A Memorial Day Remembrance

May 30, 2010

Two years this past May 23^rd, on a Friday evening, my husband and I were returning home from the retirement party of a friend, GBI Special Agent J.W. (J.P.) Foster. As we walked into the house I could hear the end of the prerecorded message of our answering machine conclude, and the next voice I heard was the voice of my stepmother, my father’s wife of over thirty years.� I could not make out the words, but I knew that a late phone call from Mae, could only mean one thing, and I rushed up the stairs in grief, snatching up the receiver to learn that my first hero had died.

It was Memorial Day weekend, and less than two weeks before the anniversary of a day, indeed a war, my Daddy would never forget.

As I shared in the tribute I wrote about Daddy that weekend, he was my first hero, he was my best hero, and he embodied everything good about the human condition, and more importantly, what is the BEST of the American spirit.

Daddy, Lieutenant Colonel, (Retired) Joseph Elford Watson, Sr., was an original member of the 82^nd Airborne Fighting Red Devils out of Ft. Bragg, North Carolina. Daddy jumped on D-Day at Normandy, or, as anyone who has ever seen ‘Saving Private Ryan” knows, as close to the various target as the pilots delivering their cargos of the 82^nd AND the 101^st, (Ft. Campbell, Kentucky), could get their troops.

Daddy would go on to make a second combat jump in the European Theatre of WWII, and two more combat jumps in the Korean Conflict with the 187^th Airborne. It was in that one of those airborne jumps, nearly mortally wounded, he saved man after man, going back into battle to find wounded soldiers, himself having suffered a gun shot to his wrist, which he tied up with a dirty sock.

Dad’s commanding officer had been killed, and this All Army boxer/enlisted man, who had been through court martial and demoted at one time, for decking an officer, now received a Battlefield Commission.

Later, when he finally collapsed at a make shift triage unit, he was dressed properly and given s hot, which is how he learned he was severely allergic to penicillin…he almost died from the shot, not the extreme blood loss.

After returning to the states from Korea, Daddy, who was a gifted sharp shooter, was assigned to the United States Marksmanship Unit at Ft. Dix, New Jersey, and later transferred as an additional unit was started at Ft. Benning, Georgia, where I grew up.

We did not learn until years later, when my siblings and I were all grown with children of our own, (and in my case, grandchildren), that Daddy had actually been with Military Intelligence. What a perfect cover for Dad and his team mates, traveling all over the world to “Pistol” matches and meeting with heads of state to perform sharp shooting skills.

Towards the end of his career, he taught at the Infantry School’s Special Training for army officers from other countries, and lastly he served two back to back tours in Viet Nam, as an Army liaison to the CIA and the South Vietnamese Regular Army, with the Phoenix Operation.

But this amazing man - not just my hero, but hero to many of the men and women who served with him, and to those who called him friend - had heroes of his own.� In the last couple of years before he died, when his health was declining, my step mother had forethought enough to begin to slowly turn over things of our father’s to us. Among the medals, and Dress Blues, Carlisle Academy papers and awards, I also got Daddy’s books and papers, documents he had written. These books and writings revealed who my Daddy’s heroes were.

On this Memorial Day Eve, just ONE week until the June 6^th D-Day remembrance, I would like to share with you a paper my Daddy wrote at Troy State University, about his D-Day Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Robert M. Mathias, who was wounded by flack as he stood in the doorway about to lead his men of the 2^nd� Platoon, Company E, 508^th Parachute Infantry from Camp Mackall, North Carolina, in their first ever combat jump.

In his own words, now, my father’s remembrance of Lt. Mathias:

AN OUTSTANDING LEADER

By Lt. Col. Ret Joseph E. Watson

It was June 7,1944, the day after our parachute drop into Normandy, when I first learned of Lieutenant Robert M. Mathias’ death. I was stricken with grief and a great sense of personal loss came over me. It had occurred to me that some of my buddies and I might not make it, BUT NOT Lieutenant Mathias. I was not prepared for the loss of one whom we all thought was indestructible. In addition to being my leader, in whom I had complete trust, he was my friend and like an older, wiser brother.

Bob’s reddish blonde hair and freckled face, together with his boyish, rugged good looks, gave the impression that he was younger, perhaps 22 or 23, than his actual age of 27.� Bob Mathias, approximately six feet and one inch tall, weighed about 170-175 pounds, had large broad shoulders and was in super physical condition. Bob was not a “Charles Atlas” or a “Flash Gordon” type. His bone and muscle wear all utility rather than show.

Because of his physical powers, many failed to recognize that Bob was highly intelligent. He had mastered every weapon and skill involved in the employment of a rifle company. Additionally, he was knowledgeable of the functions, capabilities and limitation of the supporting arms services.� He was a student of the order of the battle of the German Army and of their tactics. He excelled and schooled� his platoon well in the intricacies of reconnaissance and combat patrolling.

Bob was dedicated to the task of bringing his platoon to a state of training and physical endurance that would enable us to meet and defeat the best the German Army could send against us. Consequently, life in the 2^nd Platoon was not always easy. In training of any type, he always required more of his platoon than was expected of others.� He led, cajoled and drove us to meet his standards, but he drove himself more. He made allowances, but never compromised his standards. He seemed deeply hurt on the few occasions the platoon failed him or failed to meet his expectations. I never knew him to lose his temper; I never knew him to utter a profane word.

When a member of his platoon was troubled by a personal problem, he seemed to sense it. He would discreetly offer his counsel, but he never intruded. From time to time, troopers from other platoons sought him out for counsel or advice. I’m sure the chaplains, had they known, would have appreciated his efforts in their stead.

I always believed Bob to be a man of deep religious convictions, although he never tried to alter the religious orientation of his men. I never knew any officer who was more concerned where the physical and emotional well-being and moral values of his men were involved. On the other hand, Lt. Mathias instilled in his men the will to “deal close and destroy the enemy” by any means available. A deep commitment to God and country is required to resolve in one’s self these conflicting philosophies.

My last recollection of Bob was as we shook hands and wished each other a safe flight and parachute drop. As I turned to my assigned aircraft, Bob said to me, “Get one for Mrs. Smith”. (Smith was the surname of my late stepfather).

I never saw Bob again.

One of the men who jumped from Bob’s plane, gave this account:

“Lt. Mathias was wounded while standing in the door awaiting the green light, by a shell that burst outside the aircraft. When the green light came on, Lt. Mathias half turned to face the stick. You could see the blood on his chest. He raised his right arm in a “Follow Me” gesture, and exited the door”.

How prophetic were the words of Colonel Roy E. Lindquist, (Now Major General Retired), when he remarked, “Lt. Mathias will earn the Medal of Honor or become our first killed in action”.

Why not the Medal of Honor?

When Bob was wounded, he had enough strength and presence of mind to remain in the door until the green light came on. Obviously he was not mortally wounded, albeit seriously. If he had remained aboard the aircraft, the Crew Chief could possibly have rendered first-aid and possibly saved his life. On the ground seriously wounded, not much chance for survival existed. The options were Bob’s and he knew the consequences. He chose the one “above and beyond the call of duty”.

He chose to lead his platoon into combat.

Lt. Col. Retired Joseph E. Watson