Like many, my family has a tradition of military service. Ancestors have served in wars from the American Revolution and the War of 1812, to the Civil War. In the 20th century they served in the 1916-17 Mexican Expedition and in World War I. Several uncles served in World War II.
Within my closer family, dad was newly wed and not thrilled to receive his notice of ‘Greetings!’ from President Truman in 1952. He loved to wise crack about spending that first month in an Army hospital. When pressed, his punchline was: “It took ‘em that long to pick the splinters from my backside after dragging me off the porch!” Of course, he served cheerfully, rising to senior NCO overseeing food preparations for support troops not far from combat in Korea.
My own peacetime service began just before the Vietnam War ended. Really, the most serious actions I encountered were the times my pal, West Virginian Randy Allen, and I, raided Ft. Hood’s snack bars.
However, my brother, Billy, experienced an impressive tour of duty. He trained with Special Forces, then served in the Army’s elite 82nd Air- borne Division. His regiment – the 504th Parachute Infantry – boasts a long and proud heritage; and, their 504th Veterans’ Association is among the most active of any military branch. Service in the 82nd took Billy to countless jumps, and training, all over the western hemisphere and overseas. In 1981 his battalion was tapped to aid in security for President Reagan’s first inaugural.
Now, I was involved in security during my own Army tour. I’m proud that no one absconded with the first jeep while I was walking guard posts around Ft. Hood’s motor pools and others in Germany!
At a meeting with fellow veterans recently, Billy discovered something else he had experienced. As his outfit prepared for a training jump at a US base in Panama during 1981, a Panamanian military officer approached a senior US officer, seeking permission for his small unit to participate in a jump with the 82nd. With an official OK, the jump proceeded, and Billy described himself as the last paratrooper to exit the plane.
It was just revealed to those airborne vets that the Panamanian officer was none other than the notorious Manuel Noriega. Indeed, a few months later, then-Panamanian dictator Omar Torrijos died in a plane crash and Noriega was among a military group that seized power.
Noriega was a nominal ‘friend’ of the US at the time. As Noriega sank deeper into crime, interestingly, it was Billy’s old 504th PIR that was among troops sent to bring him to justice in 1989. Famously, the dictator was hounded from his lair through the blasting of loud rock music.
Now, Billy is known for his easy-going manner and counts a long list of friends; he just never seems to meet a stranger. Had he been there, they could have nixed the loud music and sent Billy to the door. Likely, Noriega would have been lured by the winning grin and a few jokes. Billy would have shackled him and, I’m sure, led the grinning dictator away.