Burial at Sea by LtCol George Goodson, USMC (Ret)
July 28th, 2009 Posted in The SandGram v1.0*****UPDATE******* I just interviewed LtCol Goodson and will post before Christmas 09 ************UPDATE********
I want to thank Nello Lucchesi for providing the link to this fantastic piece
Publisher: Marine Corps Association
Publication Name: Marine Corps Gazette
Subject: Military and naval science
ISSN: 0025-3170
Year: 2007
http://www.marinecorpsgazette-digital.com/marinecorpsgazette/200709/?pg=63
Burial at Sea” by LtCol George Goodson, USMC (Ret)
In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from time to time, as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most were trivial.
War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has endured it. Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic and was wounded there, Vietnam was my war.
Now 37 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of those days in Cambodia , Laos , and the panhandle of North Vietnam where small teams of Americans and Montangards fought much larger elements of the North Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some exotic, some mundane:
*The smell of Nuc Mam.
*The heat, dust, and humidity.
*The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets.
*Elephants moving silently through the tall grass.
*Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers.
*Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar.
*A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby.
*The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao.
*My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina , Virginia , and Maryland .
It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in Vietnam . Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from Indianapolis to Norfolk , rented a house, enrolled my children in their fifth or sixth new school, and bought a second car.
A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to Little Creek, Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office. Appearance is important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a poster Marine. I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only 30 days before. At 5′9″, I now weighed 128 pounds – 37 pounds below my normal weight. My uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was yellow from malaria medication, and I think I had a twitch or two.
I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked at the nameplate on a Staff Sergeant’s desk and said, “Sergeant Jolly, I’m Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and my Qualification Jacket.”
Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck out his hand; we shook and he asked, “How long were you there, Colonel?” I replied “18 months this time.” Jolly breathed, “Jesus, you must be a slow learner Colonel.” I smiled.
Jolly said, “Colonel, I’ll show you to your office and bring in the Sergeant Major. I said, “No, let’s just go straight to his office.”
Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, “Colonel, the Sergeant Major. He’s been in this G*dd@mn job two years. He’s packed pretty tight. I’m worried about him.” I nodded.
Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major’s office. “Sergeant Major, this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Office. The Sergeant Major stood, extended his hand and said, “Good to see you again, Colonel.” I responded, “Hello Walt, how are you?” Jolly looked at me, raised an eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door.
I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of coffee and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt’s stress was palpable.
Finally, I said, “Walt, what’s the h-ll’s wrong?” He turned his chair, looked out the window and said, “George, you’re going to wish you were back in Nam before you leave here.. I’ve been in the Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for 14 months, and Vietnam for 12 months. Now I come here to bury these kids. I’m putting my letter in. I can’t take it anymore.” I said, “OK Walt. If that’s what you want, I’ll endorse your request for retirement and do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine Corps.”
Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too much suffering. He was used up.
Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications, conducted 28 military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the families of Marines that were severely wounded or missing in action. Most of the details of those casualty notifications have now, thankfully, faded from memory. Four, however, remain.
MY FIRST NOTIFICATION My third or fourth day in Norfolk , I was notified of the death of a 19 year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters Marine Corps. The information detailed:
*Name, rank, and serial number.
*Name, address, and phone number of next of kin.
*Date of and limited details about the Marine’s death.
*Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station.
*A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or closed.
The boy’s family lived over the border in North Carolina , about 60 miles away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state line into North Carolina , I stopped at a small country store / service station / Post Office. I went in to ask directions.
Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small Post Office window. The man held a package. The Storeowner walked up and addressed them by name, “Hello John . Good morning Mrs. Cooper.”
I was stunned. My casualty’s next-of-kin’s name was John Cooper !
I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, “I beg your pardon. Are you Mr. and Mrs. John Copper of (address.)
The father looked at me-I was in uniform – and then, shaking, bent at the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me.
Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I think I caught her before she hit the floor.
The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr. Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I drove them home in my staff car. The storeowner locked the store and followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began arriving.
I returned the storeowner to his business. He thanked me and said, “Mister, I wouldn’t have your job for a million dollars.” I shook his hand and said; “Neither would I.”
I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk . Violating about five Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the door, and sat there all night, alone.
My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death notification.
THE FUNERALS Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals.. I borrowed Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and how to fold the flag.
When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said, “All Marines share in your grief.” I had been instructed to say, “On behalf of a grateful nation.” I didn’t think the nation was grateful, so I didn’t say that.
Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn’t speak. When that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder.
They would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, “I’m so sorry you have this terrible job.” My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over and kissed her.
ANOTHER NOTIFICATION Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young PFC. I drove to his mother’s house. As always, I was in uniform and driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenlythe door flew open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across the yard, screaming “NO! NO! NO! NO!”
I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her up and carried her into the house. Eight or nine neighbors followed. Ten or fifteen later, the father came in followed by ambulance personnel. I have no recollection of leaving.
The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and shook his head sadly.
ANOTHER NOTIFICATION One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant Jolly held the phone up and said, “You’ve got another one, Colonel.” I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes, thanked the officer making the call, I have no idea why, and hung up. Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone Directory that translates telephone numbers into the person’s address and place of employment.
The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my office. I called the Longshoreman’s Union Office and asked for the Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and asked for the father’s schedule.
The Business Manager asked, “Is it his son?” I said nothing. After a moment, he said, in a low voice, “Tom is at home today.” I said, “Don’t call him. I’ll take care of that.” The Business Manager said, “Aye, Aye Sir,” and then explained, “Tom and I were Marines in WWII.”
I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw instantly that she was clueless. I asked, “Is Mr. Smith home?” She smiled pleasantly and responded, “Yes, but he’s eating breakfast now. Can you come back later?” I said, “I’m sorry. It’s important, I need to see him now.”
She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, “Tom, it’s for you.”
A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door. He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said, “Jesus Christ man, he’s only been there three weeks!”
Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth…. I never could do that… and held an imaginary phone to his ear.
Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, “Got it.” and hung up. I had stopped saying “Thank You” long ago.
Jolly, “Where?”
Me, “Eastern Shore of Maryland . The father is a retired Chief Petty Officer. His brother will accompany the body back from Vietnam .”
Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, “This time of day, it’ll take three hours to get there and back. I’ll call the Naval Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I’ll have Captain Tolliver get one of his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief’s home.”
He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father’s door. He opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at parade rest beside the car, and asked, “Which one of my boys was it, Colonel?”
I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office and home phone number and told him to call me, anytime.
He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00PM). “I’ve gone through my boy’s papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you make that happen?” I said, “Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will.”
My wife who had been listening said, “Can you do that?” I told her, “I have no idea. But I’m going to break my ass trying.”
I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation, and asked, “General, can you get me a quick appointment with the Admiral at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters?” General Bowser said,” George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will see you.
I was and the Admiral did.. He said coldly, “How can the Navy help the Marine Corps, Colonel.” I told him the story. He turned to his Chief of Staff and said, “Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?” The Chief of Staff responded with a name.
The Admiral called the ship, “Captain, you’re going to do a burial at sea. You’ll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this mission is completed.”
He hung up, looked at me, and said, “The next time you need a ship, Colonel, call me. You don’t have to sic Al Bowser on my ass.” I responded, “Aye Aye, Sir” and got the h-ll out of his office.
I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and the Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship’s crew for four days.
Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He said, “These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from floating?”
All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the Senior Chief stood and said, “Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the retired guys from World War II hang out.”
They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worst for wear, and said, “It’s simple; we cut four 12″ holes in the outer shell of the casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of the casket. We can handle that, no sweat.”
The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth.
The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed on a catafalque. The Chaplin spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played “Eternal Father Strong to Save.” The casket was raised slightly at the head and it slid into the sea.
The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet. The incoming water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet, stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising from the sinking casket sparkled in the in the sunlight as the casket disappeared from sight forever.
The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, “General, get me the f*ck out of here. I can’t take this sh_t anymore.” I was transferred two weeks later.
I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too much death and too much suffering. I was used up.
Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with me. He waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes, came to attention, saluted, and said, “Well Done, Colonel. Well Done.”
I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor!
That is all
s/f
Tags: Burial at Sea, George Goodson, Lt Col George Goodson USMC (Ret)
50 Responses to “Burial at Sea by LtCol George Goodson, USMC (Ret)”
By John Septer on Jul 29, 2009
I praise God for all who wear the flag of this great country with honor and courage, and feel sorry, for those who don’t understand it. They will know our pride.
John E. Septer I
By 1IDVET on Jul 29, 2009
Dude.
That was a hard read.
Thanks for your service LTC Goodson.
That has to take one hell of a man to do that duty.
By Bob Perrow on Jul 29, 2009
Wow………..tough assignment. I’m so very glad nobody ever had to show up at my door in dress blues.
Bob Perrow
By ian on Jul 30, 2009
I have just come to your blog from “murphy was a grunt” and I have to say that even though I have nevfer served in any of the armed forces for any country, I greatly admire those who do and have done so that we can have the freedoms we now enjoy.
I found this Blog “burial at sea” very well written and very moving. blessings to you and keep up the good writting.
Ian
By Taco Bell on Jul 30, 2009
Gang, this well written piece came from the Marine Corps Times and I have Nello to thank for providing the link to give credit to the right folks. I received it in an email and was moved to tears as I read it and wanted to share it. I wish I could write that well.
Semper Fi,
Taco
By Just John on Aug 1, 2009
Taco,
Thanks for sharing that one; very moving.
I doubt that many folks surf through old issues of the Gazette (except to print out old TDGs), and this one may have been overlooked by many without your posting the link.
By Leta on Aug 2, 2009
I, too, was moved to tears reading this Taco. It reminded me of the book, “Final Salute” by Jim Sheeler. His book chronicles the return of remains of Iraq and Afghanistan war Heroes. The book writes from both the Casualty Notification Officer persepective and that of the families they must notify. It’s not an easy read but one that all should.
Each time I get a DoD notification of a KIA I google that person to find out a little about them. Seems the very least we can do to “know” and HONOR those who give their lives so selflessly for our nation.
By Lawyer with a Gun on Aug 2, 2009
I found your blog by way of “Murphy was a Grunt.”
Thank you for this post. I am still amazed and grateful that many who do not know me would sacrifice so much to protect my family.
By Sammy D on Aug 2, 2009
Thank you for posting this, Taco. Very moving, and a tribute to all who serve and the families who await their return.
BTW You do. (write that well)
By Robert C. on Aug 3, 2009
I, too, have never served in the military, but I truly respect and admire those have served, especially those who served in harm’s way. I can’t begin to imagine the feelings they experience in combat and how they suffer when they lose a comrade-in-arms. Thanks to those who keep us safe and who deserve much more than what the liberal media and their ilk dump on them.
By John Keil on Aug 4, 2009
Gob bless you, Col. Goodson! Thank you for your service, and for shouldering the grief of a nation.
By Gawfer, Squid on Aug 4, 2009
Taco,
I made it by way of our mutual friend, John. Moved to tears, I must thank you for posting this. If only the naive could understand the profound sacrifice all who serve make for the sake of our freedom.
OOYAH! (Squid speak), and OORAH! (Marine speak)
By Gunner on Aug 4, 2009
Semper-Fi Brother.
By `Romolo Garbatini on Aug 4, 2009
I’m a WW II Marine–Okinawa.
I cry a little every day for these men, and the older I get the more I cry each day-and for he people like the Colonel.
By Steve on Aug 4, 2009
I found this story from “Murphy Was A Grunt”.
Thank you for sharing this story. It was a great read.
God Bless.
Steve
By Thomas Whitman on Aug 6, 2009
I was honored and proud to attend one burial at sea in 1987 off the coast of California on an LHA. It is a remarkable experience that combines both sadness and pride. Only in our experience, the casket did not want to cooperate with the intentions of the US Navy. Our gunners finished off the ceremony and the grace of God began.
By Al Langley, CW4 (Ret,) on Aug 6, 2009
Col. Goodson’s memories of VietNam reminded me of mine. Sometimes, sitting on the front porch here at home, all of a sudden I can smell VietNam. No reason, it just happens. I imagine for you guys/gals that spent time in Afghanistan and Iraq you too will experience that if you haven’t already. Thanks to the Col. for his service … much tougher than combat!
P.s. Enjoyed your site.
By Steve Kennedy on Aug 6, 2009
Sir,
God bless you for your duty performance. I stated “performance” because you obviously had the same emotional reaction as a family member as you did what was required. I pray that we that have suffered losses (as we served), and honor their service, are still the majority in this country.
Again, I thank you. I never had a duty as tough as yours in my three combat tours.
By Judy Crausbay Hamilton on Aug 8, 2009
I closed the eyes of many brave soldier in Vietnam, and was ever so grateful I did not have to deliver the message to the parents that their valiant warrior was dead.
Our nation was not grateful, this was painfully true. My prayers are still with the families of those men and women whose names are etched
on a polished black granite Wall in D.C.
God protect our men and women in Afghanistan and Iraq with prayers here that not an official envoy, but soldier and Marine will walk up to the door of their homes; opened by their parents. Persons of my generation who experienced the hell of war, hearts ache with each loss.
Judy Nam Nurse 68-69
By threadbndr on Aug 14, 2009
The mantra that kept me sane during my son’s deployments was “as long as there’s not a Marine at the door, I’m good. No news is good news.”
Sir, thank you for your service and especially for that thankless job. I know that the families did appreciate your presence and assistance, even if they didn’t show it at the time. When my husband died, those first few hours were helped immensely by the presence of his commanding officer, who drove me to a neighboring city to notify his mother.
Karla (mother and mother in law of Marines, widow of a LEO)
By Chris Whitehead on Aug 15, 2009
I’m retired Air Force and served in Viet Nma, at Saigon. The first time I saw a K-Loader bring five pallets to my plane (C-141) to load I had to ask what the “silver boxes” were. One of my crew told me they were KIA. He realized I was not familar with the term. The he said “Killed in Action” When he said that,I could feel the blood drain from my face. He saw my shock and said I turned white as a sheet. I recovered after a few minutes. This sceen was replayed weekly as ore and more of our brave service members left Viet Nam in the least expected manner. Col. Goodson, your duty was extremely hard, but I thank you for your service and dedication. This was a good read, but difficult, as has already been pointed out. Don’t ever be afraid to shed a tear.
By RICHARD M.kELLER on Aug 19, 2009
If possible I would like Lt. Col.Goodson’s email address. I sent to many people and receive his alcolades back I sent to Jim Webb’s daughter and requested she forward article to him
Richard M.Keller
Col. USAF, Ret.
email:rkeller389@aol.com
By RICHARD M.kELLER on Aug 19, 2009
If possible I would like Lt. Col. Goodson’s email address so I can forward alcolades I have after I sent article to friends. I sent to Jim Webb’s daughter and requested she forward to him.
Richard M. Keller
Col.USAF,Ret
email:rkeller389@aol.com
By Pam on Aug 22, 2009
Dear Lt. Col. Goodson,
Words cannot possibly thank you for the “hardest job” anyone would ever be required to do. You did it with compassion, and wisdom. God bless you.
By Jerry Gulledge on Sep 3, 2009
To all service members, their family and friends.
God bless all the fight and ready to fight for our rights and freeom of our nation. You will never stand alone.
Texas A & M Aggies hold “Silver Taps” every 2nd Tuesday of each month to honor and remember all Aggies(and service members) that have fallen the prior month.I know all Aggies (Cadet and non) will always be thankful
By Robert Blackeood on Sep 10, 2009
Col., God only puts special people in really special Jobs. Remember, he to lost his only Son. It is a shame that so many of our Sons and Brothers lost all they had trying to serve and protect a lot of people that were not worthy of calling their name. The shamefull way a lot of people treated our men as they came home from Nam and from other ingagements I hope haunts they till the last breath they take. God BLESS.
By Henry Rhea on Sep 24, 2009
This was sent to me in an email by my brother-in-law, Eddy Johnson, former squid in the Cold War Navy. He and his boat participated in the Cuba blockade. I knew when I read it that it was real. This was no phony tear jerker story you see so much of on the internet. But I wanted to know where it came from, and where I could copy it from to post it on my old unit’s site without all the forwarded >> marks that really break up the flow of something. That search led me here, and to the site of The Marine Corps Gazette.
Thanks, Taco, for posting it here.
And I want to grab the opportunity to thank Judy Crausbay Hamilton, Nam Nurse ‘68-’69, who posted here Aug 8, 2009 too. I never needed the services and attention of any of you wonderful ladies while there, for which I thank God. But I’ve always wanted to thank you all for what you did and for what you endured. It took me a lot of years before I was finally able to figure out why we were there. But I knew all along why you were. You were there for us. Thank you.
By Mr Ranger Joe Shelley on Oct 2, 2009
I haven’t visited your Web Site since the Start of the Global War on Terrorism. It is 1:41 am and this was a great article to close the day with.
God Speed
Mr. Ranger Joe Shelley
By Chad on Nov 12, 2009
Powerful.
By Tony P on Dec 10, 2009
In 2005 the Rocky Mountain News (now defunct) won two Pulitzer Prizes for their “Final Salute”, the story of Major (now Col) Steven Beck’s tour of doing this job. It’s a wonderfully written and photographed story, which along with some other continuation articles, finally published into a book of the same name.
The Rocky’s links aren’t well maintained but the html version of the insert is here:
http://www.rockymountainnews.com/news/2005/nov/11/final-salute/
I suggest you have a box of tissues nearby.
By Taco Bell on Dec 21, 2009
Guys, stand by, I am going to interview LtCol George Goodson and will post it in the next few days.
Merry Christmas and Semper Fi,
Taco
By Sara Baker on Dec 27, 2009
Our military operates efficently only because of the diverse jobs, each of which is vitally important. I have spoken to many servicemen who were willing to be in the midst of the battle, yet were not who felt somewhat ashamed that their job was without the risk. Their jobs were essential to the others, and were due the same honor. This duty, however would require a kind of bravery that can’t be found in a common man, but one of great compassion. Thank you for your willingness to have served in this capacity. To those of you who were visited by these messengers, my condolences and appreciation for the services rendered to a grateful nation.
By Mary Helen on Dec 29, 2009
Dear Lt. Col. Goodson,
I was three years old almost to the day when U.S. troops were sent to Viet Nam, and in high school when the war was nearly ended honorably. At first I didn’t know the word “casualty” meant a person’s death. It sounded … casual to me, so I thought it meant a superficial wound. I do remember my parents’ faces during the casualty counts each evening around suppertime, and later how shamefully our soldiers were treated upon their return by their fellow Americans. But it was when I became a mother that the reality of other mothers’ and fathers’ children being killed in a war, pierced my heart.
Whenever I see a gentleman wearing a baseball cap stating his military service, I shake his hand and thank him for that service. All these men say “You’re welcome.” Some add “That was a long time ago.” I reply that regardless of the war(s) in which they served, it’s what they were willing to do for us and this country that evokes my deep gratitude. I often have the privilege of chatting with them for a few minutes, getting to know them a little, and once again thanking them.
Sometimes they shed tears at the acknowledgement. Those soldiers are always Viet Nam vets.
When you get to Heaven, you’ll have a lot of hands to shake – the sons of all those to whom you brought the hardest news.
Lt. Col. Goodson, thank you for your service.
By Brian Nesta on Jan 8, 2010
I’ve been a Police Officer for almost 28 years, and have had to make many death notifications. Lt. Col. Goodson is among the most eloquent of writers, and properly conveys to his reader the angish of performing this most solemn of duties. At 76, there is no question that he lives every day with Honor, Pride, and loss. I served in our Marine Corps for six years active duty commencing in November, 1969. I may not have realized it then, but they were among the best years of my life and certainly the foundation for whatever success I’ve had in life.
Semper Fidelis!
Lt. Brian Nesta
Toms River (NJ) Police department
By Wayne Myers, USN(Ret) on Jan 9, 2010
I was in during the Vietnam era. But I thank God the Navy sent me to other exotic places like Pensacola, Fl, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba and Norfolk, Va. The rest of my career was spent as an active duty reservist, for which I’m proud, as I performed to the best of my ability. I think of myself as the best Yeoman they ever had. One of the duties of active reservists serving at remote sites, such as Naval & Marine Corps Reserve Center, Jackson, MS we served as poll bearers for military funerals. I was fortunate that I was never the senior guy there who had to hand the folded flag to the next of kin. Thank you, Colonel, for your service. What a great article.
By Elizabeth Lashley on Jan 19, 2010
Thank you Lt.Col Goodson, from a Marine Corp Mother.
By Bob Blair on Jan 19, 2010
Col. Goodson, you have performed the most difficult mission in our country and you did it with all the courage and all the heart of a U.S.Marine. Thank You for your service to our country and God bless you.
A Nam Vet
By TOM ALLABAUGH on Jan 22, 2010
GOD BLESS YOU SIR. AND THE THE USMC.
By Neil Latimer on Jan 30, 2010
Thank you, Col. Goodson. Tough duty, well done, sir. Thank God our nation has men such as you and your fellow Marines.
A 1969-1970 VietNam vet, U.S. Army
By Barbara Cochran on Feb 12, 2010
Thank you for your service. I was on the receiving end of service like yours when my brother lost his life as a member of the Air Force. The men who came to our home were so compassionate and helpful.
By roger elder on Mar 7, 2010
George Goodson’s story is quite touching and sad. The day is coming, soon I pray, that men will no longer learn war, and those who are intent on making war will be destroyed from the earth, never to live again. The creator owns this place…..we don’t…..he makes the rules, we don’t. When humans put their trust in earthling man, the outcome is always bad. Earthling man “cannot even direct his next step!”
By Ralph Winterrowd 2nd on Mar 7, 2010
Few Americans understand and even fewer care unfortunately. Thanks for your service. Really gives pause for the day for this particular difficult duty. This brought tears to my eyes.
By orvet on Mar 9, 2010
Colonel,
While I did not serve under you in the Corps,
you are the kind of officer who inspires the best from his men.
It is my privilege to have served in Vietnam with men of your caliber!
Semper Fi,
Dale
By Roger Moses on Mar 9, 2010
Gentlemen; I never served, went to the Induction Center in Kansas City in 1972, was ready to enlist, the evacuation was getting underway (I think)(been a while). My dad Ralph Moses 26 yrs, five of his brothers and two friends all enlisted in the Army. My moms older brother Lester L. Young (16) & Aaron Young (18, his uncle, older by 2 years) joined the Marines, did boot camp, left for the South Pacific. Another friend Ward William Sullivan was sent to Mindanao as a Scout, US Army. They all were practically kids. They told me numerous stories, I love them all, they went through situations beyond comprehension, Aaron operated a flame thrower, Lester a rifle, My dad was a nurse and cook on the Maetsuycker.
I miss them all, they are all gone in body, still with me in my head.
To all of you who served, I thank you and appreciate what you did to make our lives and country safe. You are all in my prayers. Roger Moses, Hays, Kansas
By Randall Covey on Mar 10, 2010
Jesus Christ.
Col. Goodson, you have my utmost respect.
Semper Fi, Marine.
v/r,
a simple Squid
By Bill Cook on Mar 11, 2010
This story is burned into my memory. Thank you Col. Goodson for your service and for sharing this heartfelt story.
God Bless!
Bill (Biker Bill) Cook
ASA ‘62-’65
NC PGR