Brothers in arms

Veterans pass experiences on to cadets

I recently had the privilege of attending the American Veterans Center Veterans Conference & Honors and National Youth Leadership Summit, an annual three-day gathering held in Washington, D.C.

The conference brought together American veterans from World War II and approximately 500 "cadets," students from 27 different institutions including service academies, military schools and ROTC programs.

The veterans, decorated with our nation's highest honors for military valor, participated in panel discussions with the cadets, imparting their wisdom to today's crop of tomorrow's soldiers. The cadets were selected based upon grades and other merit-based factors.

When the veterans spoke, the cadets listened, soaking up the words of these remarkable heroes. The conference concluded with The Honors, A Salute to American Heroes on the final evening, where my father, the late Doolittle Raider S. Sgt. David J. Thatcher, was recognized. The event also featured patriotic songs and the presentation of awards.

As each award was presented, I was struck by the stories of the recipients, accounts of tremendous courage by not only the recipients but their comrades in the face of difficult situations--both on the battlefield and institutionally.


Col. Charles McGee, an African American and one of the last surviving members of the U.S Army Air Force 99th Pursuit Squadron, better known as the Tuskegee Airmen, received an award for distinguished service during WWII. McGee was born in Cleveland, the son of a minister. Joining the University of Illinois ROTC program in 1939, he jumped at the opportunity to train as a pilot.

When WWII broke out, McGee, like so many other African Americans who wanted to do their part to help America, faced discrimination in a segregated military. Despite this obstacle, the Tuskegee Airmen became one of WWII's most respected fighter squadrons, not losing a single bomber to enemy fire in more than 200 combat missions--a record unmatched by any other fighter group.

By the time McGee began flying combat missions in 1944, the Tuskegee Airmen had earned a reputation as excellent combat pilots and were in high demand to escort the white bomber crews flying B-17s and B-24s. On Aug. 23, 1944, as McGee piloted his P-51C (nicknamed Kitten) on a bombing mission over Czechoslovakia, a German FW-190 streaked through the American bomber formation. Over the radio, McGee was given the order: "Go get him."

McGee broke from the formation and fell in behind the fighter. The enemy pilot was skilled, taking evasive action and diving before racing over a German airfield. But McGee was locked on his target and fired a burst, raking the German plane with bullets before it crashed into the ground--his first confirmed kill.

By the time he was transferred home to serve as an instructor on Nov. 23, 1944, McGee had flown a total of 136 combat missions. He would remain in the Air Force for 30 years, flying additional combat missions in Korean and Vietnam and retiring as a colonel. His three-war total of 409 combat missions is an Air Force record.


James McEachin, also an African American and U.S. Army veteran, received the award for distinguished service during the Korean War. McEachin displayed extraordinary bravery after his patrol was ambushed while on a mission to rescue the body of a fallen comrade, captured and killed the night before.

With fire coming from all directions, the Americans fell one by one. Shot through the thigh, McEachin returned fire while his commander, First Lt. Henry A. Schenk, a 29-year-old white officer who had emigrated from Austria at the age of 6, directed their desperate defense. Determined to assist Schenk, McEachin crawled toward the lieutenant's position before taking a second shot to the gut, as two more men were felled by enemy fire. Schenk was then hit and mortally wounded. Seconds later another blast hit McEachin, rendering him unconscious.

McEachin awoke, lying face up in a nearby creek, the battlefield silent. The severity of his injuries quickly became apparent; he could barely move. Somehow he mustered strength and began crawling toward a patch of reeds. Suddenly the shadow of a man came toward him, a blond American soldier in Army fatigues who had taken refuge in the reeds during the attack. The men had never met, let alone spoken, but the soldier quickly began attending to McEachin's wounds, using his own T-shirt to craft a makeshift tourniquet.

With McEachin half-conscious and unable to walk, the soldier carried him across the countryside and through streams toward safety while evading enemy troops. Reaching a forward aid station, McEachin was placed on a litter and prepped for evacuation. During their goodbyes, McEachin told the man who had saved his life: "I never got your name." The soldier replied: "I never got yours either. Let's just say we're brothers under the skin." McEachin, who never learned the man's identity, received a Silver Star and Purple Heart for his actions and later became an award-winning actor.


Vincent Okamoto, an Asian American and U.S. Army veteran, received the award for distinguished service during the Vietnam War. Okamoto was born Nov. 22, 1943, in the Poston, Ariz., War Relocation Center, an internment camp where American citizens of Japanese descent were held during WWII. Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, more than 120,000 Japanese and Japanese Americans--including Okamoto's family--were forcibly placed in camps to be interned for most of the war.

On Aug. 24, 1968, Okamoto was serving as a lieutenant and member of B Company, Second Battalion, 27th Infantry--dubbed the Wolfhound Battalion--stationed in Southwest Vietnam near the Cambodian border and on the lookout for enemy forces.

Late in the day, the battalion approached a small fire support base and found it reinforced with armored personnel carriers and a tank. Enemy troops were in the area and an attack was imminent. The men were ordered to take positions in bunkers surrounding the base and wait.

Just after 1 a.m., the sky erupted with an intense mortar barrage, followed by rocket-propelled grenades and machine gun fire. North Vietnamese Army Forces were concentrating their attack on a section of the base perimeter, disabling the tank and knocking out a bunker. The section's platoon leader had disappeared and the surviving defenders were perilously low on ammunition. The position was in danger of being overrun.

Recognizing the danger, Okamoto took charge, rounding up five volunteers and crawling through the fire toward the attack. He organized the defense, continually exposing himself to enemy fire. Shortly after he arrived, the machine gunner manning a nearby armored personnel carrier was killed, leaving the men without supporting fire. Though his men pleaded with him not to go as it likely meant certain death, Lt. Okamoto ran to the vehicle and manned its machine gun, raking the gunnery position with return fire. When his gun was knocked out, he ran to another vehicle and then to a third, firing until he ran out of ammunition.

During this final stand, he took a shot to the chest, the bullet stopped only by the M-16 ammunition clips strapped across his chest. Though wounded, he would not be slowed, returning to the front and using hand grenades and his rifle to hold off the attack. His action bought valuable time for air support and reinforcements to arrive.

For his valor, Okamoto, now a Superior Court Judge for Los Angeles County, was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star, the Bronze Star and three Purple Hearts, making him the most highly decorated Japanese American to survive the war in Vietnam. And despite their time in the Japanese internment camp, all seven brothers in the Okamoto family supported their country, serving in the U.S. Armed Forces during WWII, Korea and Vietnam.

There is a lesson for all of us to learn from the actions of these remarkable soldiers and their brothers and sisters who have selflessly given of themselves in various U.S. conflicts. Despite varying skin colors, ethnicities or religions, the members of our Armed Forces and our nation have far more similarities than differences.

As the unknown white soldier who saved the life of African American James McEachin said: Let's just say we're brothers under the skin. As our nation moves forward in the days, months and years ahead, I hope we can all remain cognizant of that.

Jeff Thatcher is a professional communicator and longtime resident of Little Rock.

Editorial on 12/04/2016

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