My father is CW4 (Ret) Forrest Edward Myers.
Dad was drafted at the age of 19 and served in Burma during WWII as a Military Police Officer guarding the Burma Pass in Japan. He repaired helicopters during the Korean War Conflict and later flew Huey’s on his first tour of Vietnam and later flew Sikorsky Sky Cranes during the second tour. In between war times, he served in Germany twice. His specialty was helicopter maintenance, test pilot and heavy lift helicopter pilot delivering items such as howitzers to the Marines up on the mountains and hillsides of Vietnam. The Search and Rescue was mostly for the helicopters, but if a pilot or crew member was there, he rescued them as well. When he was flying the Crane, most of his job entailed delivery of heavy equipment, the pods that went underneath the crane for both tours. But he also searched and rescued downed helicopters.
His great-great-great uncle was General Thomas Sumpter of the Revolutionary War. His great-great-grandfather served also. Dad has had a multitude of ancestors and family members who served on both sides of the Civil War and ancestors who served in the War of 1812. His two younger brothers served in the Army and were stationed in Germany. We have his family history back to the 4th or 5th century.
Dad, who will be 89 years old this year, speaks quiet frankly about what happened during WWII while in Burma and his most terrifying experience. He and his patrol were in the back of a “Deuce and a half” (large equipment or troop carrier truck, called that because of it’s 2 and a half ton payload) when they heard a noise outside of the back of the truck. They peeked out of the canvas covering the back of the truck and saw a black panther cat rummaging around their camp. All of them decided that they would just stay quiet and sit back there until the cat left as none of them wanted to be his next meal.
I think his greatest fear was not coming home alive. Dad hated writing letters and would send us recordings. Mom would load the tiny reels on the reel to reel recorder, we would listen to them. In the background you could hear mortar fire, gun fire, and all kinds of activity with him making comments such as “whew that was close”. It was decided then that he would no longer do that because it worried my Mom, as whenever there was an OD Green Ford LTD running around the neighborhood, she’d freeze in fear afraid that it was someone coming to tell her that Dad was killed in action. It was like that until he’d come home.
The Dad I knew prior to Vietnam was a different Dad upon his return. We were told upon his first return not to make sudden noises and be a distance away from him if we had to wake him up from a nap or something. He was rather “jumpy” to say the least, when he returned. I would try to ask him questions about the war, but instead of answering, he would just mail me copies of the award letters he had received during that situation. The Award letters told of what he had done to achieve that award, and believe me, they were hair raising experiences. I did ask of him was which war was the toughest on him, and he said, by far, the Vietnam War. He told me a story of how he had convinced a young crew chief to go to Fort Rucker to learn to fly helicopters, and he learned a few years later that fellow was shot down and died as a result of it. Dad said he would never urge someone to do something again after that. I have been trying to squeeze my father’s war experiences out of him for years now, but when we would get to the Vietnam War he clammed up, and said he didn’t want to go further.
My understanding is that after Dad’s first tour home, nothing happened. However, I learned only about 10 or 12 years ago that his second tour, even though dressed in civilian attire (the command’s recommendation) he was spit on when he landed in San Francisco, California. As a teenager, when the protests were happening about the Vietnam War, I stood on the opposite side and protested them for protesting my Dad. I think Dad’s reception home was the deciding factor on his retiring from the Army in 1970, versus putting in a full 30 years before retiring. He had 26 years in when he retired.
After having fought cancer and won, I knew God kept me on this earth for a reason, and that reason was to help others in the military, law enforcement, emergency services and firefighters. I heard about an organization of motorcyclists that stood at funerals, invited by family members, to shield the family and friends from protesters at the worst time a family could be going through. They had officially started in November of 2005. I joined the Patriot Guard Riders and became a Ride Captain, and moved up the ranks to Assistant State Captain for East Tennessee, a position I held for nearly 5 years.
Now I am a flag bearer, the most honored job there is in the Patriot Guard Riders.
~Deb Myers McKay
www.patriotguard.org
We are very grateful to Deb for sharing her personal story with Comes A Soldier’s Whisper, where we are all connected.
God Bless all who serve and keep us safe.
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