20 Sep 2002 Roses are red, Violets are blue. Memories are forever, I miss you. To one of the sweetest people who ever lived, who died for his country... From a very dear friend, Mary. Philip Wade Hunt, Corporal, Army of the United States. Son of James Edgar and Ivalette Frances Mollie Paul Hunt. Brother to Marilyn, Edgar, Roger, and Kenneth Hunt. Married on 24 April 1964 to Ruth Anita Piller Hunt. Father of Connie Sue and Johnnie Wade Hunt. Died of wounds received in action 22 August 1968. Phil was a dear friend and a wonderful person. This editorial was in the paper right after the news was released about Phil's death. I have carried it for 32 years and thought someone else would like to read it. A boy died for me in Dinh Tuong today. I didn't know him and he didn't know me. But he died for me just the same. I learned about it when the six o'clock news cast showed him being carried off the battlefield by his buddies. He was going home at last, but not the way he dreamed of going. I watched the news cast as I ate a good hot meal, in my safe, comfortable home. The news was pretty much as usual, the war in Vietnam. College kids demonstrating against changes in the draft rules. Screaming and mugging for the camera. Teachers out on strike. After dinner I tuned in to a program on which a comedian wise cracks sourly about the way the war was going. And probably got more money than this boy in Dinh Tuong had been paid all the time he was in the service. Then I went to bed free from any fear that the house might be blown up by the enemy. The enemy was busy over in Vietnam. But I couldn't get this boy off my mind. I wondered if he had been frightened - of course he had, who wouldn't be? Had he hated this war as much as I hate it? Probably more. HE WAS IN IT ... But somehow those boys in the thick of it over there seem to understand more clearly than many of us just why they are there and the dreadful alternatives. How had he felt about these characters who are defying the government, calling our leaders murderers? Tearing up their draft cards and pulling down the AMERICAN FLAG? However he had felt HE HAD FOUGHT FOR THAT FLAG UNTIL HE WAS KILLED! It's too late now of course to try to thank this boy for what he did, but it is not too late to thank his buddies for what they are doing... But how do you thank someone for facing death for you? How do you reassure them that as long as men like them are willing to die for freedom, freedom is worth dying for? Even though it be abundantly used by the very ones who disdain to fight for it. So you hope that the boys over there realize that dissent is loud and gets attention. But gratitude is quiet and doesn't make the headlines... A memorial initiated by a friend, Mary Christian maryc_home@yahoo.com

 

29 Dec 2004 REMEMBERED by his niece, Paula Gregory dmitchell@rbfstl.com

 

23 Jun 2005 REMEMBERED by a niece, Loretta Yvonne Piller Hornsby tinkerbelle9@bellsouth.net

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