Airborne All The Way!

Jack "Jacky" Denton Bixby

10/27/1945-1/2/1966

Born Graceton, Lake of the Woods County, Minnesota

Died Hau Nghia Province, South Vietnam

Remembering my cousin Jacky today.  He impacted my childhood both through his life and death although I only met him a few times.  He is mentioned several times in Church School Blues.

Jacky was real cool. He took Nick and me riding on his motorcycle.. He was a paratrooper whose slogan was "Airborne All The Way!" -- Church School Blues

~~

Mother and I pay close attention to the news when it tells about POWs being returned home, because she still hopes that it wasn't Jacky's body that got shipped back. She has heard stories about the military sometimes shipping back an old boot instead of a body, and that old boot could be anybody's. So as long as there are POWs, Mother is hoping that one of those young men she sees on the news will be the handsome brown-eyed face with the cleft in the chin that we all admired so much. -- Church School Blues

~~

Mother is sobbing. The last time I heard her cry like that was when she got the news that Jacky was killed in Viet Nam. -- Church School Blues

~~

And finally, the famous scene where the history teacher, Mr. Rivera, shouts at the class for having no awareness of the war in Viet Nam, and a kid's response and inner thoughts about the war.

"You folks don't seem to care that there is a war going on!" says Mr. Rivera, and his thick dark eyebrows shoot straight up behind his glasses.

There is some shifting in seats, but suddenly everybody in the room has become a silent kid.

"It's not real to you, is it? And why should it be? It hasn't touched you personally. Let's see a show of hands," he says suddenly. "Has anyone in this room known someone who has been killed in Viet Nam?"

Mr. Rivera thinks this is a safe question since he has known most of these kids for years, taught their older brothers and sisters, knows their families personally. But it hasn't occurred to him that he no longer knows everyone in the room. As I raise my lonely hand, I see Rebecca raise hers also.

"Thank you," he says, his voice going softer. "There are two students in this room for whom the war is very real. For the rest of you, I urge you to pay attention to the news. This country is being torn apart over this war—some strongly believe that it is right to send Americans to fight wars on foreign soil, and others believe just as strongly that we should stand apart from the conflict. At the moment, you don't have an opinion, but as Americans, each one of you should."

I silently agree with him, although even I haven't given much thought to the question of whether the war is right. I know that Jacky wanted to be a paratrooper, and he wanted to do his patriotic duty. Although I don't think of myself as "from the coast" I was close enough to several naval bases in North Carolina that the sight of servicemen hitchhiking was a common one, and I loved the sight of battleships in the Cape Fear River—not because they were killing machines, but because ships are cool. I admire the clever design of military stuff, whether it is a ship or a uniform, a canteen, a compass or a multi-purpose sailor hat.

I could go on and on about all the cool stuff I've seen, having grown up close to naval and air force bases, but there is one image that has impressed itself onto my mind as if my eye were a camera. It's of the sky over some barracks—maybe at Camp LeJeune or even Fort Bragg. I was pretty small, so I'm no longer sure which base it was, but I think the sea was near, so that would make it LeJeune where we visited another cousin who was in the navy. The sky is that certain blue that it only achieves back home where there is so much water, and the flag of our country flies so crisp and clear in its nautical colors of reds, whites, and blues, that a person could just break down and cry for love of America.

So I guess maybe I do have an opinion on whether the war is right. I think that all war is wrong, wrong, wrong, insane and stupid. But I am an American and I believe that we should go where America sends us and defend our flag, even if America is wrong about where our flag is flying at a particular time. Of course that's easy for me to say, since I'm a girl and am in no danger of being drafted in a few years to serve in some war that doesn't have anything to do with freedom. But if I was a boy, I think I'd be a Jacky.

After class is over, Mr. Rivera takes Rebecca and me aside.

"I apologize for asking what I did about losing someone in Viet Nam. I didn't realize anyone in here had been personally affected by the war."

I look at him straight in the eyes. "It's okay."

"May I ask who you lost in the war?"

For some reason, I can talk now and I speak proudly. "My cousin. Jacky Denton Bixby. Airborne All The Way."

Rebecca has lost an uncle in the war. It is something else we have in common, so Rebecca and I start sitting together at lunch, standing near each other at recess. But being silent kids, we don't do a whole lot of talking. -- Church School Blues