Steven Russell Peck

Warrant Officer
Army of the United States
06 November 1949 - 15 March 1971
Enid, Oklahoma
Panel 04W Line 051


Army Aviator

DFC, Bronze Star (Merit), Purple Heart, Air Medal, Good Conduct, National Defense, Vietnam Service, Vietnam Campaign

The database page for Steven Russell Peck

06 Jun 2007

Steven Russell Peck was our first child and his death in combat broke our hearts. The only thing that pulled us through was our knowledge that he was a Christian and that we would see him again. That and our other two children were the comforts that saw us through.

The knowledge that Steven was doing what he wanted to do and had chosen to do by enlisting gave us strength also. He and his younger brother had played war games all of their youth. They loved Battleship, Strategy, Stalingrad, and all sorts of games which used military strategy as their background. He had won scholarships in his high school and could have gone on to college but he chose instead to enlist before he graduated, finished classes on Thursday, and left for the service on the following week. He said he felt he had a duty to serve his country and would go to college after he got back.

He excelled in his military career, going through Intelligence School, Vietnamese language school, helicopter training, etc. He was good enough that it was suggested that he stay at Fort Bliss and train further helicopter pilots but he refused, saying he didn't feel qualified to train them to fly in combat when he had no actual experience. He wrote us letters while in Vietnam saying that he still felt he was doing the right thing. His many medals tells us that he did his job of flying helicopters in combat well. His family is very proud of his life and proud that he gave his life fighting for the nation he loved.

His favorite poem was "IF" by Rudyard Kipling and his favorite song had lyrics which spoke of 'reaching the unreachable star'. This typified my son and his very life. He is gone but will live on forever in our hearts. Terry, my son, took me to see Steve's name on the Vietnam Memorial in DC just two weeks ago for the fourth time. It is the nearest thing to once again being able to touch my Steve.....

From his mother,
Betty Jo Peck

06 Jun 2007

Steve was much beloved by his family. He was a good boy and man,

I remember when his grandmother bought his first pair of
hard-soled shoes and how he stiffened his legs and cried until
they were removed. He became accustomed to them little by little
and learned to walk in them. After that, there was no holding
him back.

I was 13 when Steve was born. When he was about two years of age
I'd put him on the handlebars of my bike and we'd soar down the
steep hill which began a block above my house. He and I enjoyed
many summer days back then.

Later, when I was a single mother and went out for an evening
Steve babysat my children. He was 16. They thought he was great
so they didn't miss me at all. Little did we know then that we
only had a few more short years with him.

Although his family has missed him all these years since 1971,
we are proud of Steve's service to his country. He is our hero!
His younger brother went on to make a career in the military and
each time he received a promotion, he'd tell his mother that it
was for Steve, too. Our family was never the same after
Steve's death but we have assurance we will see him again in

His Aunt Mary

Mary L. Terry
E-mail address is not available.

A Note from The Virtual Wall

Warrant Officer Steven Peck served with with D Troop, 3/5 Cavalry, at that time operating in Quang Tri Province adjacent to the DMZ. According to the Vietnam Helicopter Pilots' Association database, WO Peck had qualified as an instructor pilot and was giving an in-country checkride to CW2 Richard Rossiter. While flying near the Rockpile north of Cam Lo Peck was hit by .51 caliber gunfire. Although Rossiter brought the aircraft back to base, WO Peck died from his injury.


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

- Rudyard Kipling -


To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go.

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star.

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far.

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause.

And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest.

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star.

From "Man of La Mancha"
Lyrics by Joe Darion
Music by Mitch Leigh
Reproduced under 17 USC �107

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With all respect
Jim Schueckler, former CW2, US Army
Ken Davis, Commander, United States Navy (Ret)
Memorial first published on 06 Jun 2007
Last updated 08/10/2009