Another Soldier's Story

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Getting it Right Means Making it Right

This was written in response to a phone call I got from Art Corley, letting me know that Samuel Boyd Jr's headstone had finally been correctly marked to read, 101st ABN Div, which in long form reads, "101st Airborne Division"

For those of you who expressed an interest in the miss-marked headstone of Samuel Boyd Jr., I am happy to report that on this Memorial Day in 2011 when Art Corley visits Samuel's graveside, the headstone will read 101st ABN Div. That was the unit patch that was on his sleeve when he was killed as result of hostile action on June 6th, 1968, and so now after resting silently for more than 42 years the error has been corrected.

Samuel's story probably has never been told and I can only speculate at much of it with the limited information we were able to gather, along with what Art can recall through personal conversations prior to Samuel's death. He was born on July 28th, 1944, in Newark, NJ. He attended Newark Vocational High School and we are not sure whether or not if he graduated. The address he gave as his home of record no longer exists, nor does the street. After much searching and placement of articles in the local newspapers, no family members came forward.

Samuel was drafted into the US Army on Nov 8th, 1967. If you want to do some research, or you have any memory of that time, much of Newark was in flames and what they called race riots were the order of the day in many northern cities of our country. With all this as a backdrop for this young man's beginnings, and his prospect for a future, he finds himself in the US Army and on his way to Vietnam with minimal training and less desire on May 1st 1968. Thirty-five days later he was dead. He, and about 25 other guys like him were the replacements for the casualties my platoon had taken on May 1st. From what I can piece together, Samuel came into country on the 1st of May and got to the unit, A Troop, 2/17th Cav on May 13th. He was killed on June 6th, 1968. The hell of it is that he was in my platoon for 17 days before I was medevaced out on May 30th. I don't have any recollection of him; his name, his face, his physical features, nothing. And, there were others I'm sure who came and went the same way. In a way, Samuel is my Unknown Soldier who I have finally come to know by name.

I want to thank brother Art Corley. I can't recall who found who a few months ago, but from here on out, we found each other. Also, I realize I'm still putting humpty dumpty back together.

One Day Set Aside for those who Gave it All

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.



The name of John McCrae (1872-1918) may seem out of place in the distinguished company of World War I poets, but he is remembered for what is probably the single best-known and popular poem from the war, "In Flanders Fields." He was a Canadian physician and fought on the Western Front in 1914, but was then transferred to the medical corps and assigned to a hospital in France. He died of pneumonia while on active duty in 1918. His volume of poetry, In Flanders Fields and Other Poems, was published in 1919.



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