans returned and a strong junior class would compliment. One of the top players was absent from practice this day.  Co-Captain, tight-end, Joe Smith was seeing an orthopedic specialist in Decatur for a consultation regarding a large swollen bump on his upper right arm (humerus bone). Joe figured to be a force for the 'Comets.' As the players were completing their stretching and warm-up routine, Joe was seen walking towards the field. When Joe got within facial view of the coaches, I could tell the news from the doctor was not good. Joe had tears in his eyes as he spoke to the head coach. The diagnosis 'severe calcium deposit with potential serious complications if not given complete rest.' Translation? No physical contact. No senior football season for Joe Smith. He was crushed as he spoke these words, "All I wanted to do was to make a contribution."

Joe was an excellent academic student, a National Honor Society member and President of his senior class. He comported himself with a maturity far exceeding his teen years. He had a terrific  personality supported by a kind smile and a wonderful sense of humor.

Joe finished his senior year and left that small farming community to attend the University of Notre Dame. I left Assumption after two years to assume varsity basketball and baseball coaching duties at  Mason City high school (Illinois). Some ten years later, I was invited back to Assumption for a   reunion. My wife and I arrived at the dinner affair just in time to be ushered to our seats. After the invocation, I was reading through the evening's program and suddenly that sick feeling;
"In Memory of Captain Joseph 'Joe' Smith." Joe Smith age 25, had his F-100 Super Sabre fighter jet shot out of the Cambodia skies during the Vietnam War. At that moment, I felt some burning in my  eyes as tears begged for release. That evening continued and sharing laughter ruled the night...but always I hurt for the young boy who just wanted to 'serve the cause. I also hurt for his mother who went to her grave never knowing the whereabouts of her missing in action son.

Yesterday, I went to Assumption. Eight miles from my destination, I began to notice large  American flags posted along Route 51...thousands of American flags! The little town of 1350 folks  was bursting at the seams that day to celebrate a Hero's Homecoming. Forty-six years after his death, the remains of Air Force Captain Joe Smith was laid to rest beside his mother and father. Standing in  the cemetery, I heard the faint sound of Taps being played in a far off distance. My thoughts? 'All he wanted to do was to make a contribution.' Joe made the ultimate contribution. This time I let my tears have their way.
 They say that a coach  touches the lives of many boys he mentors; some times the boy touches the coach's life.
(Touch)
Fallen Hero