Warriors are warriors, and all deserve respect, honor
JERRY AULDS

The World War II B-24 bomber wore a well-earned, forged-in-battle name "The Liberator." Seeing that familiar fuselage rising above the airport tarmac earlier this week in Victoria liberated a barrage of tightly-held memories and images for my father-in-law, retired Austin banker and once-upona time submarine-chasing bombardier Eldon Bebee.

Prayerfully murmuring, "this is fantastic," Mr. Bebee strode among the assembled vintage warplanes pointing out to his eldest daughter Dayle Bebee Aulds - who arranged the side trip to Victoria for her dad and mom, Catherine - the gun turret exactly like the one in which he had once huddled with his bomb sight seeking hints of submerged German submarines in the turbulent, frigid waters of the English Channel.

Mr. Bebee flew missions aboard the U.S. Navy's version of the Liberator, except if was "chock full of stuff to locate and kill U-boats," Bebee fiercely revealed to his wife and daughter.

Like many of his generation, Eldon came home from the war, married, got a banking job, started a family and put the war behind him, seldom talking about his experiences except to fellow veterans. Lately, however, with his grandchildren, the scrapbook has been opened, memory rekindled and revisited. Connections made.

Here in El Campo, there are connections linking Eldon with others of his generation. The late Norris Raun and he shared the bombardier heritage. Mr. Bebee chased subs; Mr. Raun instructed future bombardiers on the then-new and revolutionary Nordin bomb sight.

Then the two of them came home with their sights set on making up for lost time.

In recent days, I see more and more strands binding and bonding Raun and Bebee's generation with a new band of brothers generation. Two weeks ago, I saw Sgt. Greg Stube and his wife featured on a CNN program honoring and applauding the young sergeant and his wife's commitment to each other and to their country, despite the terrible injuries inflicted on Stube in Afghanistan.

You may remember Stube. He was an honored guest and speaker at the Wharton County Chapter 72 Disabled American Veterans' fundraiser. There, Stube commented on the open-handed graciousness extended to him by our community.

Stube first came to El Campo from Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio to hunt. A hunt made possible because an El Campo Vietnam-era veteran, Billy Hodges, vowed that no person wearing the uniform of this country would ever again experience the casual contempt Hodges endured in uniform while attempting to speak to a young lady at a major airport.

Hodges' vow eventually gave rise to the "Hunts for Heroes" organization, founded by Hodges and embraced by so many of our local volunteer firemen.

One more connecting thread.

Two years ago, my sister, Dr. Cheyenne Martin, associate professor of nursing at the University of Texas in Galveston, was invited to speak at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany. Ramstein is where those terribly injured in Iraq and Afghanistan, such as Stube, are flown for care.

Dr. Martin spoke about doctors and nurses in the World War II Resistance and the Holocaust. Her talk was so impressive, she was invited to speak again and also given permission to go on the line and observe the care the wounded are given.

Tina Cuellar, one of Cheyenne's former students, had been instrumental in Cheyenne's invitation to speak.

Last week Cuellar, who is now on the faculty at UTMB, was on hand when my little sister received an award. Tina and Cheyenne now are working together on a joint study examining the performance of nurses and doctors under the extreme stress of war and natural disasters such as Hurricane Katrina.

From Bebee to Hodges to Stube to Cuellar, or as the Texas troubadour and philosopher Willie Nelson sang on his break through The Red-Headed Stranger album, "Phases and stages, circles and cycles, let me tell you some more."