A letter to Glenn May 2014

I wasn’t there…

I wasn’t there during your school years when you played football, and I ran track

I wasn’t there when you shot your first deer, nor was I present for any of the hunting trips that this city boy would have really loved to have been on. I wasn’t there

I wasn’t there at your wedding,

I wasn’t there when your first child was born

I wasn’t there on any of your work crews in the coal mines or later

I wasn’t there when your first grandchild was born, or your second or your third.

I was there when we jumped out of helicopters together

I was there when we sat in the rain, night after night in ambush operations

I was there when we didn’t have anything to eat for 5 days

I was there when the mosquitoes and leeches were overwhelming

I was there when, after an exceptionally long hump into Fire Base 4-11 and you could hardly walk because of jungle rot on your feet. And when you fell asleep on top of ammo boxes and I looked over and saw flies laying their eggs on your rotting flesh, I was there, and I woke you up and told you to get to the aid station.

I was there when the mail came in and we talked about letters from home.

I was there, December 24, 25 & 26, 1970 when on a 3-day stand down we celebrated Christmas entertained by South Vietnamese singers that made their best efforts to sing songs from home. And their talent was good enough to bring a flood of tears, and I was there. We all refused the opportunity to see Bob Hope entertain the troops because we would rather be with one another drinking Captain Walsh’s booze and I was there.

I was there when snipers took shots at us and we were out in the open or on a jungle trail or who knows where, yet I was there.

I was there many years later when we went to Little Rock for a veteran’s reunion and you, and Danny and I were walking back to the hotel from somewhere. You and Danny starting fussing at one another over some silly little thing, and it took me back to when we were tramping through some jungle and you two were fussing over some silly little thing that 19 year-olds fuss over. In an instant I was taken back to moments I hadn’t remembered in years, and I was there.

And it was a few years ago that we went to visit Danny as he was struggling with his and Pam’s life and death health issues. You were to meet me at the Chicago airport, and we would drive on to Evansville, Indiana. I was standing at the baggage claim with my luggage looking for you when right in front of one another we were barely able to recognize each other after all the aging years and we both laughed, and I was there.

And then one evening we went to dinner at this wonderful place that Danny had picked out for us, and you said a table prayer that moved me to tears and I was there.

We spent time with our good friend, drove back to Chicago while having an enjoyable conversation together and I was there. We talked about fishing in Florida and as things go that never happened, but I was there.

I often tell friends that my two best friends are Glenn Suttles and Danny Barrett and of course of whom they have no idea until I explain briefly. Oh sure, I have friends, I have a lot of friends and some good friends, but Glenn and Danny are right at the top. I suppose that would be difficult for some to understand, but there are those who do understand, and we were there.

I look forward to our get-together in August when you and Danny and I enjoy one another’s company once more, and maybe for one last time.

So here we are almost 44 years after we met, you’re reading this letter and I’m not there. Regardless, one of the most important things about our friendship is that we will both be there at The Feast. So, if I don’t see you after our August get-together, we both know that we’ll be there.

Your buddy, Baldy, Donnie, Don, as good a friend as you’ll ever find.

Seal Beach, California