The afternoon of this past August 10th, was one I will not forget. I spent the afternoon with heroes. These weren’t the typical heroes we see in movies that wear capes and save damsels in distress. These heroes sported “lines of experience” on their faces. Many wore caps or t-shirts that indicated their branch of service to our country. Some had scars we could see; others had scars that will stay buried for a lifetime.

Last October, my students and I were privileged to meet South Dakota’s only living Medal of Honor recipient. (The MOH is the highest honor a person in the military can receive.) Mr. Mike Fitzmaurice and his wife Patty, visited our classroom to speak of his experiences in Vietnam. After that meeting, I knew I needed to share this treasure with the veterans from the Platte area, as well as my dad, Alvin Jonkers of Avon.

Mr. Fitzmaurice was among “his people,” when he and his wife Patty visited with our group at the Platte American Legion. We had approximately twenty other veterans in attendance, all with resumes ranging from World War II (Battle of the Bulge!) to Operation Desert Storm.

I would describe Mr. Fitzmaurice as a “reluctant hero.” He is willing to share his experience in small settings, but prefers one-on-one conversation. Based on past experience, we teamed up to tell his story. And what a story it is.

Mr. Fitzmaurice served with the 101st Airborne Division which was located in South Vietnam at Khe Sanh; their mission was to protect an airstrip for American planes. On March 23, 1971, Specialist Fitzmaurice was just coming off guard duty when the camp came under heavy mortar attack. The Americans quickly realized that North Vietnamese sappers had infiltrated the perimeter of camp and were on a suicide mission.

Mr. Fitzmaurice and another GI ran for cover in a sandbagged fighting area. At that time, two grenades flew into their position, but Mr. Fitzmaurice threw them back. A third one hit the ground beside him; he knew he did not have time to throw it out, so he threw his flak jacket and his body over the grenade.

That blast blinded Mr. Fitzmaurice in his left eye, caused a traumatic brain injury and he suffered numerous shrapnel wounds. He was pretty much blinded from the vast amount of blood that was coming from his face. At that time, this soldier did not figure they were going to make it out, but was determined to go out fighting. And fight he did.

He got to his feet, climbed out of the trench and with his fellow soldiers yelling directions to him (because he couldn’t see!), he opened fire on the sappers. During the fire fight, Mr. Fitzmaurice’s rifle was destroyed by yet another grenade, so he crawled around blindly searching for another weapon.

During this time a North Vietnamese soldier attacked him, and Mr. Fitzmaurice engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the individual. Our hero came out on top, found a weapon and returned to the trench to fight. He refused to be medically evacuated until the fight was done.

Afterwards Mr. Fitzmaurice was hospitalized for thirteen months as doctors attended to the loss of eyesight, the shattering of eardrums and to remove shrapnel that was embedded in his body. Currently, the effects of Agent Orange “that rained down us” are starting to show up through congestive heart failure, diabetes and skin issues.

This story comes largely from eyewitness accounts of that battle. Mr. Fitzmaurice humbly diverts many of the questions about March 23, 1971, with the response of, “I did what I was trained to do” or “I did what any of my comrades would have done.” His wife Patty also adds that, “Mike, doesn’t remember a lot of that day, be it by choice or not, that is his reality.”

It did not take me long to figure out that Mr. Fitzmaurice was not the only hero in the room. There was no bragging involved; it was just an honest conversation among an elite brotherhood. Many nodded and sometimes smirked when terms like “sapper,” “MRE,” or “R and R” were mentioned. I also noticed a certain quietness and resolve as each remembered personal experiences and friends. I sensed a number of reflections were left unsaid, and I’m guessing they will stay that way.

The level of humility was unlike anything I’ve seen. Here are a few snippets heard in different conversations: “I didn’t serve in Vietnam; I was just on an aircraft carrier in the ocean.” “I didn’t have it as bad as so and so; I at least slept on a cot, not the jungle floor each night.” “Foot soldiers’ bodies could compensate for about three months in the jungle. After that your immunity started to break down; infections went from bad to really bad quickly.” “Our number one goal was to save our (rear ends) and those of our buddies. Nothing else mattered at that point.” “We were told by our commanding officers to change out of our uniforms and into street clothes before we hit stateside, so we could avoid the rioters.” And, finally, get this one, “I didn’t have it that bad; I was a replacement troop in the Battle of the Bulge.” What!?

As I reflected on the afternoon, I felt a huge sense of gratitude for the sacrifices these particular men and their families had made for our country. But I also realized this discussion could have been had in any one of many small South Dakota towns. We have heroes walk among us every day. Down in that Avon area, chances are they have last names like Krcil, Cihak, Sternhagen, Jonkers, or Buchholz. That list continues with names like VanGerpen, Voigt, Jones, Hamilton, Wittmeier and numerous others.

Like Mr. Fitzmaurice many of these men could tell a story or two of Vietnam or other wars. Their stories deserve to be heard if for nothing else, to remind us of the sacrifices made for the privileges we enjoy in America. I can’t help but think that government would be run so much more effectively and efficiently if you put these men in charge. Great things would happen, and none of them would care who received the credit.

I’d like to thank my heroes, Mr. Fitzmaurice, his wife Patty and the other veterans, for letting me hang with them for a few hours. It was a pleasure, gentlemen. And if you ask me? Superman and Batman? They’ve got nothing on you.