BEST FRIEND

[OLDNAVYMCPO]

Every week, my wife and I try to go to the Ft Bliss Rod & Gun Club for an hour or so of shooting. Since we live on the west side of the Franklin Mountains, we drive the Trans-Mtn Hwy to the east side where the range is located. On the east side, as the road makes a curve to the east just before the Archeological and the Border Patrol Museums, there is an arroyo on the north side of Anthony's Nose ( as the butte is called). Going west up that draw is the area that my best buddy and I hunted, camped and explored during our high school years. The area is now closed to the public because of unexploded ordnance.

I can't drive by that area without remembering my best friend, Bill Behan. We were closer than brothers. It was really tough driving by that area today.

After high school, Bill went away to the Military Academy at West Point. I never saw him again. I joined the Navy in 1964. He graduated West Point in the class of 1966. He died in Korea on 05/24/67. I wish I could climb that arroyo and just sit and visit with him. I'm not physically able even if it was permitted. My throat is all constricted and my eyes watery as I type this. I hope he knows that he is on my mind.

 

[PALADIN85020]

I know that area quite well, as we lived on the West side of the Franklins in El Paso for many years. Often used Trans Mountain to get to the other side.

I also have mourned friends from long ago who are no longer on the earth. Not easy to remember.

John

 

[vonn]

Spent most of this last weekend doing that same kind of remembering,not fun but that is why they call it Memorial Day.

 

[Ivan the Butcher]

When one of my wife's uncles came home from WWII he had a lot of catching up to do. 2 of his friends were buried locally and a third was buried at sea. He treated all three the same, he would visit some special place that they hung out at when younger and sometimes share a pint. A sip for him and a splash on the ground for them. He found it very comforting.

My mom showed me her father's grave when were running about one Martin Luther King Day. He died 9 years before I was born, so I never knew him. The Cemetery was right in the middle of my district at work, so about twice a month I would polish his head stone with a cup of his favorite White Castle coffee! I would sit it the shade of the big tree nearby and eat my lunch and wonder what he would do about problems I was having at work. Since we both worked in refrigeration, and many other similar areas, I would have loved his decades earlier opinion! On several problems I had no training on and no idea how to proceed, a solution would pop into my head and it worked. One time an old inspector saw my fix and commented that he hadn't seen a fix of that nature in almost 40 years! I said that would be about right, turned said "Thanks Grandpa" and went on with a real spring in my step.

This doesn't match my theology but it does bring comfort: Those that went on before didn't stop caring about us. Nor we about them.

Ivan

 

[walkin jack]

Seems like I spend more and more time every year grieving for friends that have passed on. I know that this is how the cycle of life works and I try not to dwell on the reality that my time's a comin'. Don't get me wrong, I got a lot more livin' to do but if I don't even get to see the sun come up in the morning, well, I've had a good time, y'all.

It's not how MUCH time we have it's about how we USE the time we're given. And I like the way I'm usin' mine.

 

[the ringo kid]

Ive lost my fair share--murders-accidnets and even suicide. These were some of the first friends I had--and some of the very best too. I miss em all. Last one that died of this group of seven--was one who committed suicide in Dec of 1995. This one hurt the most.

 

[the ringo kid]

I apologise as I forgot one, I lost my friend and coworker, Daniel Nagle--in early Dec 1999. Murdered by a scumbag inmate. It was an "gang status killing" which was the only reason why the ******* did it. You can find Dans info on the officer down site. Among too many others. Dan had three kids and nr 4 was due to be born.

 

[Tom S.]

I had a shocker a few weeks ago. My standard routine is to read the local paper before I go to bed. I figure that way, if I'm in the obits, at least I got in a few more hours. Anyway, I read the obits and there was a name I recognized. It was the same as the father of my very first girlfriend. The obit was very brief with only minor details, but said more info could be found online at a website. Out of curiosity, I logged in and sure enough, it was him. The shocker though was that it said he was preceded in death by his daughter, who, as it turned out, was killed in a car accident just a few years after we graduated from high school! Until then, I never knew, and had occasionally wondered what had happened to her. What a shock to find out she had been dead all these years!

 

[bigwheelzip]

My condolences for your loss.

So many wonderful young people are gone, their brightness and promise dimmed, yet the pain of their loved ones endures.

I saw a touching tribute to your friend, written by his mother. I hope it's OK to share it here.

Second Lieutenant William Edward Behan, Jr


If Bill could supervise the writing of this tribute to him, he would do it with much less verbiage than I, his mother, will. He would simply say that he lived and died doing what he loved—he was a member of the U.S. Army, first as a “Brat” and then as a graduate of West Point. The latter was the culmination of his life’s dream.

In the fall of 1967, I stood in the middle of his high school football field to accept a plaque honoring him as their first outstanding graduate. This was very hard for me to do so soon after his loss, but I was so proud that I was his mother. At that time, I presented his West Point ring to his high school as an inspiration to present and future students to strive, as he did, to accomplish their goals in life.

While standing on that field before the hushed crowd listening to my few words, many things flashed across my memory. How, as an Army “Brat” who was a war baby, he became a camp follower at 5 weeks of age and continued so until he left for West Point at age 18. How, in Germany, he mastered the language at age 3; in Alaska, he mastered going to school and coming home in subzero weather and in the dark at age 9; in Panama, he mastered dodging barracuda slipping through the shark nets at age 13; and many other stateside assignments—most often Ft. Bliss in El Paso, TX, where he felt at home.

He loved to play football, climb mountains, and rummage in caves. His dream came true with his appointment to West Point. I shall long remember my visit with him during Plebe Christmas, as well as the great pride I felt watching him receive his diploma at Michie Stadium 3-1/2 years later. After his airborne training and ranger school, he spent his last Christmas at home. His last words to me as he left for Korea were, “I’ll be home before you know it, Mom.” In 5 months he was home, laid to rest in the Ft. Bliss National Cemetery, just below his beloved Sugar Loaf Mountain. (We later moved him to the West Point Cemetery.) As evidenced by the many letters I have received recounting numerous good deeds done during his short life, to and for people, many which I never knew, he lived and accomplished more in his short 23 years than many of us do in our longer lifetimes. All these memories of you, my son, will live in the hearts of your family and friends forever—we will always love you and miss you.

Your mother

Memorial

2LT William Edward Behan, Jr (1944 - 1967) - Find A Grave Memorial

 

[OLDNAVYMCPO]

I thank you so much for posting this tribute from his mom, Betty. She taught me to drive a car. The photo makes Bill look like a nice guy, very deceiving, he was one tough hombre. We frequently carried machetes, sharpened on the back side. We learned to throw them with some skill. Once as he pulled his from a iron wood tree, it was so buried he had to yank it. On the back swing he slashed my nose almost off, took years for the scar to recede. Once at Zack White, a salt cedar forest on the Rio Grande, he ran a mile down a gravel road, barefooted, carrying me in his arms when I had cut an artery in my foot. We had been wading in an irrigation ditch, miles from any help. He saved my life that day.

He was a horrible shot. He never could grasp the idea of leading the game. Had a habit of shooting rabbits in the hind quarters. Quail he simply missed.

Once as he walked in front of me up a mountain trail, he passed a rock shelf that was head high. He didn't notice that a large rattlesnake was coiled and ready to strike less than a foot from his face. I shot the snake as he struck. Some of the bird shot ricocheted and hit Bill in the face. He turned around really pissed until the snake slid off onto his boots.

We frequently camped for days only taking salt, pepper Bisquick, and bacon. We lived on what game we shot. We knew the location of many springs hidden in the mountains.

I still maintain contact with his younger brother and his wife who is my wife's ex-SIL. Bill's Mom and my parents were close friends in their later years.

 

[bigwheelzip]

What wonderful color you add to the mental picture of your friend. You were both lucky to have those "boys will be boys" days together.

Thanks for honoring us with a glimpse of your friends life.