The reality of war is that everyone gets wounded. Some wounds heal rapidly, but some take a lifetime. Some wounds can be seen. Some wounds are invisible—inside the heart, soul and spirit of the warrior. These unseen wounds are often the most difficult to heal, for they must heal from the inside. The reality is that the wounds of the heart, soul and spirit have a spiritual component. Grateful Americans might laud the war hero but few recognize the unseen war that rages within.
This is a quote from the Naval Special Warfare (SEAL) Chaplain, Lieutenant Wesley Modder, USN, some two years ago. I was taken by the simple truth of his statement and kept the writing. I happened to re-read the sermon a few months ago, and from that a notion sprang to mind.
A notion is just that, a notion—just random cerebral waveforms tickling the sky until someone, or in this case, many someones, step forward to transform that notion into action. My notion was to gather a bunch of veterans from Balboa Naval Hospital, seat them in shiny Porsches, and treat them to a romp through the scenic hill country of San Diego.
Now this notion was certainly not original. PCA/SDR members had organized similar activities and dubbed them Wounded Warrior Tours. But while the club had conducted these in the past, it had not been done in the recent past. It seemed to me the time was ripe.
Socializing the concept with Mike Brown, Ralph Turner and Keith Verlaque, this notion began to take shape and drew interest from other members. Dr. Greg Phillips and Katie Auten volunteered to man the medical team (just in case), and Angela Avitt, Kathy Alnwick, Larry Bevins, Sean Malloy, Victoria McMinn and others offered ideas to make it more enjoyable, more memorable, more grandiose.
It was invigorating to watch the transformation of a notion into a vision and that into a plan, through the selfless efforts of many club members with the same fundamental purpose—to pay tribute to some of our wounded warriors for their service and their sacrifices.
I had only three concerns: would we have enough people to put this plan together, would we have enough drivers, and would we have access to enough wounded warriors?
I’d already seen the swelling ranks of club members anxious to volunteer for such an event. That was no longer a concern. But the wounded warrior riders?
A few calls to the Balboa Naval Hospital connected me with the Armed Services YMCA, a group run by M. Cherri Barnswell. I was introduced to my point of contact for this project, Ms. Alysha Dugo. I was immediately impressed by their devotion to their patients and enthusiastic support for our project.
Alysha invited me to meet with the Marine Corps contingent assigned to the hospital while recovering from their wounds.
On Monday, 3 October, I attended Marine quarters. I was unprepared for what I saw. Nearly one hundred Marines in formation, ram-rod straight, disciplined and conducting themselves …well…like Marines. About thirty-five of them were in wheelchairs, others on prosthetics, and a few on crutches. There were so many of them. They were so young.
When it came my time to speak I covered the basics—a two-hour drive through northeast San Diego in a glimmering Porsche chosen by them from the field of cars available. The romp would be followed by a catered lunch, and then by a tour through the Marine Corps Aviation Museum.
I figured we’d have about fifty sign-ups. Much to my surprise, our offer, as juicy as it sounded, was not the only show in town. There were other events, activities and, diversions offered to these wounded warriors each week, and they actually had the luxury of deciding which to choose. We ended up with eleven riders which included some of the warrior’s wives, a mother and a son.
On a brilliantly clear and cool Sunday morning, 9 October 2011, nearly three dozen Porsches of all models, colors, and descriptions assembled at the Vietnam War Veteran’s Museum. Despite my focus on the pending task, it was difficult not to swoon over the spectacular array of these fine specimens of Zuffenhausen craftsmanship.
While they were each endowed with their own beauty and history, there were several that compelled me to take notice. Jim Binford’s 2007 “I’m on fire” red GT3 was looking mighty racy. (Jim, don’t ever leave your keys in it when I’m around.) Sean Malloy’s checkerboard 914 won’t win any concours but I remain mystified as to how anything so underpowered can go through a course so darn fast. I’m not real big on sedans but the black 2010 Turbo Panamera driven by Daniel Lewis (courtesy of Pioneer Porsche) was a real head-turner and allowed us to keep one of the warriors and his son together. I also caught sight of a 1987 Ford five-liter GT Mustang. Initially I thought somebody looking for the Mustang club gathering must have been lost, and then realized it belonged to Bret McCaughin-Strong, son of Philip Strong. I was told that it is a work-in-progress, and when I heard it crank up, I was hoping it stayed in progress or at least never showed up at our autocross. I have enough competition. We had an extraordinary eye-buffet of 911s, Boxsters, and Caymans too numerous to mention here, but the car that forced me to take two laps around it and wipe the slobber from my shirt was Ted Myrus’s red, 1965 356 “C”. If it were mine, it would be in the garage, up on blocks with burning candles arranged around it. An absolute work of art!
About 0820, Ralph Turner, our tour director, and Mike Brown delivered a safety brief and covered the route and sequence of events.
At 0940, with our wounded warriors safely cocooned into their chosen cars, thirty-plus Porsches joined up in singlefile and struck out east on I-8, tucked in nicely behind Ralph’s very red, 911 GT3, our point car.
Way to the rear of this conga line, well behind Mike Brown, Flight Lead #1, Keith Verlaque, Flight Lead #2, but just ahead of Joel Bowman, taking up the stinger position (last ship in the formation in TACAIR parley), I took an uncomfortable second to last position.
Uncomfortable? As the logistics ground unit, I drove my wife’s Ford Expedition. It was loaded to the gills with wheel chairs, ice chests, water, beach chairs and other equipment you carry but hope you’ll never use.
Ralph kept a steady, comfortable pace. On the interstate and the initial climb on the gentle sweeping roads, it was easy if not enjoyable cruising. As we ventured further north on San Vincente Road to Warnack Road, the slope increased and the turn radius decreased…fine for nimble, high-powered hill-climbers, but not so with an American leviathan. I’d inadvertently and unfortunately made a few people sick while driving in twisty hill country in the past, but at this point I could relate. I was determined not to trombone breakfast on the side of the road so I cowboy’d-up and pressed on.
My wife, Katie, and I have lived in San Diego for fifteen years, and rarely have we taken advantage of the opportunity to cruise the rural hills and countryside beyond the big city. Between hard turns and maintaining my interval, I marveled at the radiant flora and gradient changes. The great northeast may tout their autumn chorus of colors, and rightfully so, but San Diego’s rolling hills and dazzling landscapes deliver their own pristine beauty—all year long.
At 1135, five-minutes off the planned ETA, Ralph led his formation into the parking lot of the Marine Corps Aviation Museum at MCAS Miramar.
Here, thanks to the contribution and enormous generosity of PCA-SDR contributors, we were able to make this experience even more appealing and memorable. Peter Dorey of Magnaflow Exhaust, well known for their consistent support for other PCA-SDR events, distributed thirty T-shirts, enough for all our Marines, their guests, and many other Marines who couldn’t make the tour. And through the magnanimous donation by Mr. Steve Garcia (a ten-year Marine combat veteran) and Mr. Frank Passiglia, president and vice president (respectively) of Patriot General, our wounded warriors and their chauffeurs were treated to a magnificent Mexican style lunch laid out in grand style by the Palms Restaurant.
Following lunch I was anxious to stroll through the forest of magnificent military aircraft.
If you haven’t visited the Flying Leathernecks museum at Marine Corps Air Station, Miramar, you owe it to yourself to make the trip. There is no charge for admission and the collection of historic and current fighters, torpedo, trainer, scout, attack, and adversary aircraft will tantalize the eyes and stir the heart.
At this point, I had a bit of a decision to make. A nostalgic walk through the towering aircraft of yesteryear or getting to know our Marines a little better. It was not a difficult decision.
During the ninety-minute lunch we had the opportunity to speak with and learn more about our Marines. The more I listened, the greater my respect and admiration grew for these young men who so willingly risked their lives to protect our freedom and way of life. As I listened to some of the stories and watched them enjoying the mild autumn day, it occurred to me that not once did I ever hear a word of complaint, a nuance of dissatisfaction or self pity. I sat in high reverence of these men, each carrying an injury—physical, emotional, spiritual, and I was utterly and completely humbled in their presence. The words of Rear Admiral Tarrant in James Michener’s Bridges of Toko Ri came tumbling back to me—“Where do we get such men?”
By one o’clock the crowd began to thin. Drivers independently returned their charges to the hospital. It was my great fortune to drive Lisa, the mother of one of the wounded warriors back to Balboa. She calmly explained that her son, Tommy, lost both legs and part of his left hand during action in Afghanistan. The Commandant of the Marine Corps, General James F. Amos, presented Tommy with his Purple Heart. The Commandant told Tommy if there was anything he could do, all he had to do was ask. Tommy quickly responded, “There is something, General.”
“What is it Sergeant?”
“I want to join-up with my unit, sir. I want to get back into the fight!”
Where do we get such men?
I was surprised, but maybe shouldn’t have been, when I recognized in Lisa the same resolve, steely courage, the same hope, and the same genuine appreciation in her as I sensed in her son.
Some time after the tour, Ralph Turner and I had an opportunity to reflect on the experience. As an Army infantryman, Ralph served during the Vietnam conflict. He, through first hand experience, could gauge the depth of character and the esprit de corps of these young men better than I. I believe he was as humbled by the strength of their spirit and as sobered by their conduct, their courage, and their gratitude as was I.
I think our wounded warriors had an enjoyable and memorable experience. I know they greatly appreciated the efforts of our drivers, the charity extended by our supporters, and the deep and genuine gratitude conveyed by the PCA/SDR drivers.
But no matter how enjoyable their day or great their experience, it will never compare with the supreme satisfaction I took home that day.
I had the opportunity to brief the current Chaplain of Naval Special Warfare Command, Commander Buck Underwood, USN, on our Wounded Warrior Tour. He smiled broadly and said simply, “You guys are doing God’s work!”
