by Vivian Lawson Hogue

In 2012, I was privileged to be involved in research related to stories from or about Faulkner County World War II veterans. We don’t hear much about these soldiers as many are unable or not present to tell their experiences. Then, as it is now, it was difficult bringing back the scenes and sounds of what was an unknown to most of them. Although some had been part of WWI, most arrived with either city dust, country gravel or barn manure on the soles of their shoes. 

As the men and women or survivors shared stories for publication, I could not help but wonder what was not told. Some veterans share freely; a lot do not. We just have to understand that. For some there are events and hurts and feelings better left covered. Others find feelings-into-words to be cleansing or restorative. As the then-editor of the Faulkner County Historical Society’s journals, I felt the time seemed right to pay attention, listen and record. 

The title of the resulting book was “Time Is of the Essence” because it is. The stories collected by myself and contributor Nancy Breeden Mitchell were told by the veterans themselves either by interview or through private or published papers. The book title became poignant as we learned of the passing of one of the featured veterans prior to publication. 

We pray for peace, but we also read of war in the Biblical end days fought between the Archangel Michael and his angels against Satan and his angels. It would seem, then, that until that event occurs, there will never be a time when the forces of good can relax their grips on their swords. 

Our country has fought in 11 major wars and numerous undeclared wars and “conflicts.” My dad remembered six, and there are five in my own lifetime. History shows our patriots included men, women, boys and sometimes children at or near the front lines. It must have been troubling in 1776 to aim your rifle at your red-coated cousin in the British ranks. It must have been devastating in 1861 to discover your brother was the enemy.

I often wondered what thoughts laid themselves down beside my parents’ pillows at night while their four sons were in uniform. The Army, Air Force and Navy would determine their experiences. The three older sons enlisted following the Korean War’s peace pact in 1953, yet approximately 28,500 U.S. troops remain in South Korea.

Wars never follow a predictable path or outcome, and the Korean “conflict” would soon be followed by nearly 20 years of war with communist North Vietnam from 1955 until 1975. The youngest son would serve as a Navy Flight Surgeon, Carrier Air Group One, on the U.S.S. Franklin D. Roosevelt and U.S.S. John F. Kennedy from 1967 to 1969. I know his duties would be more burdensome than most of us could endure, but one story was told to me by a pilot who came under his care.

Lieutenant Commander F. Bruce Cobi, USN, related this incident: “I was an F-4B (Phantom II) pilot attached to VF-14, Fighter Squadron 14, the ‘Tophatters,’ during the 1967 Mediterranean cruise of the aircraft carrier USS Franklin D. Roosevelt (CVA-42), with Carrier Air Wing One (CVW-1). The Radar Intercept Officer was in the rear seat of my aircraft. He was killed during an accidental ejection from my aircraft during a low-level Fire Power Demonstration off of Athens, Greece, in February 1968. The cause of the ejection was probable mechanical failure of one of the rear canopy shear pins. 

“I was flying wing on another F-4B, and we were asked to make a low level supersonic pass close to the ship. We were accelerating with afterburners lit in a turn toward the final heading. While in the end of the banked turn at about 475 KIAS (knots indicated airspeed), I experienced a loud explosion. Debris was flying around inside the cockpit. I could only see the attitude gyro on the instrument panel. I retarded both throttles to idle, leveled the wings and pulled the nose up into a climb. I thought one or both engines had exploded.

“As the aircraft slowed in speed in the climb, the debris flying in the cockpit began to subside in intensity, and my vision improved. I moved the throttles forward toward full power and was relieved that both engines responded. However, in the rear-view mirror I could see the rear canopy was gone and the rear seat had fired. The high dynamic pressure of the outside air probably pulled out the rear cockpit ejection face curtain.

“The flooding doors had opened and torn apart some of the cockpit insulation containing spun glass. It had entered my eyes and reduced my vision. I leveled off at 10,000 feet and began an easy turn at 250 KIAS. I recovered from the incident, landed back aboard the ship without assistance and immediately proceeded to sick bay. Dr. Noel Lawson, Flight Surgeon, cleansed my eyes of spun glass and cockpit dirt.”

My brother stated that “Cobi’s corneas looked like someone had taken sandpaper to them. I cleaned them, patched them and he stood, ready to continue his career.” 

Every real or behind-the-scenes person in this story illustrates how men and women in the service have a job and not only know their duties, but know that others are depending on them. It is the same for all of us who are only able to stand and be grateful for those who do those duties. As I read and listen, I know that we are depending on those who protect us. Our duty is to support our warriors in peace or war, and they depend on us to be patriots. 

Patriotism is “devoted love, support and defense of one’s country; national loyalty.” We need it now . . . if not sooner.