The 173d Airborne Brigade Reunion in Lexington - Corregidor

June 2012, Issue 42 ~SPECIAL EDITION~ Contact: rto173d@cfl.rr.com 

See all issues to date at the 503 rd Heritage Battalion web site: 

http://corregidor.org/VN2-503/newsletter/issue_index.htm 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

~ The 173d Airborne Brigade Reunion in Lexington ~ 

Hide your daughters and liquor mother, 

the 173d & 503rd Airborne are dropping in! 

Downtown Lexington as seen from the Hyatt Hotel. A neat, clean and active city worth visiting. 

2/503d VIETNAM Newsletter / June 2012 – Issue 42 

Page 1 of 57

Faces of a 173d Airborne Reunion under The Blue Skies Of Kentucky 

Thanks for coming! 


Page 2 of 57

History, Horses & Hooch 

W 

hat a great reunion it was in Lexington, KY, and 

troopers Roy Scott, Dave Carmon, Skip Kniley, 

Terry Aubrey and their entire reunion 

organizing crew are to be commended for their hard 

work and putting on a most successful event. Although 

some of us had questioned the wisdom of holding a 

paratrooper reunion in ‘horse country’, any concerns 

were quickly dispelled upon arrival in this beautiful part 

of our nation. Then again, we are The Herd. 

For this trooper and his bride, our reunion began 

Tuesday evening upon arrival at Whispering Hills RV 

Park about a 20 minute drive to reunion central, the 

Hyatt Hotel in Lexington. There, my wife Reggie and I 

were greeted by good friends Jerry Wiles (B/2/503) and 

his bride, Harriet. After checking in our little van and 

parking it alongside Jerry & Harriet’s bigass RV, we all 

headed to Georgetown, a quaint little berg nearby for 

some vittles. Returning to the camp, we crashed early 

following our 900 mile drive from Florida. 

Just before leaving Florida’s 

Space Coast on that Monday, 

Larry Hampton of A/1/503 sent 

an email with the saddest of 

news Ranger Mike Taylor, 2/503, 

a mutual buddy here in Florida, 

had died from a heart attack at 

the age of 63. On that sad note 

we began a solemn journey Ranger Mike 

north, often talking about Mike 

and his wife, Diane. Mike would be remembered by 

many throughout the week in Kentucky, Mike’s home 

state, and will be remembered beyond. RLTW 

Wednesday morning this squad of four loaded-up and 

headed to Lexington, ever on the lookout for Blue 

Grass, but finding none. The reunion was in full bloom 

with troopers of every size, age, color and hair pattern, 

or lack thereof, running every which-way….actually, 

there was very little running going on, but a lot of 

limping. Many of these warriors had already found the 

hospitality suite where beer was flowing freely, while 

the hardcore drinkers went on a search and find mission 

for the upstairs or downstairs bars where troopers were 

hoping to meet the local Kentuckian, Jim Beam. 

After having our 2/503 banner hung in the hospitality 

suite (no doubt to the chagrin of 1 st , 3 rd & 4 th Bats), we 

noticed old friendships were being reestablished while 

new friendships were developed; many quickly and 

stealthily eyeballing name tags to confirm the name 

matched the face they remember. 

In the early afternoon we attended a small reception for 

the five guest WWII 503 rd troopers and their family 

members. It was great to meet these guys and their 

families. Roy Scott and Dave Carmon made brief 

welcoming remarks, and then Skip and Terry presented 

each of the troopers and their companions with 

specially-designed 173d/503rd reunion jackets 

produced earlier by good buddy Wayne Bowers, 

C/2/503, and on behalf of the many Sky Soldiers and 

friends of Sky Soldiers who made possible our inviting 

these men of the 503 rd PIR to the reunion. Eight 

‘volunteers’, including trooper Dick Adams of the 503 rd 

PIR, led us in a fun round of Blood on the Risers, with 

everyone joining in on the chorus, which brought the 

welcome reception to a close. For the record, Jerry 

Wiles should never again sing in public as it could 

frighten little children and small animals. 

At reception, donning their neato jackets, WWII 503 rd 

troopers Ray Basham (L) and Jim Mullaney shake hands. 

They served together on The Rock in 1945, and are meeting 

here for the first time. In background 503 rd trooper Dick 

Adams speaks with Mary Lea Quick, Jim’s daughter. 

Following this gathering was scheduled a ‘President’s 

Meeting’, which, having not attended, little can be 

added here about it. The balance of the evening was 

spent with buddies laughing and crying together, you 

know, the stuff we do. 

Returning to the RV Park our ladies retired for the 

evening while Jerry and I did our utmost best to polish 

off a quart of Caribbean rum. As the night worn on into 

the early morning hours, the quart of rum became a 

half-quart of rum and our war stories began depicting 

us as having been much braver as we told them for the 

second and third times. By about 2 a.m. we agreed we 

were both deserving of the MOH, or at least two Silver 

Stars each, and would file a complaint the next day. 

(continued….) 


Page 3 of 57

The next day, Thursday, this old RTO somehow awoke, 

with a splitting headache and not so brave, while the 

bride helped me get dressed and into my golf shoes for 

the big tournament, STARTING AT 8 A.M! I’d like to 

meet the bastard who scheduled that so early in the 

morning! AUBREY!!!! 

Arriving the course with no time to spare, I teamed-up 

with Bob “Luke” Lucas and Terry “Woody” Davis of 

A/2/503, and our ringer, Long Ball Paul Dinardo of 

3/319th. We managed to get thru the course o.k., altho 

losing many of our little white balls along the way, with 

minimal hope of actually winning the thing. We won 

the thing! Well, sort of. Leaving that threesome behind 

to collect the spoils, I quickly headed to the Kentucky 

Theatre in Lexington for Operation Corregidor II, the 

WWII 503rd presentations. 

Cowboy chopper dude, Tony Geishauser, who led 

Operation Corregidor I in Myrtle Beach a couple years 

ago, again served as moderator for this year’s meeting, 

and did one hellofajob of it too. Arriving late from golf I 

missed the video of those 503rd troopers crashing into 

the rocks of Corregidor (it can often be seen on the 

Military Channel), but did catch most of their talks. 

In my view, this meeting, and having the opportunity to 

meet those 5 troopers of the original 503rd, was the 

centerpiece of this year’s reunion. Their stories and 

recollections kept us spellbound, and there was no 

shortage of questions by Sky Soldiers for these men of 

the Pacific Theatre. As good buddy Marc Thurston 

D/2/503 said in a note the other day, “All we ever 

wanted was to be like them.” Yes, Marc, well put bro. 

A short evening with a stop for Thai food, and Thursday 

became history; altho the bar at the Hyatt remained 

active as we snuck out the door, lest we be challenged 

by some coin-carrying soldier of the Sky kind -- which 

reminds me of Bob “Luke” Lucas who the night before 

foolishly slammed his challenge coin on the bar top. 

Silly boy. Ears perked-up throughout the room like 

prairie dogs -- as no doubt Luke’s ears will when his wife 

sees his Amex bill. Thanks Luke. 

Part of Friday was spent driving to nowhere, getting a 

taste for this beautiful countryside, while back at 

reunion central troopers reminisced of days of yore 

when we were young men, fighting other young men. 

Has it really been nearly 50 years? Nah, can’t be. 

Saturday was another action packed and fun filled day 

hanging with the brothers. About mid-afternoon many 

of these Sky Soldiers and their Sky Soldierettes retired 

to their rooms to don pretty outfits in anticipation of 

the closing banquet that evening. We would learn the 

general meeting had been held and Ft. Bragg, Home of 

the Airborne, will be the site of our 2014 reunion; Las 

Vegas having already been selected for next year. 

Our RV friends, Jerry and Harriet decided to skip the 

meal, but we were fortunate to share a table with good 

buddy Craig Ford C/1/503, and two Sky Soldier families, 

as we watched young kids post colors. Craig didn’t 

want my chicken and Reggie stole my dessert – there 

ain’t no joy in Lexington….or is it Mudville? 

There were a few speeches, including one by a General 

who did a yeoman’s job honoring the troops. But the 

surprise of the evening was when Capt. Gary Prisk, 

“Cap”, C/D/2/503, took the 

mike at center stage. Speak- 

ing extemporaneously, Cap 

had us all near weeping one 

moment, then laughing our 

asses off the next. The 

trooper is not only a good 

author, he’s a great orator; Cap, enlightening the masses 

but, he didn’t buy me one of 

the many rum drinks he owes me during the entire 

reunion, so I won’t mention his book, Digger, Dogface, 

Brownjob, Grunt, here. It won silver. 

From this old paratrooper’s perspective, the most 

moving part of the evening was Roy Scott‘s speech 

about our WWII 503 rd guests, and the award 

presentations which followed. The entire house stood, 

applauded and honored each of the 503 rd troopers as 

each man was presented with a special certificate of 

appreciation from troopers of the 173d. Roy’s speech 

and the text of the award appear in this newsletter. 

For two reunions, this one and Myrtle Beach, we had 

planned to end the ceremonies with a round of Blood 

on the Risers, with everyone joining in on the chorus, 

but failed to do it both times. Too bad. Vegas, are you 

listening? “He ain’t gonna jump no more!” 

Hugs all around, slaps on the back, and “I’ll see you 

soon’s” followed the banquet, and another 173d 

Airborne Brigade reunion faded into history. That is, of 

course, until we all see one another again, soon. 

Be well brothers, be very well. ATW 

Lew “Smitty” Smith 

HHC/2/503d, ‘65/’66 


Page 4 of 57

~ Around and About the Reunion ~ 

Diggers, Dogfaces, Brownjobs & 

Grunts were all in attendance 

Wambi Cook A/2/503 on left with Gary Prisk, C/D/2/503d. 

The good Captain, Gary Prisk, former company 

commander of Charlie Company 2/503 seen here with 

Wambi, did something very special at the reunion. Gary 

donated 500 copies of his award-winning novel, Digger, 

Dogface, Brownjob, Grunt to raise money for the 173d 

Memorial Maintenance Fund. For hour after hour the 

Cap sat at his table signing copies of his book for Sky 

Soldiers and friends of Sky Soldiers in attendance. 

Thanks to Gary and everyone who made a donation, 

thousands of dollars were raised. ATW Cap! And 

thanks to Terry Aubrey’s wife for allowing him to store 

the books in their house for weeks, all the while 

threatening divorce or some appropriate punishment. 

Col. Ken Smith and his wife Susan during closing banquet. 

SGM Mike Deeb and wife Pat. 

Bill Nicholls (A/2/503) and his wife Judy, 

Reggie’s ‘Airborne Sister’. 

The Herd meets the herd. 


Page 5 of 57

Ed Carns, CO A/2/503 & Recon, & Wambi Cook, A/2/503. 

Charles Kizer and Wambi A/2/503d, 2/67-2/68 

In the vendor area was this fun 173d shoot ‘em up arcade 

game by Jeremiah Minor, B/2/503 ABCT. 

503 rd Trooper Jim Mullaney on left, with a young fellow 

touching American history. 

L-R: Pam Geishauser & Reggie Smith, chowing down on 

popcorn. They were heard to say, “Cheap husbands, this is 

dinner? Where are the young paratroopers?” 

“Okay. I’m gonna say this once. 

Which one of you took my glasses?” 


Page 6 of 57

Maj. Tony Geishauser, Cowboy pilot, moderator of 

Operation Corregidor II, and golfer extraordinaire. 

A picture of Craig Ford, C/1/503, taking a picture. 

A great pic of 2/503d’s NO DEROS ALPHA wild turkeys out on patrol. L-R: Jim Miskel, Ron Sedlak, Jim Gettel and Dave 

Zsigo, brother of Alex Zsigo KIA, Dak To. 


Page 7 of 57

Alpha still on patrol. “Only two things fall from the sky; 

bird shit and paratroopers.” Hmmm 

Ron, ridin’ ‘em hard an puttin’ ‘em away wet. “Hey guys, 

come back! Someone help me off this thing! Hey!” 

Pam Geishauser spending Tony’s ill-gotten gains at the 

Hyatt. 

Dickie Wright, Recon, 2/503d 

Dapper lookin’ HHC/Recon 2/503 trooper Pat Bowe, with 

Carol Lamb and Judy Donohue more interested in 

Words with Friends. 


Page 8 of 57

HHC/2/503 Recon Platoon from ‘66/’67. 

L-R: Dickie Wright, Ed Carns, Jerry Hassler, 

Joe Lamb, Pat Bowe and Dave Kies, with 

Mike Donohue kneeling and Chuck Spagnola 

with hand on Mike’s shoulder. 

HHC/2/503 Recon Platoon after combat jump in February 

1967. 


Page 9 of 57

At 503 rd welcome reception, L-R: Tony Sierra, Ray & 

Mary Basham, Nancy & Dick Adams, with friends and 

family. 

L-R at reception: Pat Sirmeyer 3/319 th , Theresa Poklop, 

Tony Cicchino 503 rd , and Reggie Smith. 

Danny Day center and Roy Scott right meeting some new 

friends. The lady is a nurse at VA and that's her husband. 

Thank you Sir. 

At the track, Kentucky’s fastest. 


Page 10 of 57

Was told this Mustang on display at the reunion was 

purchased by a 173d ABCT trooper, KIA. His father later 

decorated the car in honor and in memory of his son. 

Unfortunately, we could not identify names. 

The 3 Amigos. Three A/2/503 company commanders, L-R: 

Jack Kelley, Dave Milton & Ed Carns. 

Kathy Weatherman, Dave Milton and Ed Weatherman. 

Ed & Dave both survived the Battle of the Slopes in June 

1967. This is Ed’s first reunion in 45 years. 

Danny Day, 173d Engineers & Master Blaster. 

Mike “Mr. Te” Thibault, A/2/503d. Years before this 

photo was taken in Lexington, Mike would build a 

dormitory at a high school outside of Saigon for 

needy kids in memory of his father. Good job G.I. 

A/2/503d guidon 

returns to the 

jungles of the 

“D” Zone in ’05, 

by Gus Vendetti 

and Bill Vose. 


Page 11 of 57

503 rd PIR Trooper Ray Basham and his bride Mary. 

503 rd PIR Trooper Tony Sierra and his bride Elizabeth. 

Three buddies. They were young men, and paratroopers. 

Sky Soldier golfer on right with Golf Tournament 

organizer Terry Aubrey, who started the tournament 

AT 8 A.M! He should drop for 20 for that. 

Golf Course in Lexington 

Somewhere hiding in the blue grass of Kentucky our lost 

little white balls call out to us, “Here, here, I’m over here!” 

Momma Ski (is that Eric Hitchcock?), 

with Gold Stars Robert & Paula Lehmiller speaking with 

Craig Ford in the background. 


Page 12 of 57

Paratroopers, mugging for the camera. L-R: Lew “Smitty” Smith (HHC/2/503), Jerry Wiles (B/2/503), Gary “Cap” Prisk 

(C/D/2/503d), Bob Fleming (A/D/2/503), Larry “Big Dog” Hampton (A/1/503), Danny Day (Engineers) & Mike Nale (B/2/503). 

If this photo doesn’t scare the VC, nothing will. 

Won Hung Lo: Did you see those guys? 

Phuc Me: Yeah. Who are they? 

Won: I dunno, but they sure are scary looking. 

Phuc: Should we shoot them? 

Won: We better not, I think they’re Sky Soldiers. 

Phuc: Yeah, I heard of them. Why do they have only one wing on their patch? 

Won: You dummy. It’s because they can fight with one wing tied behind their backs! 

Phuc: Let’s di di before the guy with the socks sees us, I hear he’s crazy. 

Won: Not him, he’s o.k. It’s that attorney Vose you’re thinking of -- he’s not in the photo. 


Page 13 of 57

Angela & Bob Fleming (A/D/2/503d). 

Sky Soldierettes, L-R: Judy, Susan, Pat & Angela. 

2/503d’s finest, Ed Weatherman, Bill Nicholls, Ken Smith, Bob Fleming & Mike Deeb. They clean-up well. 


Page 14 of 57

~ 2/503d’s NO DEROS ALPHA ~ 

Looking strac. 

“I don’t know but I’ve been told. 

Alpha troopers are mighty bold!” 


Page 15 of 57

Siblings of Tom Duffy KIA 6/22/67, Brian and Kay Duffy, 

of Glen Ellyn, IL, with Wambi Cook. 

Dave Zsigo, brother of Alex, KIA 6/22/67, and 

Pat Mika McGrew, sister of Stephen, KIA 6/22/67. 

~ Gold Star Families ~ 

~ Gold Star Mothers ~ 

Formed in 1928 and chartered by 

Congress in 1984. In WWI a custom 

evolved to display red and white banners 

with a blue star for each living member 

of a family serving in the US Armed 

Forces. 

A Gold Star was displayed on the 

banner to indicate service members 

who lost their lives in the service and 

the sacrifice of mothers for our 

country. 

The last Sunday in September is Gold 

Star Mothers Day. 

Gold Star father, Robert Lehmiller; son 

Michael, 23, KIA Afghanistan, 8/21/05. 


Page 16 of 57

SIBLINGS UNITE WITH 

THEIR FALLEN 

BROTHERS’ COMRADES 

By Wambi Cook 

A/2/503d, 2/67-2/68 

I 

n an earlier issue of this newsletter, I wrote about my 

connecting with several family members whose 

brothers were KIA either at the Battle of the Slopes 

on June 22,1967, or Hill 875 in November of the same 

year. It’s been almost a decade since I first decided I’d 

make it my sense of duty to contact as many family and 

friends as possible of my former comrades who perished 

in these particularly shocking battles. 

To no surprise, I discovered most family members had 

little or no intimate knowledge surrounding their loved 

ones’ demise and I assumed that most would want to 

know as much as possible about their final days or 

hours. And, for the most part, I was right. There were, 

however, some who appreciated my exploration yet 

chose to leave those memories in the past. I respected 

their feelings and instantly backed off. 

Because of dated information, the majority of my 

searches led to dead-ends. On the other hand, the vast 

majority who I was successful in contacting were 

gracious beyond my imagination. With some I was able 

to recall specific episodes, and with others it was the fact 

that I casually knew their father, brother, son or uncle, 

but had little else to add. 

Over the years I’ve maintained regular contact with 

many families, and I’ve been made to feel we mutually 

consider one another as good friends. I’ve even played a 

small role in having some of them not only becoming 

Gold Star members, but in convincing a handful to 

attend a reunion to hopefully meet others who knew and 

served with their fallen family member, and who might 

possibly share more cherished details than I. 

Dave Zsigo’s older brother, Alex, was KIA 6/22/67. 

Dave Zsigo (L) and Wambi at the reunion in Lexington. 

Brother and sister Brian & Kay Duffy’s brother, Tom, 

and Pat Mika McGrew’s brother Steve Mika, were both 

KIA during The Battle of the Slopes. 

L-R: Brian, Kay, Pat and Wambi visiting the Kentucky 

Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Frankfort. 

I recently attempted to email a dozen or so contacts that 

I’d gathered over the last few months. Over half were 

other than close relatives. Most, again, warmly received 

my emails, and I passed along as much personal info as 

possible while referring them to past and future issues of 

this very newsletter, and the Sky Soldier Magazine, as 

well as several internet links. Perhaps I’ve inspired 

others to follow my lead? I can assure you, you’ll be a 

better human being for it. 

“Sweet is war to those who have never experienced it.” 


Page 17 of 57

A poem given us at the reunion by a family member of one 

of our guest WWII 503rd troopers. 

The Silk Buster 

There’s a deep throated roar and a rushing of wind 

The seat of your pants shoves hard ‘gin your skin 

The tail comes on up and levels the floor 

And the earth seems to sing beneath the door. 

Airborne! You sit back to smoke, chew, and sweat! 

Thinking thoughts of malfunctions that haven’t happened yet. 

Hard, earnest, young faces and they’re all peering down 

As the “Goose glides along…” farmland and town. 

There’s music up there and it’s wild and it’s sweet 

That’s ne’er heard by the man with dirt ‘neath his feet. 

There’s feeling, too, that’s old but e’er new 

‘Cause you can never tell what the darn’d silk will do. 

The jumpmaster scans his watch an’ swings up straight 

A few more minutes will bring an end to the wait. 

There’s a rasp of steel and he’s fastened his hook. 

He turns about, into the door, to have a look. 

Down, past a brown boot toe, 

He watches the landscape slip below. 

The tiny round button turns a blazing blood red! 

“Stand Up!” And thirteen ‘troopers shake out the lead… 

“Hook Up!” A rasp and a snap as hooks grab steel… 

“Check your equipment!” A hasty look, a faster feel… 

“Sound off for Equipment Check!” And loose comes a roar 

That starts at the “Office” and rides to the door. 

Ages you stand, as seconds flash past, 

Bodies grow tight as steel and breath comes fast! 

“Stand in the Door!” Muscles tighten some more. 

There’s a crowding and a scuffling of boots on the dirty floor. 

“Are you Ready!” It is not a question for he knows damned 

well 

They’d follow him out to a drop zone in hell! 

“Let’s Go!” Lights turn green as the string uncoils 

And bodies flash out where the prop blast boils! 

Out and down beneath the tail, 

Static lines tighten and the pack lacings fail. 

The break cord snaps and the silk billows out. 

There’s a dirty, stinging shock – and a gleeful shout! 

Eyes flash up to the silk blossom high in the sky – 

Hard young hands grasp the risers and all the doubts die. 

The ‘trooper looks down; the earthbound plot below 

And then comes a feeling that alone he can know 

‘Cause there’s music up there that is wild and sweet 

That’s never heard by the man with dirt ‘neath his feet! 

Composed by Capt. Brown, Parachute Infantry 

~ Silk from The Rock ~ 

Thanks to Dick Adams, 503 rd PIR, who made the 

Corregidor jump, for also giving me a piece of silk from 

a chute which made the jump onto ‘The Rock’ on 

February 16, 1945. During a return visit to the island, 

Dick found this slice of history, no doubt part of the 

same chute from which Paul Fisher received a piece. 

One day this will be sent to the Infantry Museum at 

Benning, the Airborne Museum or given to the new 

173d Airborne. Thanks Dick, what an honor!! Ed 


Page 18 of 57

Some History… 

Touchdown on Topside 

~ Operation Corregidor II ~ 

Lexington, KY 

At 08:33 on 16 February 1945, barely three minutes late 

from their intended time, and facing 16-18 knot winds 

over the drop zones, the first of one thousand troopers of 

the 503rd PRCT based at Mindoro, began dropping out 

of C-47 troop carriers of the U.S. Thirteenth Air Force 

and to float down on the surprised Japanese defenders, 

remnants of Maj. Gen. Rikichi Tsukada's Kembu Group 

at the two tiny go-point areas of Topside's western 

heights. However, some paratroopers were blown back 

into Japanese held territory. Despite rumors to the 

contrary, no troopers drowned, though some were unable 

to climb the cliffs through hostile territory, or had fallen 

close to the rocks were rescued near Wheeler Point. 

503 rd drops onto The Rock. 

Despite the grueling air and naval bombardment which 

left the defending troops dazed and scattered, they 

vigorously rallied, and fierce fighting erupted almost 

immediately. At one point that same morning, they 

threatened to drive a salient into the paratroopers' 

tenuous foothold on Topside. 

Paratroopers and infantrymen waged a tenacious battle 

with the well dug-in and determined enemy. Private 

Lloyd G. McCarter, a scout attached to the 503rd, during 

the initial landing on 16 February, crossed 30 yards of 

open ground under intense fire and at point-blank range 

silenced a machine gun with hand grenades. On the 

afternoon of 18 February, he killed six Japanese snipers. 

Pvt. McCarter would later be awarded the Medal of 

Honor. 

Battle of Banzai Point 

The most ferocious battle to regain Corregidor occurred 

at Wheeler Point on the night of 18 February and early 

morning of 19 February, when D and F Companies, 2nd 

Battalion, 503rd, settled down in defensive positions 

near Battery Hearn and Cheney Trail, when at 22:30 

under a black, moonless night, 500 suicidal Japanese 

marines came out of the Battery Smith armory and 

charged the American and the Philippine positions. This 

was also the night Pvt. McCarter earned his Medal of 

Honor. 

F Company stopped the frenzied attacks by the 

Japanese trying to break through to the south. Any 

minor breakthrough by the charge would have been 

cut short by the rear echelons. 

Aside from flares fired throughout the night by 

warships laying offshore, the three-hour battle was 

decided only with rifles, automatic weapons and 

the indomitable courage of the 50 paratroopers 

raged against the Japanese Special Landing Force, 

the best among the empire's fighting men. Not all 

men of the company were involved in the fighting 

because of the ensuing confusion. The savage 

encounter ended in failure with more than 250 

Japanese corpses strewn along a 200 yard stretch 

of Cheney Trail. F Company suffered 14 dead and 

15 wounded. This was the last attack of any 

significance by the Japanese on Corregidor. 

Official historians of the 503rd refer to Wheeler 

Point as "Banzai Point". 

By 1 March, the devastated island bastion, with its 

harbor, the finest in the East, was officially opened to 

Allied shipping. Six days later, on 7 March, General 

MacArthur returned to the Island Fortress he had been 

forced to leave three years before. "I see that the old 

flagpole still stands. Have your troops hoist the colors 

to its peak and let no enemy ever again haul it down", he 

said, at the ceremonial raising of the Stars and Stripes. 


Page 19 of 57

Regretfully, 503 rd Trooper Chuck Breit and his wife Dee 

were unable to join us. 


Page 20 of 57

WWII vets tell it like it was 

in the Pacific Islands 

By Tony Geishauser 

Cowboy173 

F 

ive WWII combat paratroopers from the 503d 

RCT jumped in to visit the 173d Abn Bde for their 

reunion in Lexington, KY in June. 

These five vets were tested by combat jumps on 

Corregidor and other Pacific islands. 

Their ages ranged from 17 to 21 in 

1945. They told their stories to Herd 

paratroopers who made their way to 

the Kentucky Theatre on Main Street 

adjacent to where the 173d Abn Bde 

reunion was held. 

The members of the “Greatest 

Generation” who literally saved our 

country from the Japanese and 

Germans were disguised as elderly 

men in their late 80s to 92. One 

trooper needed portable oxygen; 

another a wheelchair and the others 

took measured steps as they visited 

the Brigade during its reunion. 

Dick Adams, Ray Basham, Tony Cicchino, Jim 

Mullaney and Tony Sierra were young and spirited as 

they shared their stories with the 173d paratroopers who 

were present at the theatre. There were no physical 

infirmities as they told their personal stories about recapturing 

the Island of Corregidor from the Japanese, 

allowing General MacArthur to make good on his 

promise to retake the Philippine Islands. 

Each man shared personal combat stories after everyone 

viewed a History Channel film of these and other men 

from the 503d Parachute Infantry of the 503d Reg. 

Combat Team who jumped on Corregidor. Afterward 

each fielded questions from the Vietnam combat vets 

about how the WWII vets dealt with what faced them. 

“What scared you the most?” was one of the first 

questions asked. Quiet spoken Ray Basham, from 

Bolington, Ky said, “Nothing!” He wasn’t bragging. 

He was fighting for his country’s very existence. The 

implication was that the Japanese needed to be scared of 

the 503d paratroopers! 

Jim Mullaney was the only officer on the panel and the 

oldest. The war with the Japanese was really personal 

for him as his brother died in a Japanese prison camp in 

Japan. His brother was on one of the two Japanese 

prisoner ships which successfully evaded the advancing 

Americans retaking the Philippines. 

Dick Adams returned to Corregidor twice since he made 

his combat jump there. He said, “The Rock once again 

is a lush tropical island with beautiful sunsets and 

panoramic views of Bataan.” 

Tony Cicchino was 17 when he joined the Army. He 

reenlisted and was posted to Europe for four years. He 

described his post WWII time as having what we now 

know is PTSD. He received help and is fine today. 

Paratroopers of the 503 rd PIR on-stage at the Kentucky 

Theatre. L-R: Dick Adams, Ray Basham, Tony Cicchino, 

Jim Mullaney & Tony Sierra, ready to share history with 

their fellow paratroopers of what it was like jumping, 

assaulting and otherwise raising hell for the Japanese in 

those Pacific Islands during WWII. 

Tony Sierra, originally from Mexico, was the only non- 

American who fought in the US Army among the panel. 

Shortly after returning from the war, he, his mother and 

his brother were made American citizens. 

All five WWII vets were guests of the 173d Abn Bde. 

In addition to being invited to the reunion, they received 

jackets and certificates of appreciation for taking part in 

the reunion and for their service to our country. 

These five visitors from out of the pages of our history 

books were our fathers and uncles and our mentors who 

showed us how to jump out of airplanes and to win wars 

and to live full, productive and meaningful lives. 

There were about 16 million men who fought in WWII. 

There are fewer than 1.8 million men left. And saddest 

of all, they are leaving us at a rate of 750 each day. 

Yes. The Greatest Generation. 


Page 21 of 57

Cowboy chopper pilot, Tony Geishauser, did another bang-up job 

moderating, including a presentation of filmed footage of the 

503 rd jumping onto the Island of Corregidor, The Rock. 

Tony shares a very close connection to WWII, having lost his father 

at Iwo Jima. 

Trooper Jim Mullaney fought island-to-island. He 

survived the war; sadly, his brother did not. 

Trooper Dick Adams at the mike sharing 

memories. Thanks for them, Dick. 

Trooper Tony Cicchino tells us what it was like 

on those islands so long ago; yet to him and his 

buddies, like yesterday. 

Trooper Tony Sierra earned his citizenship and 

that of his family to the country he loves and 

fought for. 


Page 22 of 57

Following their presentations at the Kentucky Theatre, 503 rd Troopers were surrounded and came under attack 

by Sky Soldiers armed with their gratitude. 

. 

“Thank you Mr. Adams,” she said. “Thank you Mr. Basham,” he said. “Thank you Mr. Cicchino,” he said. 

“Thank you Mr. Mullaney,” she said. “Thank you Mr. Sierra,” he said. 


Page 23 of 57

Trooper Ray Basham with a young man there who was honoring and promoting the 503 rd PIR. 

Jim Mullaney and Tony Sierra talk with Sky Soldiers in background. 

Friends gathering at the theatre. Nancy Adams captured a front-row seat to listen to her 

husband Dick and his buddies talk about those islands. 


Page 24 of 57

Sky Soldiers and friends lining-up to meet the 503 rd Troopers. 


Page 25 of 57

Two old paratroopers share a moment together. Left, Jim Mullaney 503 rd PIR, WWII, and Craig Ford, C/1/503d, Vietnam. 

Meeting at the Kentucky Theatre, built in 1921. 


Page 26 of 57

The Passing Captains 

By Tony Sierra, 503 rd PIR 

Courtesy of the 503 rd Heritage Battalion Website 

Fifty Decembers have passed…many 

of them memorable and as in every 

one’s life many things transpired in 

those periods. Keepsakes of those 

cold months have faded like a newly dipped 

paintbrush rubbed backwards to the first month. 

However, it is that first December standing out as the 

dominant period when my life’s emotions crested. 

Tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick…this was the merest 

sound daring to penetrate the solid wall of silence 

dominating the neighborhood where I was raised. 

Nothing tainted the sky; not a speck of light, not the 

tiniest reflection from the ocean of neon bulbs over 

the city only blocks away. 

Despair and nostalgia slowed me from pressing the 

doorbell, as I walked onto the mat astride my Mama’s 

front step. Standing before the closed door I 

conceded it was fitting the grandfather clock my 

brother sent years ago from Germany seemed to run 

in reverse. After an eternity away, I returned home 

this December seeking to resurrect my youth. Four 

years had passed since last I was here. 

“Dios mio, you are here! Hold me before I drop, no lo 

creo, I cannot believe it is you.” Mama squeezed me 

with all the strength her heart possessed and shed 

tears depressed within her for several years. “Hijo, 

you look so marvelous, like a dream…you make a 

wonderful Captain with all your ribbons and medals.” 

For moments I could say nothing but in the end I said, 

“Mama, I am only a Sergeant but whatever I am does 

not count. Only that I am here is important.” 

The hearts of men come, perhaps rather more often 

than those of women, to steep places down which the 

least touch will cause them to hurl themselves. 

I flopped on a chair, held Mama as close as I could and 

sensed her sobbing against my ribbons and in her 

chest was a vigorous pounding. At the moment all 

the war things were forgotten and I whimpered like a 

baby. I had returned home and only the clock’s weird 

ticking and our wailing disturbed our reverie. 

As fate decreed, life leveled off a few months after 

some of us returned from our wars and others from 

their own pursuits. As time went on the euphoria 

passed with the appropriate celebrations and the 

predictable hangovers. Shortly the days once again 

aligned themselves into old routines and in many 

cases newer forms of them. We were entering an era 

where new Captains were coming forth. Not the 

Captains familiar to me, with the medals, ribbons and 

the silver bars as Mama had misjudged on the night of 

my return, but rather a new breed I thought as 

Captains of a new forward movement. 

In my telling of events of that long past December and 

other forty nine ones following I use the title 

“Captain” generically, I classify my comrades of that 

era strong hearted, visionary and courageous, 

whether they carried the rifle as I did or not. In my 

perception we were all Captains, even if some wore 

metallic rankings, others wore cloth stripes while 

most wore only their common uniform and what their 

soul and heart brought from their naive adolescent 

years. 

Tony, second from right in back row, with his other 

‘Captains’. 

Additionally some in time rose to such high rankings it 

is difficult to believe all this really occurred when 

viewed from my perspective after the passage of so 

many decades. 

Once the national war time adrenaline, which had 

shot so high, returned to normal the race was on to 

do things we never dreamed possible. The country 

sped in all directions with such intensity that hardly 

any one was left behind. And the drivers of these 

movements were the same Captains who had driven 

the war to a tremendous victory; it was incredible that 

many had risen from such humble beginnings. 



Page 27 of 57

And now my Captains became engrossed mainly in 

one thing, to get back step by step, the parts of their 

life lost or destroyed, by friend or foe, and pay 

themselves for everything they had dared and 

endured. As there was a Captain in every town and 

home, they became a portent. Politicians feared or 

wondered at them, planners and new businessmen 

served them and themselves through them. For they 

were the new country, the relentless spirit built in 

those horrible days when so many battles were on, 

never really knowing who was winning, one side or 

the other; they were that spirit that forgets nothing, 

but maintains itself amid all disasters, and necessities. 

For they were perhaps the most concrete expression 

of our country’s instinctive survival in spite of its own 

perversity and ignorance. 

Never in my wildest dream, especially during the 

“foxhole” days did I envision amounting to anything 

more than what my forefathers had been. There was 

honor in their labor, but that is what it was “labor” 

and I together with millions of others anticipated we 

would return to only that. What else could we 

expect? Many as in my case had never completed 

high school. And the entire country was swamped 

with guys like me with the military stars still in our 

eyes never thinking all this would end one day and the 

day approached faster than any of us imagined. 

But subtly, while each of us had been about our “war 

business,” this enterprise itself planted a seed within 

us which was to render a greater service to the 

country and in a special way to our families far 

exceeding the just-past melodrama of the turmoiled 

world. 

As each of us strived to once again return to normal 

affairs we slowly realized whatever we tried, even 

whatever aspirations entered our heads appeared too 

mundane, too far beneath the tremendousness of 

what we had been through. 

This is not to say everyone was of the same 

sentiment. A great number were able to return to the 

exact position and place they had left, almost as if 

they had merely taken off for a long weekend and 

whatever tools they used in their labors had barely 

cooled from the heat of their hands. Looking back 

over this more than fifty years, I would estimate about 

half the men returning, came to the spot they had 

left. Thousands of them married the girls they kissed 

goodbye when they boarded the gangplanks and in 

some cases lived out their lives in the house where 

they were raised and was possibly next door to where 

the girl kissed at the gangplank lived. 

These contented returnees were Captains, in their 

own quiet way. Over the years when we ruminated 

together we conceded life was such that the “quiet 

little man” frequently carried not only his own load 

but often the load of someone above him. We 

deemed successful a mortar barrage, not only for the 

gunner’s accuracy, but due in great part to the guy 

who trudged beside him for miles overloaded almost 

to exhaustion with the ammunition. This was as true 

in civilian life as it was in the military. 

Tony, reflecting on his ‘Captains’ 

In life there rarely is a momentous gain without some 

corresponding return payment. Often at moments it 

seems the payment exceeds the gain. But this is an 

untruth; a crutch for the failure of those unwilling to 

exert their all in search of some gain. These were not 

genuine Captains; not the Captains I speak of…those 

who refused to make this payment. However, in the 

main most of the men remained Captains. 

I remained as close to my own buddies as if we had 

never left the foxholes. I was amazed at how well 

they did. In most cases they succeeded mightily in 

whatever they had attempted. Many were 

entrepreneurs; others advanced up in the professions, 

medicine, education, finance and other endeavors. A 

few wrote books, others managed corporations and 

some even became endeared politicians. 

Not all materially enriched themselves or moved in 

prominent circles but once again in their own quiet 

way like the ammunition carrier, they achieved some 

measure of accomplishment. In time the country 

fleetingly called us “the greatest generation” and for 

a while a certain celebrity status was rendered. 



Page 28 of 57

Books were written, movies were filmed, and 

television embraced the entire enterprise as if they 

had been asleep while all this was happening. 

Nearly every community went on a monument 

building binge, wanting to be first to grand stand with 

showy monuments and soon nearly every park in the 

country had its own WWII veterans’ homage. 

A natural phenomena; likes attract and the Captains 

met from time to time in their own groups, separate, 

but intrinsically joined as cells are in the totality of a 

body. Each told and retold his story. The details 

differed, but the profundity of the experience was all 

the same. That is why they were Captains. 

One infantryman would recount, “Hell, I was a scout 

deep in the jungle in the Pacific. We were there already 

for ten days and it had never quit raining. Everything 

was soaked and all I saw was my second scout. ‘You and 

I are the only two humans in this whole world, we could 

just disappear and no one would ever know what 

happened to us. What the hell are we doing here? 

Where is the Army and where are the Generals?’” 

There was no end to the incredible events; “I was a 

paratrooper and my buddy was impaled on a tree 

stump on a night jump. The trunk ran through his 

entire body, from his nuts to his neck. The medics had 

to cut him in half to remove him.” 

Another said, “I was a submariner when we went into 

Tokyo bay, we sank a big ship. Our other sub was lost, 

my kid brother was a torpedo man on it.” Another 

sobbed when he related, “I was first sergeant of the 

company that scaled the cliffs on Utah Beach. We had 

ninety men in the outfit. Only twenty made it. One 

who did not make it was my brother, he was a squad 

leader.” 

“The plane was on fire, half the fuselage gone, I leaped, 

never jumped a chute before. I was a prisoner for the 

rest of the war. I lasted on potatoes and whatever 

leaves we could scavenge. I cannot tell you how cold it 

was. Even today I have not warmed.” 

The telling went on and on every year at the reunions, 

over his drinks individual Captains’ eyes would 

moisten when stories like these were murmured: 

“The overloaded lead men dropped off the ramp on D 

Day and never came up. The first man clearing land 

mines blew up and I was next. The Indian imprisoned 

for three years working the coal mines of Mongolia and 

hungering for the greasy meat of the rats abiding there. 

‘The ultimate exterminators’” he joshed. “We cleaned 

those tunnels of all its rats”. The tank driver who lost 

two arms when the tank burned out. Over the 

decades of telling they built an encyclopedia not 

believed by most who were not Captains. 

But the interests of Americans are fleeting. The 

moment the Super Bowl ends next year’s teams are 

already in debate. And so as the shadows of age crept 

toward the Captains their status and positions were 

also already in question. 

A man’s pilgrimage through this world is never a 

smooth trip, no matter the road he chooses. It is a 

roller coaster ride, a joining of ups, downs, jerks and 

sudden starts. One can never foretell if the car will 

stop while the ride is on the high or tumble down 

derailed, uncontrolled. The years and their affairs 

subtly ebb so slyly; we are often asleep hardly ever 

waking up to them. 

The years passed and the generation matured. The 

world rotated in its slow ordinary way and we 

counted on gravity and fate to maintain our own 

balance, but even so I still saw my comrades 

flourishing, for in my heart they remained invincible. 

But just as mighty oaks one day must fall and the cliffs 

of Gibraltar must in the end crumble into the sea, so 

did the Captains’ destinies abate. They were aging 

and night was creeping upon them. 

It is money that moves people’s sentiments and 

consciousness. Even if there had been sadness with 

the absence of the Captains, the very nature of the 

war and its requirements had set for those at home a 

tone of living never before seen. However, even amid 

all this splendor, some Captains never became 

involved in all this mishmash. Their hearts were left 

somewhere amongst the explosions. 

But the money, like the adrenaline, could not persist 

forever as a consequence of the war. Nevertheless, 

within several decades affluence had stabilized and 

most people, except the Captains forgot the war and 

its characters. The monuments so enthusiastically 

built stood rusting and fading, collecting dust. Not 

too harshly, imperceptibly, but steadily the Captains 

lost their gloss. 

Great rivers like the Amazon, the Nile, the Rhine and 

others have for centuries hidden their places of birth, 

even today experts are unable to agree where each 

begin… 



Page 29 of 57

…Did they start in some obscure spring, in some 

underground flow from a mountain lake or from a 

collection of insignificant rivulets joined in some 

hidden dale? No one can say for sure. 

Under like circumstances the erosion of the reverence 

to the aging Captains began. No significant politician 

or other personage openly took contrary positions 

concerning them but a doubtful aura, a questionable 

attitude was sensed permeating our society; invading 

the country. Again no one could say for sure where all 

these begin, like the mysterious sources of the rivers. 

The Captains had years ago shown their courage, their 

staying power and their resolve. But nothing can ever 

stop or even slow the spinning of time’s hourly hands. 

So it was taking its toll on the Captains. Those who 

attained higher status were first to realize their down 

turning. They had further to fall. The rest, who in their 

own way had also succeeded but might not have 

reached notoriety, likewise faded, but since they 

suffered only a short fall somehow they acquiesced in 

a milder manner. 

Day by day they abandoned their civilian duties, their 

businesses, their government positions, their jobs with 

the inevitable skimpy golden parachutes and whatever 

else had occupied them since the days of their youthful 

Captaincies. Many of the most hardy hung on longer 

than they should and even if “the spirit was willing, the 

flesh was weak”. But in the end the coming of each 

new moon clearly signaled their time was nearing its 

low point on that uncertain roller coaster that they had 

mounted so many decades ago. 

Once they were looked up to. Folks sought them out, 

to talk of how things were then and to seek advice. 

Children yearned to hear of the Great War. To their 

families they were champions. Their sons and 

daughters embraced them with great gusto not just 

courteous hugs. The grandchildren always rushed to 

find “grandpa”. Aside from all this, there were their 

buddies and the reunions and other gatherings. They 

came in the early years by the hundreds, anxious to 

meet at the “hospitality rooms” and to tell of their 

grown families and other personal things. They came 

to talk of little Jimmy and how he was now a cardiac 

surgeon. They elated to talk of the successes of the 

offsprings, as if that was an armor against the attack of 

age confronting them. 

However, when one or two drinks were consumed 

there was a fading in their delivery. Behind the 

bravado of how well things were going was a dimness. 

Hardly a word was said about them -- The Captains. 

Each year the talks appeared darker. The hint of future 

ventures and plans and projected visits appeared but 

only as cover-ups for the way life was treating them 

now. 

At the homes they had bought with so much sacrifice, 

when functions were held more often than not they 

were politely seated at far ends or even in corners, so 

as not to embarrass affluent guests with their farts and 

their belches; or not to brag too much of their climb of 

Mount Suribachi to visitors unknown to the Captain. It 

was a mere step from the attic where the “crazy aunt” 

had been hidden in the old days. What a blow to the 

Captain who had stormed the beach at Normandy. In 

whispers, it was even talked of confiscating his driver’s 

license. His grandson newly licensed would come 

every three or four days, maybe. And what of the 

remaining Captains? What do they say? 

Recently I stood curbside during an emotional patriotic 

parade. The Marine band, splendid in their uniforms, 

played the Marine Hymn as the unfurled Flag gloriously 

waved in a gentle breeze. I asked another aged 

Captain, older than I, what he felt about all this and 

about his service in the Corps, which I knew had been a 

horrendous experience for him. He wiped a tear from 

his eye and responded, “In spite of the hypocrisy in our 

current society, I’ve had a marvelous life. But my one 

shining moment in all this, one that no one can ever take 

away, were my years in the service. I am so proud of 

having served and even knowing how terrifying it all 

was, I would do it again if I could.” 

And now regularly one of the old paratroopers passes 

on. In the beginning his burial was a patriotic 

revelation, all who heard of him came. Some travelled 

even across the country to hear the nostalgically 

familiar sounding of taps. Every one shed tears. Often 

there was not enough room in the churches. One 

could hear the rattling of the Catholic rosary beads. It 

brought tears to the Captains who memorialized these 

rattlings from their times on the C47 planes and the 

landing barges, decades ago. 

But now, at these demises we are hard pressed to beg 

someone to come to these burials and blow some 

bugle and to ceremonially fold our flag and to render 

some words about one of the disappearing Captains. 

This task should be getting easier, for it won’t be long 

before it will not have to be done. Fifteen hundred 

everyday. The Captains. 


Page 30 of 57

Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial 

& BBQ in Frankfort, KY 

The Reunion Organizing Committee scheduled a 

great outing to the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial in 

Frankfort, KY, which included a salute to the fallen 

from the state. 

Below center is WWII 503 rd trooper Tony Sierra with his 

wife, Elizabeth on his right, surrounded by Sky Soldiers at 

the Frankfort memorial. If you gotta be surrounded, 

being surrounded by Sky Soldiers ain’t a bad thing. 


Page 31 of 57

KY Vietnam Veterans Memorial 

Briefing Outline & Remarks 

By Jerry Cecil 

Friday, 8 June 2012 

Col. Jerry Cecil, C/1/503d, addressing guests at Memorial. 

How the Memorial Came to Be 

Group of Vietnam Veterans (1984-1988) 

When no one else seemed interested in such a project -except 

the veterans and their families. 

Juried selection competition 

Over 10 submissions -- blind appraisal of entrants. 

Helm Roberts’ design unanimously chosen 

Site chosen-donated by state-in perpetuity 

Louisville, Lexington and other cities finally became 

interested -- but Frankfort, the state Capitol -- was the 

correct choice for a state Memorial. 

Design Elements 

An enclosure -- 1962-1975 (the official beginning and 

end dates of US involvement by regular Armed Forces). 

Flagpoles -- area for ceremonies. The two flags -- 

American and KY flag -- that these soldiers knew when 

they served. We recently added the POW/MIA flag -following 

the lead of the National Vietnam Memorial. 

Granite Plaza with Sundial (gnomon). Each hour 

represents a year of Vietnam involvement; the granite is 

from the same Georgia quarry and we have reserved a 

corner of the quarry for future needs of this Memorial. 

Summer and winter solstice lines. 

Ecc. Verses around base. 

Names of fallen inscribed on plaza. 

Names of POWs/MIAs behind gnomon (so the shadow 

would not fall on their names). If/when all POWs/MIAs 

are accounted for -- that stone will be turned over -- only 

stone in the plaza that is polished on both sides -- and 

their names will be inscribed in the proper panel on the 

plaza. 

Place of reflection and remembrance. In 25 years of 

visiting the Memorial, I have never been here when no 

one else was either departing or arriving to visit the 

Memorial. 

How it ‘works’ 

“The genius of Roberts’ design is in the precision put 

into determining the location of each name, which is 

fixed mathematically by the date of casualty, the 

geographic location of the Memorial, the height of the 

gnomon and the physics of solar movement. The 327 cut 

stones were then designed and cut to avoid dividing any 

individual name.” (Christina Noll) 

None of the stones have the same dimensions or 

markings -- so they could not put in another place. 

Although the sundial forms a radial pattern, none could 

be changed because it would throw off the marking and 

engravings, and each one has been calculated for this 

latitude. 

Names are arranged along sunlines (there are 365 sun 

lines and, of course, Leap Year had to accounted for). 

On date of death in Vietnam 

Shadow touches the name on the anniversary of the 

soldier’s death. 

Of the death -- in perpetuity 

What it means 

Their sacrifice is not forgotten (See the 23 flag sets 

arranged around the base of the gnomon? Each flag set 

represents a fellow Sky Soldier from Kentucky who died 

while serving in the 173d Abn Bde (SEP). Their fellow 

soldiers inspired the Memorial and will remain 

sentinels to protect and maintain this spot so that 

future generations can visit and reflect on the 

Meaning of their service. 

Major Brown sings National Anthem. 



Page 32 of 57

3 Stories… 

Warped Gnomon 

After 18 years the Gnomon had warped slightly. This 

was pointed out to Helm Roberts by a boisterous young 

lad during a school visit. Seeking to avoid any further 

disruption, Helm told the boy it must be an “optical 

illusion” and perhaps he was mistaken. But the next 

day, Helm returned to the monument and attached a 

plumb line to the top of the gnomon and checked it 

against his index mark on the plaza. The young 

schoolboy was right! The gnomon had become slightly 

warped through the constant sun, wind, rain, ice, snow, 

freezing and thawing of the seasons. 

In Helm’s ‘engineering mind’, there was only one 

solution -- REPLACE THE GNOMON, which the Board 

members approved. In Helm’s words, “this Memorial is 

either correct or it is not!” This story illustrates the 

importance that we have placed to insure the Memorial 

remains meaningful in its purpose. 

Throughout the day as the shadow of the sundial touches 

individual names, guests are careful not to step on the 

names of our fallen inscribed in the floor of the Memorial. 

Mistakes in Stone Panels 

At other times, we have remade and replaced entire 

panels because of a single mistake or damage to a name 

from the elements. This is obvious when you see the 

range of coloration in the stones before you. For years, a 

couple would faithfully attend our ceremonies to honor 

their son’s name on the Memorial. And for years, 

following the ceremony, they would insist that their 

son’s name was incorrect -- they named him “Jimmy” at 

birth, but he was listed as “James” on the Memorial. So, 

after we ‘finally’ grasped the meaning of this error to the 

parents, we replaced the entire stone to change his entry 

to “Jimmy.” Once again, this Memorial is either 

correct or it is not! 

Helm Roberts’ last project at this Memorial was begun 

shortly before he died -- it is a perhaps, ‘long overdue’ 

recognition of soldiers who, while not perishing in 

battle, may have died as a result of that service. This 

new area with 5 benches will be dedicated on Veterans 

Day in November. 

Finally, a few years ago I asked Helm of all the 

accolades, awards, and recognition he received about the 

Memorial, would he please send me one or two of his 

favorites that sum up the meaning of the Memorial. 

He sent me the following letter written in 2003 by Mrs. 

Gerry Riffe, the sister of CPT Charles F. Swope, whose 

name is on the Memorial: 

“Mr. Roberts, 

I was there on the day and time my brother died and I 

cannot tell you how moved I was when the shadow 

pointed to his name and his name only. I had the 

misconception of how the sundial worked thinking it 

would cover his name along with many others with a 

shadow leading from the base never imagining that it 

would actually point to his name as it did. My day 

wouldn’t be complete without thanking you for helping 

to provide such a memorial to all the men and women 

whose names appear there.” 

Thank you. 

Gary Prisk, Skip Kniley & Danny Day. 

Three buddies at the Memorial….honoring buddies. 


Page 33 of 57 

.

SHADOW OF DEATH 

VIETNAM MEMORIAL 

FRANKFORT, KENTUCKY 

Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Frankfort, KY 

From the floor of the memorial sundial. 

T 

he sundial of the Kentucky Vietnam Memorial is 

designed to cast a shadow on the name of each of 

Kentucky’s fallen heroes on the anniversary 

month and year of their death. 

Like most of the Sky Soldiers attending the 2012 

Reunion in Lexington, I drove over to the Memorial at 

Frankfort and found myself looking at names on the 

granite face of the sundial. I immediately began looking 

for the name of my friend, SSG Glen Rountree, 

A/3/319th, and found his name on the January 1969 ray. 

I first met Glen while setting up a new firebase for A 

Battery in 1968. Just before dark I dug in next to Glen 

and his LT, another southerner, and spent most of the 

night talking to them and listening to the LT’s story 

about how he lost his army gun in Ranger School. I very 

quickly learned that Glen was from Kentucky and 

finding someone from back home there in Vietnam was 

like discovering a lost relative. I would see him many 

more times afterwards and always looked forward to 

talking about current events happening back home in 

Kentucky. 

Glen was a great guy and if God could create a perfect 

Sky Soldier, he would be his first pick as a model. The 

last time I saw Glen was late December 1968, when he 

was staying at battalion headquarters in LZ English, four 

days short waiting on DEROS. Glen’s last duty 

assignment with the 319th was to take a M151 to Qui 

Nhon to pick up a PFC, a nineteen-year-old kid from 

A Battery who had gone AWOL. For some unknown 

reason Glen decided to head back to English when he 

should have spent the night at Qui Nhon. He found 

himself near Bong Son about dusk when he was 

ambushed by VC. 

When we recovered the M151 and brought it back to 

English the top of the PFC’s head was still in the jeep 

and we had to take that part of him to Graves 

Registration to keep his body intact. Glen had the 

soldier handcuffed and sitting in the passenger side of 

the jeep, but Charlie must have thought he was an officer 

as the M151 had two 46's with long antennas and the 

guy caught their first rounds through the windshield. 

Glen had returned fire with the 60, but a round hit the 

ammo can on the mount which broke the link in its belt. 

They finally took him down with a round through his 

hips; he was flown to Okinawa and we thought he'd 

made it but were very heartbroken to learn he had died a 

couple of weeks later from pneumonia. The driver 

escaped with minor injury as he ran to a bridge position 

held by regional forces. The M151 was shot to pieces, 

rounds through the radiator, engine block, rims, tires, 

and in no shape to move on its own. 

All of the artillery guys at English who knew Glen were 

very upset at the fact he was so short and on Highway 1, 

regardless of the reason. After reflecting on the outcome 

I very quickly realized that if it hadn’t been for Glen I 

would have probably been the one going to Qui Nhon to 

retrieve the PFC. 

It is only fitting that Kentucky has such a unique and 

marvelous monument to honor Sky Soldier SSG Glen 

Everette Rountree. 

SSG Roger D. Conley 

H&S/3/319th /173d ABN 

RVN 5/68-5/69 

Glen Everett Rountree 

Staff Sergeant 

A BTRY, 3RD BN, 319TH ARTILLERY 

173 RD ABN BDE, USARV 

Army of the United States 

Williamsburg, Kentucky 

September 4, 1941 to January 13, 1969 

On the Wall at Panel W35 Line 84 


Page 34 of 57

L-R: Pam Geishauser & Elizabeth Sierra on a sunny day 

in Frankfort, KY. 

Memorial in foreground, BBQ in background, under a 

blue Kentucky sky. 

Sky Soldier’s wreath at Memorial. 

David & Terry Davis and Terry Aubrey 


Page 35 of 57

Trooper chowing down at the BBQ. 

Taking 5. 


Page 36 of 57

Reflecting 


Page 37 of 57

The young guns meet the old gun in Frankfort. 

Choppers land at the LZ….wait a minute! 

I got point, follow me! 

Ya had a good home but you left! You’re right!! 

Move out! Take two salt tablets and drive on!! 

Some of America’s finest. 

Honoring, and remembering. If not us, who? 


Page 38 of 57

~ The Old Guard ~ 

Jim Bethea 

We are veterans of the Vietnam War. 

Time is counting the cadence now 

as the years slowly march us into history. 

The battlefields where we screamed and cried 

and bled and died 

settle like falling leaves onto its pages. 

We make our daily pilgrimage to the 

seductive siren on the rocks – 

Our Lady of the Valley of the Shadow – Vietnam. 

She has been our companion for so long now 

that it would be hard to imagine life without her. 

Indeed, we would be like lost children. 

She is the tapestry against which 

all things are compared. 

We measure everything and everyone 

by the yardstick of our experience with her. 

Today she may return us to a mountaintop view of a 

cloud shrouded emerald green valley. 

Tomorrow may bring a visit to the place with the 

dark, blood soaked sand and the 

bits of sticky, drying flesh clinging to the bushes. 

We have that secret place that we retreat to 

when the outside world gets too close. 

It is where we go to deal with hurtful things. 

It is the place where we keep the little 

locked box with the bad things in it. 

There, we are still soldiers…it is our bunker. 

Jim Bethea 

HHC/2/503d, 

173d Airborne, ‘65/66 

~ The Old Guard ~ 

Still soldiers. 


Page 39 of 57

Colonel Jerry Cecil with Mrs. Jackie Roberts, widow of Helm Roberts, designer of the Memorial. 


Page 40 of 57

KENTUCKY VIETNAM VETERANS MEMORIAL 

Frankfort, KY 

Kentucky Sky Soldiers on the KVVM 1 

173d Airborne Brigade (Sep) 

By Date Deceased 

Johnnie E. Rice 21 7 Jul 1965 

Danny R. Ward 19 8 Nov 1965 

Kenneth E. Ducan 21 17 May 1966 

David W. Stewart 19 11 Jun 1966 

Rene C. Lopez 25 12 Jun 1966 

Carlos D. Moore 18 27 Jul 1966 

Louis R. Randall 18 25 Sep 1966 

Bobby L. Hayes 28 6 Feb 1967 

Chester P. Simpson 18 6 Feb 1967 

Waddel Evans 19 11 May 1967 

William C. Turner 21 17 May 1967 

Ervin L. Burns 28 22 Jun 1967 

Frank B. Dunford, III 19 22 Oct 1967 

Clarence Hall 19 20 Nov 1967 

Lawrence D. Greene 25 30 Jan 1968 

Edgar J. Grismer 19 7 Sep 1968 

George C. Rowland, Jr 31 17 Nov 1968 

James Hall 29 1 Jan 1969 

Bobby L. Gentry 19 8 Jul 1969 

Harvey Claude Reynolds 37 22 Oct 1969 

Lawrence O. Washington 28 29 Jan 1970 

Marcus R. Davis 23 4 Apr 1970 

Billy H. Ratliff 20 24 Sep 1970 

Robert D. Kavich 18 22 Nov 1970 

Visit the KVVM website at www.kyvietnammemorial.com 

1 Names taken from scrapbook of Hugh C. “Robbie” Robinson, deceased 2005. 


Page 41 of 57

A solemn moment at Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial, 

lest we forget. 

My wife and I took a roundabout return drive back to the 

Hyatt and literally stumbled on the Kentucky Capitol 

building in Frankfort where we took this snapshot. Ed 

Thanks to these folks for sharing 

their photos with us for this 

newsletter: 

- Terry Aubrey, E/2/503d 

- Jerry Hassler, HHC/Recon/2/503d 

- Jim Gettel, A/2/503d 

- 503 rd Heritage Battalion web site -- Paul 

Whitman webmaster 

- Wambi Cook, A/2/503d 

- Kentucky Vietnam Veterans Memorial 

(KVVM) website -- and Lon Whitson, 

webmaster 

- Tony Geishauser, Cowboys 

- Gary Prisk, C/D/2/503d 

- Craig Ford, C/1/503d 

- Jerry Cecil, C/1/503d 

- Dominick Cacciatore, A/2/503d 

- Dave Milton, A/2/503d 

- Les Fuller, A/2/503d 


Page 42 of 57

~ The Closing Banquet ~ 

Sky Soldiers and friends of Sky Soldiers meet one last time before falling-in again in 2013 in Las Vegas. Seated from left is 

Mary Lea Quick and her dad Jim Mullaney, and fourth & fifth from left are Nancy & Dick Adams, with guests. 

L-R: Tony Cicchino with Elizabeth & Tony Sierra. Operation Corregidor II. 

Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal, WWII 


Page 43 of 57

Mary & Ray Basham. From right, Tony Cicchino & Theresa Poklop and friends. 

Cap Prisk, enlightening the masses, as Roy Scott, Mrs. McFarren and Dinner Guests. 

LTG McFarren look on. 

CSM Earl Rice, formerly of the 173d ABCT, representing the new generation of Sky Soldiers. 

Graham Rollings, 2/503d, in the red tie is telling his new bride, “I used to look like that.” The new bride smiled. 


Page 44 of 57

Alpha 2/503 troopers stopping the hump for C’s. 

The two chaps in the center are Mike “Mr. Te” Thibault and Ron Sedlak of A/2/503d with friends and family. Digger, 

Dogface, Brownjob, Grunt decorates the table. 

Left is Jack & MaryAnn Owens, and to their left are Carole Jim Gettel & Jack Kelley CO A/2/503. Waiting (patiently?) 

& Dominick “Dom” Cacciatore and Frank “Dukes” Dukes. for chow. “No Cap, you can’t have my pound cake & peaches.” 

Officers & Gentlemen The Unwashed 


Page 45 of 57

By Col. Jerry Cecil 

By C/1/503d 

LTG (Ret) Freddy E. McFarren delivered 

an inspiring talk during the closing 

banquet on Saturday evening at the 

reunion. 

~ Freddy E. McFarren, LTG (Ret) ~ 

Featured Speaker at Reunion Banquet 

General McFarren is no stranger to the 

airborne community. He served over 12 years in the 

82nd Airborne and 18th Airborne Corps, from Battery 

Commander to Corps Artillery Commander. As a 

Brigadier General he was the Commandant of Cadets at 

West Point. As a Major General he was the Division 

Commander of the 24th Infantry Division (MECH) at Ft. 

Riley. He retired as the Commanding General of 5th US 

Army at San Antonio. 

General McFarren’s remarks opened with an accounting 

of the historic legacy of the 503rd PIR, giving a nod to 

the Corregidor veterans present, and 

a summary of the Brigade’s legacy 

from Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan. 

As an Airborne trooper himself, he 

derided those ‘armchair critics’ who 

sought to minimize the danger of 

parachuting into combat. He quickly 

reminded the assembled paratroopers 

that when you are preparing for a 

parachute operation and approaching 

the drop zone there is more 

uncertainty and danger than anyone 

can predict. The individual soldier 

must still “jump into the unknown,” 

into a place he knows little about, 

land without injury, and then complete the mission. 

As a veteran of Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, and Desert 

Storm, General McFarren exuded the credibility of a 

soldier that silenced the audience as they listened 

intently. 

General McFarren then shifted his remarks to the theme 

of “taking care of yourself and your buddies,” correctly 

pointing out this reunion gathering was all about the 

unbreakable bonds of friendship, sacrifice, and love for 

one another. 

He said that as we all grow older, we must continue to 

take care of ourselves and look out for our buddies who 

continue to need the comfort, care, and concern of a 

fellow soldier who has “been there and done that.” 

He added, others cannot and will never fathom the depth 

of these bonds that endure between soldiers who fought 

together, bled together, mourned together, and now heal 

together. 

He closed by acknowledging it was a privilege and 

honor to be with the storied 173d Airborne Brigade at 

this reunion and wished the audience well in the future. 

Lieutenant General Freddy E. McFarren, a native of 

Texas, was commissioned a Second Lieutenant and 

awarded a Bachelor of Science degree from the United 

States Military Academy in 1966. He also holds a 

Masters degree in Education from Duke University. 

Prior to his retirement in 2003, he was the Commanding 

General of the Fifth United States Army at Fort Sam 

Houston, Texas. Lieutenant General McFarren also 

commanded the 24th Infantry Division (Mechanized) at 

Fort Riley. Before that, he served as Chief, Office of 

Military Cooperation in Cairo, Egypt. In the 

Pentagon, he served as the Director 

of Training for the Army and was a 

military assistant in the Army 

Secretariat. He was also the 

Commandant of Cadets and a 

Company Tactical Officer at the 

United States Military Academy. 

Twelve years of his career were 

spent at Fort Bragg with various 

units of the XVIII Airborne Corps 

and the 82d Airborne Division. His 

combat service included Vietnam, 

Grenada, Panama, and the first Gulf 

War. In Vietnam he was an advisor 

to a Vietnamese Ranger Battalion. He has been awarded 

the Combat Infantryman Badge, the Master Parachutist 

Badge, the Ranger Tab, two Distinguished Service 

Medals, the Silver Star, five Legions of Merit, four 

Bronze Stars, the Purple Heart, and numerous other 

decorations. 

Lieutenant General McFarren and his wife, Aubrey, 

have two sons: Preston, a Lieutenant Colonel in the 

U.S. Air Force Reserve, and William, a businessman 

in Moscow, Russia. Lieutenant General McFarren 

now serves as a military consultant and lives in 

Spring Branch, Texas. 


Page 46 of 57

Terry Aubrey on left of photo, presents a smiling 173d Airborne Association president, Roy Scott, 

with the “Kentucky Colonel” award on behalf of Kentucky Governor, Steven Beshear. 

Kentucky Colonel is an honorary title bestowed upon individuals by approval of the Governor of Kentucky. It is not a 

military rank. Award of the title requires nomination from an existing colonel. Nominators are expected to consider the 

nominee’s service and contributions to the global community before making a nomination. The sitting governor of the 

Commonwealth of Kentucky bestows the honor of a Colonel’s Commission, by issuance of a certificate. Congratulations 

Colonel Scott! 


Page 47 of 57

Speech by Roy Scott 

President 173d Airborne Brigade Association 

during closing banquet at Lexington Reunion 

9 June 2012 

~ They Were Young Men, and Paratroopers ~ 

They were young men, boys many of them, not unlike us 

a few years ago. They were a mixed bag of Americana, 

coming from the Ozarks of Arkansas, the big cities of 

New York and Chicago, the farmlands of Iowa and 

Kansas, and the sun baked sands of Florida and 

California, and all points in between. They were white 

and brown and black and red, but all were red, white and 

blue. They were Baptists and Catholics and Jews, and 

maybe even an atheist or two until their first foxhole. 

They were buddies. 

Their nation and their world was being threatened and 

attacked by pure evil, and they, like so many before 

them and following them, answered the call to duty. 

But, simply being a soldier wasn’t enough for these guys 

– they each were cut from a different cloth…or was it 

silk? 

Fighting in WWII as a Leg just didn’t fit the character of 

these men, and according to 503rd trooper Ray Basham, 

he liked the Army life but after the War started in Dec. 

1941, he became unhappy with the unit he was assigned 

to because, as he stated, ‘They could not pass on 

inspection’. When the Army requested volunteers for 

the new elite paratrooper units he eagerly volunteered 

and was assigned in July 1941 to the 503rd at Ft. 

Benning, GA for paratrooper training, then off to combat 

in some islands few had ever heard of. 

And it was Airborne All The Way for trooper Tony 

Cicchino, who at the age of 17 completed 5 weeks of 

jump school before heading off to war. Like all young 

men during war, he would quickly age beyond his 

youthful years, leaving behind the young boy on those 

Pacific Islands, and replacing him with a battle proven 

man. 

Young officer, Jim Mullaney, after seeing paratroopers 

in training became more than interested, and wondered if 

he might be good enough to someday be one of them. 

He was. Somehow surviving battles throughout those 

islands, he would later learn his older brother had died in 

a Japanese prison camp. Jim would later remark, “I was 

there until November 1945, and received orders to 

journey home. After several days on Leyte I boarded a 

ship called the ‘Hugh Rodman’ and headed for home 

sweet home. Got there in early December. God Bless 

America.” 

Also joining the Army at 17, was Tony Sierra, perhaps 

born with paratrooper blood running through his veins. 

Tony said, “At Camp Roberts two paratroopers set up 

shop in the cafeteria to recruit new jumpers. When I 

saw them in their dress jump suits and the trimmings, 

mainly the wings, I was instantly sold.” About his 503rd 

buddies Tony added, “As the years have passed my 

fellow Troopers have become my family, and I cannot 

imagine what my life would have been if I had never 

become one of them.” We know the feeling Tony. 

Recalling a return visit to the Island of Corregidor, The 

Rock, trooper Dick Adams poignantly wrote,“The Rock 

once again is a lush tropical island with beautiful 

sunsets and panoramic views of Bataan. But, protruding 

from the carpet of green are the grey stone memories 

that I recall when I think about February, 1945. The 

Mile-Long Barracks, the curved line of the officer’s 

quarters, the buildings at Middleside, Malinta Hill, the 

dock at Bottomside, the road around Malinta Hill 

toward Monkey Point are all lined with memories in 

spite of their green covering. The parade ground is still 

there minus the shell holes, but the golf course is 

unrecognizable…no shell holes or blown-off trees, just 

waist high green. The lighthouse, two water tanks and 

the old white metal flag pole still stand.” When General 

MacArthur returned to Corregidor in March 1945, Dick 

and his buddies were there. 

These men of the 503rd Parachute Infantry Regiment, 

these men of the airborne brotherhood heeded the call of 

their country. They were young men, and paratroopers, 

and we honor them and Bless ‘Em All. 

Dick Ray Tony C. Jim Tony S. 


Page 48 of 57

~ CERTIFICATE OF APPRECIATION ~ 

IN RECOGNITION OF YOUR SERVICE IN THE 

ARMY PARATROOPS 

OF THE 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

DURING COMBAT IN THE PACIFIC THEATRE 

DURING WWII 

Awarded to Paratroopers 

RICHARD ADAMS 

RAYMOND MORRIS BASHAM 

ANTHONY CICCHINO 

JAMES MULLANEY 

TONY SIERRA 

503rd Parachute Infantry Regiment 

On behalf of Sky Soldiers of the 173d Airborne Brigade, 503rd Infantry Regiment, 

we extend our thanks and sincere appreciation of a grateful nation for your 

contribution of honorable service to our country. You served to maintain the 

security of our nation and the world during a critical time in history. You served 

with devotion to duty, commitment to your fellow paratroopers, and in keeping 

with the proud spirit and tradition of the Army Airborne. With our deepest and 

forever lasting gratitude ~ 

Airborne! All The Way! 

Roy Scott Dave Carmon 

President, 173d Abn Bde Assoc. Chairman, 173d Reunion 2012 


Page 49 of 57

Following Roy’s speech and reciting the award, a 

Certificate of Appreciation was presented to each of the 503 rd Troopers. 

Terry Aubrey, E/2/503d presents Certificate of Appreciation to 503 rd Trooper Dick Adams, as Dick’s wife Nancy looks on. 

503 rd Trooper Ray Basham, joined by his bride, Mary, receives Certificate of Appreciation from Terry. 


Page 50 of 57

Terry presents Certificate of Appreciation to 503 rd PIR Trooper Tony Cicchino, accompanied by his friend, Theresa. 

503 rd PIR Trooper Jim Mullaney is presented with Certificate of Appreciation as his daughter, Mary Lea Quick, proudly looks on. 


Page 51 of 57

503 rd PIR Trooper Tony Sierra receives Certificate of Appreciation, joined by his wife, Elizabeth. 

"At a time in their lives when their days and nights should have been filled with innocent adventure, 

love, and the lessons of the workaday world, they were fighting in the most primitive conditions 

possible across the bloodied landscape of France, Belgium, Italy, Austria, and the coral islands of the 

Pacific. They answered the call to save the world from the two most powerful and ruthless military 

machines ever assembled, instruments of conquest in the hands of fascist maniacs. They faced 

great odds and a late start, but they did not protest. They succeeded on every front. They won the 

war; they saved the world. They came home to joyous and short-lived celebrations and immediately 

began the task of rebuilding their lives and the world they wanted. They married in record numbers 

and gave birth to another distinctive generation, the Baby Boomers. A grateful nation made it 

possible for more of them to attend college than any society had ever educated, anywhere. They 

gave the world new science, literature, art, industry, and economic strength unparalleled in the long 

curve of history. As they now reach the twilight of their adventurous and productive lives, they 

remain, for the most part, exceptionally modest. They have so many stories to tell, stories that in 

many cases they have never told before, because in a deep sense they didn't think that what they 

were doing was that special, because everyone else was doing it too.” Tom Brokaw 

The Greatest Generation…..Indeed 

Asiatic-Pacific American Campaign WWII 

Campaign Medal Medal Victory 

WWII WWII Medal 


Page 52 of 57

Jim, Ray, Tony & Dick. 

They were young men, and paratroopers. 

~ Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal ~ 

For service in the US Armed Forces within the 

Asiatic-Pacific Theater of Operations. The 

bronze medal is 1¼ inches in width. On the front 

is a tropical landing scene with a battleship, 

aircraft carrier, submarine and an aircraft in the 

background with landing troops and palm trees 

in the foreground with the words "ASIATIC 

PACIFIC CAMPAIGN" above the scene. On 

the reverse side, an American bald eagle close 

between the dates "1941 - 1945" and the words 

"UNITES STATES OF AMERICA." 


Page 53 of 57

From our 503 rd Guests… 

I want to personally 

thank all the173d Brigade 

and All Skysoldiers for inviting my 

father Raymond Basham, my Mom 

Mary and our family and friends to 

your reunion in Lexington. I find it 

difficult to find the words to express 

how much we all appreciated it and 

enjoyed every moment of the visit. 

My Dad was so moved by all the Trooper Ray 

recognition and honor that you showed 

for the 503rd PRCT. The Brotherhood that all you 

paratroopers share is a treasure. 

I am still trying to steal Mom's 503rd jacket but she has 

it under lock and key! 

I hope we all can meet again someday. It was all great 

thanks to the 173d. 

Airborne...All The Way! 

Gentlemen, 

Sincerely, 

Lin Basham 

SFC (Ret) 

I’m certain you remember the Bob 

Hope song Thanks for the Memories. 

Those words are the best I can think 

of as I write this note. Yes ~ thanks 

for the memories of the Lexington 

gathering. 

503 rd troopers ready 

for the Nazdab blast, 

1945. 

Courtesy of the 503 rd 

Heritage Battalion 

website. 

All of the 173d ~ especially you Trooper Jim 

people ~ are the tops. 

The way all of you treated the 503 WWII guys and their 

families just can't be easily described. I and all the 

others will be forever grateful. 

Thanks for the memories. 

Jim Mullaney 

WWII 503rd PIR 

Jim: 

It is we who thank you and your buddies Dick, Ray, 

TonyC and TonyS and your families who joined us at 

our reunion, and all the troopers of the 503rd, past and 

present. 

With apologies to Bob Hope, Leo Robin & Ralph 

Rainger; for you guys – sung (imagine the voice of Bob 

Hope) to the tune of Thanks for the Memories: 

~ Thanks for the 503 rd Memories ~ 

Thanks for the memories, 

of tower jumping boys, 

chutes instead of toys, 

running ‘round the Benning ground 

it must have been a joy. 

We thank you, so much. 

And thanks for that ocean trip, 

across to distant land, 

with Brothers of a Band, 

with kits on back and ammo packed, 

ready to make a stand. 


Markham Valley was no picnic, 

combat jump one for you, 

but you just hoped to kick nips, 

and you did just that, 

and thanks to you. 

And thanks for the memories, 

of the landing at Ley-te, 

better you than me. 

The Jap attacks you threw them back, 

you brought them to their knees. 


Your time on Negros was fearful, 

you’d had your share of that. 

To fallen buddies a tear-ful, 

but what the heck, 

you went right back. 

And thanks for the memories, 

of low flying in a plane, 

at Corregidor ‘neath your Main, 

of coming down to that Rock’s ground 

and never once complain. 

WE THANK YOU…SO MUCH. 

The original song was sung by Bob Hope with words and 

music by Leo Robin & Ralph Rainger, and arranged by 

Gordon Jenkins. Originally from: The Big Broadcast of 1938. 

If I get sued for writing lyrics to their music, I’m sending them 

to you 503 guys, and All the Way! Ed 


Page 54 of 57

Comments about our WWII 503 rd 

Guest Paratroopers at the 

Lexington Reunion 

~ A Salute from 42 nd ISPD ~ 

I can imagine there are very few of them left but think 

what your group did for them and their families was 

terrific. It makes Tom (a WWII Vet) and I darn glad to 

know you guys and even more so proud to see what you 

did at your reunion. The 42nd IPSD Scout Dog Platoon 

had three vets from WWII but lost them about three 

years ago before our reunions. We still have some of 

them from the Korean era and got to meet two of them 

last year at our reunion. God Bless all of you on what 

you did. 

Jackie (Mom), Tom and Brandy McIntyre 

42 nd ISPD Platoon 

No one appreciates the very special genius of your 

conversations as a dog does. Christopher Morley 

Acquiring a dog may be the only opportunity a human 

ever has to choose a relative. Mordecai Seigal 

~ Just Like Them ~ 

All any of us wanted to do was to be just like them. 

Thanks for sharing, ATFW, 

Marc Thurston 

D/2/503d 

~ Generations Meet ~ 

I'm truly happy those 503 rd troopers got to meet the 

generation after them and the new generation. My sonin-law 

leaves in 2 weeks for a 9 month deployment with 

the Herd. By the way, Gary Prisk’s book? I already 

spotted people I knew and the WO guy with the white 

helmet and Alfred E. Neuman on the back is Gary Bass 

of the Cowboys, he dusted me off that damn hill. Talked 

with him just before Thanksgiving last year after a 44 

year loss in contact. 

Jim Baskin 

B/4/503d 

~ National Guard Update ~ 

Just dropped off the remaining sodas to the Kentucky 

National Guard and got this update. The officer 

assigned to Operation Corregidor II was grumbling 

because he had to buy the drinks and then travel to 

Lexington, be late for kid’s game, etc. When he got to 

the Kentucky Theatre he stayed long enough to hear the 

start of the program. It got his attention and he was one 

of the last to leave. He told everyone at his unit about 

how cool it was to meet these WWII paratroopers and 

hear their stories. “What an event!” he said. 

Terry Aubrey 

E/2/503d 

Note: Bet he was a Leg, but was glad he got a taste of 

the Airborne World. Terry, on behalf of so many, I can't 

thank you enough for all you did with arranging the 

meeting, the welcome reception for the 503rd guys and 

their families, and making them all feel welcomed and 

honored -- all that plus your other reunion chores, and 

always with a smile on your kisser. You deserve a 

medal. You are to feel very proud my brother. It was an 

honor to work with you and the entire reunion crew. Ed 

~ Daughter of a WWII 503 rd Trooper ~ 

We had such a great 

time. I’ve attached a 

picture of dad next to 

the wonderful poster of 

the panel discussion. 

Dad really enjoyed 

every minute of the 

reunion. Thanks so 

much for including him. 

You guys are truly 

members of the “Best Trooper Jim 

Generation” and it was an 

honor getting to spend time with you. 

Mary Lea Quick 

Daughter of 503 rd Trooper, Jim Mullaney 

~ New Friends Were Made ~ 

I really appreciate the invite to the reception for the 

503rd guys and wives. My wife Page and I got to know 

Elizabeth and Tony Sierra, and Nancy and Dick 

Adams as well as we could in five days. But we made a 

special connection with Nancy and Dick. Had dinner 

and lunch with them and of course a drink or two. Dick 

gave me a piece of the canopy he discovered on 

Corregidor. This will be added to my collection and 

framed along with a piece of a canopy Nick Pavone, 

father of Bill Pavone 2/503d who jumped into 

Normandy. In addition I have a piece of then Capt. Tim 

Culpepper's canopy he jumped into northern Iraq along 

with his combat patch. Thanks again for including 

me. Meeting and talking to these men made my reunion 

the best ever. Your brother Paratrooper for life, 

Paul Fisher 

HHC/3/503d 

Note: Paul was kind enough 

to personally present each 

of the 503 rd Troopers with his 

173d/503rd Medallion. Very 

nice of you, Paul. 


Page 55 of 57

He was just a rookie trooper and he surely 

shook with fright. 

He checked off his equipment 

and made sure his pack was tight; 

He had to sit and listen to those awful 

engines roar, 

"You ain't gonna jump no more!" 

Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. 



He ain't gonna jump no more! 

"Is everybody happy?" cried the Sergeant 

looking up. 

Our Hero feebly answered "Yes," and then 

they stood him up; 

He jumped into the icy blast, his static line 

unhooked. 

And he ain't gonna jump no more. 

(CHORUS) 

He counted long, he counted loud, 

he waited for the shock. 

He felt the wind, he felt the cold, 

he felt the awful drop. 

The silk from his reserve spilled out 

and wrapped around his legs. 


(CHORUS) 

The risers swung around his neck, 

connectors cracked his dome. 

Suspension lines were tied in knots 

around his skinny bones. 

The canopy became his shroud; 

he hurtled to the ground. 


(CHORUS) 

~ ~ 

(Our song which wasn’t sung. So, sing it.) 

The days he'd lived and loved and 

laughed kept running through his mind. 

He thought about the girl back home, 

the one he'd left behind. 

He thought about the medic corps 

and wondered what they'd find. 


(CHORUS) 

The ambulance was on the spot, 

the jeeps were running wild. 

The medics jumped and screamed with glee, 

rolled up their sleeves and smiled. 

For it had been a week or more 

since last a 'chute had failed. 


(CHORUS) 

He hit the ground, the sound was "Splat," 

his blood went spurting high. 

His comrades they were heard to say: 

"A hell of a way to die!" 

He lay there rolling round 

in the welter of his gore. 


(CHORUS) 

Airborne….All The Way! 

There was blood upon the risers, 

there were brains upon the chute. 

Intestines were a'dangling from 

his Paratrooper suit. 

He was a mess; they picked him up, 

and poured him from his boots. 


Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die, 



He ain't gonna jump no more! 


Page 56 of 57

And what are reunions….if not to remember. 


Page 57 of 57

The 173d Airborne Brigade Reunion in Lexington - Corregidor

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