Remembering

Memorial Day - in the States, it is most often thought of as a day off from school and work or a day for good sales and shopping.  Sometimes, it is mistakenly used as a day to honor our military men and women.  But this day is set apart for those who have given their lives in service to our country, leaving behind families and friends who would always carry an empty spot in their hearts.  As we pause to remember, we'd like to share a few stories of some of our family heroes who laid down their lives for our nation.

(It is no coincidence that the first two are "Jacks".  Though our Jack was primarily named after my grandfather, these two other Jacks were always in my mind and heart when I thought about having sons of my own one day....so Jack carries a few legacies within his own name.)

1st Lieutenant Jack Warren Mathis

Jack Mathis was born on September 25, 1921, in San Angelo, Texas, and grew up in nearby Sterling City. He enlisted in the Army on June 12, 1940, and served in an artillery unit at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, until he learned that his brother Mark had enlisted in the then-U.S. Army Air Corps.

Mathis transferred into his brother's unit and began aviation cadet training at Goodfellow Field in San Angelo. Both were trained as bombardiers and commissioned as Second Lieutenants upon graduation. Jack Mathis was assigned to the 303d Bombardment Group of the Eighth Air Force in England, where he flew 14 missions.

On March 19, 1943, Mathis was lead bombardier on a mission over Vegesack, Germany. As lead bombardier it was his responsibility to direct the bombing of the entire squadron. An exploding antiaircraft shell sent fragments into Mathis' plane, shattering his right arm and severely wounding him in the right side and abdomen. Despite being mortally wounded, Mathis propped himself over the Norden bombsight, located the target and dropped his bombs. He died at his post, but had directed the mission's bombing with great precision, and for his actions was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.

Mark Mathis was on base when the plane carrying his brother's body landed after the mission. At his own request, Mark Mathis was transferred into Jack Mathis' crew to replace him as bombardier. When the crew completed its tour of duty, Mark Mathis stayed in combat and was killed in action over the North Sea in May 1943. Jack Mathis is buried in Fairmount Cemetery in San Angelo, Texas, and his Medal of Honor is on display at the National Museum of the United States Air Force at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio. The sports and fitness center at Goodfellow Air Force Base in San Angelo, Texas was named in his honor in 1966. Mathis Municipal Airport in San Angelo was named in honor of both Mathis brothers in 1988.

(Lt Mathis is standing in the back row, far right in this picture with his bomber crew.)

The words from his Medal of Honor citation are: 

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty in action with the enemy over Vegesack, Germany, on March 18, 1943. 1st Lt. Mathis, as leading bombardier of his squadron, flying through intense and accurate antiaircraft fire, was just starting his bomb run, upon which the entire squadron depended for accurate bombing, when he was hit by the enemy antiaircraft fire. His right arm was shattered above the elbow, a large wound was torn in his side and abdomen, and he was knocked from his bomb sight to the rear of the bombardier's compartment. Realizing that the success of the mission depended upon him, 1st Lt. Mathis, by sheer determination and willpower, though mortally wounded, dragged himself back to his sights, released his bombs, then died at his post of duty. As the result of this action the airplanes of his bombardment squadron placed their bombs directly upon the assigned target for a perfect attack against the enemy. 1st Lt. Mathis' undaunted bravery has been a great inspiration to the officers and men of his unit."

(Information obtained from the U.S. Air Force official website.)

2nd Lieutenant John "Jack" Lance Geoghegan

Jack Geoghegan was born in New York on November 10, 1941 (our Jack shares his birthday) and was the only, beloved son of his parents.  He was a cadet at Pennsylvania Military College in the early 1960s and was a legend there, even while attending.  He was known for his deep concern for others, his modesty and lack of pretense, despite the fact that he held student offices and won almost every award there was to receive.  Yet he never spoke of these things and continued to put others' needs before his own. 

After marrying his wife, Barbara, and graduating from college, he grew restless in his desire to serve others and received a military deferment to help people in need. He searched for jobs in third world countries and found the perfect opportunity with the Catholic Relief Services and in July 1964, he and his young bride set out for Dar es Salaam, Tanganyika (which became Tanzania that same year). Jack headed a school lunch program that fed 120,000 children a day. He and Barbara traveled around the country a great deal, making sure supplies from the United States were getting to their destination. Jack loved Africa and wanted to go back after his two-year Army commitment was over. The experience in Tanzania fulfilled his loving, altruistic, giving spirit. After Jack’s death Barbara received several letters from friends in Africa. One of them said, "Jack was a Christian down to the deepest part of his being, that when it came to seeing Christ in others, Jack was the first to recognize Him and act on that knowledge." Another said, "I had this terrible premonition about Jack when I heard he was going to Vietnam. Aside from the fact that he seemed almost too good for this world, it was his integrity that made me worry about him - he would be incapable of averting a dangerous situation in order to "take care of Jack."

In what was probably Jack’s last letter to his parents, he wrote on Nov. 7, "We have been on the defensive perimeter for almost two weeks and have been actively patrolling for that time. The men are becoming more professional everyday. Replacements have already arrived for the men who went home sick or those leaving the Army for good. As each one goes home, I feel good that he has made it safely." And then, "Each day here increases one’s love for the United States and the desire for security. Even Grand Central Station seems a paradise right now. Oh, how I will enjoy a quiet ride in Connecticut with no one shooting at me. I know that my life will never be the same after I return from here. Even in Africa we didn’t realize how many comforts we had compared to here. Death is so close that the small things make life worthwhile - a cup of coffee, a drink of water. Please do not get me wrong. I’m not complaining, only thanking God for the opportunity to learn what is really important and to see what honor can be like. It will make me a much better man. We learn each day."

One week and a day later, on November 15, Jack and all but three of his men died in the Ia Drang Valley. Just as he had lived life, serving others' needs above his own, he died serving others.  He was killed while going to the aid of one of his men, an African-American enlisted man named Willie Godboldt.  Their names are next to each other on the Vietnam Memorial. Just as the letter from Africa had stated, Jack was incapable of avoiding danger merely for his own safety.  Jack was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star with 'V' for valor, and in 1997, through the efforts of General Moore, the Silver Star.  His story may be somewhat familiar to you, as he was portrayed in the movie "We Were Soldiers Once", played by the actor Chris Klein. 

I had the great honor of meeting Jack's widow, Barbara Johns and her husband, Brig General John Johns while at Officer Training School in 2002.  She stopped by to meet me after we had corresponded briefly by email.  I was so deeply moved by Jack's story and the legacy he left of love for the Lord and a true servant's heart...those were the types of heroes I wanted to hold onto as I joined the military myself. 

Jack's mother wrote a letter in 1966 stating, "I believe with all my soul that great spiritual things will come to people through Jack. This is a conviction with me, not just wishful thinking."   I know this is true and I hope that more people will be touched by the story of his life. 

(Information obtained from Barbara's own account on www.virtualwall.org )

And, more recently and more personally, we will include two young lives that were lost in the war in Iraq.

Airman First Class Antoine C. Holt

Airman Holt was from Kennesaw, Georgia and was serving as an air traffic controller at Balad Air Base in the spring of 2004 when I was also deployed there.  His tent was one row over from mine.  On the night of Good Friday, April 9-10, 2004, we were hit with a massive attack of mortars and rockets from the enemy.  It was one of the first and most concentrated attacks on an air base, with several impacts surrounding Tent City.  I was at work that night, monitoring each strike and praying that no one would be injured or killed.  We soon noticed that there was a direct hit on Tent City.  Early on Saturday morning, April 10th, a mortar struck Airman Holt's tent, where he had been sleeping.  He died almost instantly and two others were wounded.  It was said that there was an open Bible laying by his bed.  It was a terrible loss, even for those of us who did not know Airman Holt personally.  But it was evident that his caring and generous heart had impacted many, as seen at his memorial service at Balad AB.  He left behind a wife and a one-year old daughter.

Not a single Good Friday passes without me vividly remembering that night and remembering Airman Holt.

Army Sergeant Tyler D. Prewitt

Tyler Prewitt - a name that is familiar to our family and friends in Phoenix, Arizona.  Tyler was a classmate and baseball teammate of my brothers and joined the Army after the terrorist attacks of September 11th.  He was serving as a field medic in Baqubah, Iraq, when the vehicle he was in was struck by a rocket propelled grenade.  He was transferred to Landstuhl, Germany, where he died of his injuries on September 28, 2004.  In life, he wanted to help others and did so as a medic.  In death, his organs were donated to continue his legacy of giving and helping. 

His death hit close to home for our family.  I was at Dover Air Force Base in September 2004, and my dad and I were near the runway when Tyler's casket was taken solemnly from the C-5 aircraft and carried to the Port Mortuary.  I stood at a salute, honoring Tyler for his sacrifice. 


Please take a few moments, this Memorial Day Weekend, to remember those who have died and to pray for the families left behind.  Thank the Lord for our freedom and for those willing to lay down their lives so that we might maintain our own.  And, remember the One who gave the ultimate sacrifice - Christ Jesus - so that we might have ETERNAL freedom.