A TRUE PATRIOT
Shannon Robinson, Staff Writer
Jim Williams
HM2, Hospital Corpsman, E5
An unassuming man, Jim Williams has led everything but an ordinary life. His father was a Career Officer and a Chaplain in the Air Force in World War II, the Pacific, Korea, and Vietnam. Jim moved all around the world with his family, from Guam to Greece and Turkey, and all across the Southern United States. He had already seen the world by the time he was a teenager and ready to join the military for himself.
Following in his father’s footsteps, Jim joined the Navy in 1966 at the height of the Vietnam War. He felt a sincere obligation to pay back to America with his service. “I just wanted to go and do my part,” he said. Plus, his father always said that “When you come home, you don’t have to go back.”
Jim was supposed to join the Marines Corps with his best friend, Butch Peterson. Butch went on to Vietnam in 1966 and was the first boy from Abilene to make the ultimate sacrifice for the Vietnam War.
From 1966 to -68, Jim completed Navy and Fleet Marine Force Training, becoming a Hospital Corpsman. He attended Basic, Corps school, and Special Warfare, which qualified him as a Combat Corpsman.
Jim recalls 1968 as the worst time in Vietnam. He moved about the country in a combat unit and was involved in some of the largest and longest operations during the war, such as Robin South, Canton II, and Scotland II. Most of the operations were pushing the North Vietnamese out of and away from South Vietnam.
Jim received the Navy Achievement Medal and three Purple Heart medals for his service in Vietnam. You wouldn’t know it unless someone else told you, though. Jim humbly handed me his commendation to read and recalled one of the battles that he was awarded for.
During the Battle of Hill 549, Jim was shot in the back, and the bullet was 1/16th of an inch from severing his spine. Despite this, he continued to apply medical attention to other wounded soldiers until he could be transported out of the area three days later. His bravery on the frontlines and commitment to his unit earned him a purple heart.
Williams returned to the United States in May of 1969. After a week of acclimation and evaluation, he headed to the San Francisco airport on his way back to Dallas. Walking through the airport in his fully decorated uniform, a group of Hari Krishna spotted Jim and started spitting on him, yelling at him, calling him a baby killer. With that kind of “homecoming,” it’s no surprise so many veterans returning from service in Vietnam had a difficult time reintegrating themselves into American culture.
Because he maxed out on Purple Hearts, Jim was put on reserve status. He traveled to different base dispensaries in Dallas, New Orleans, and San Diego, treating soldiers there.
Jim’s journey did not stop here, however. After the military, he went back to school and achieved his Associates degree. In 1973, he was Chief Deputy Officer for the Eastland Police Department. Being a cop gave him the excitement and adrenaline rush similar to what he experienced in the military. In 1976, he was hired as a Dallas police officer, but couldn’t start for one more semester. The DPD encouraged him to go back to school for a little bit.
The same day he went to register for classes at UNT (then North Texas State College), Jim saw a “Now Hiring” sign outside the Denton Police Department. He went inside, and within a day, Jim took the exam early and aced it, had a 10 point Veteran preference, and met the Chief of Police. The Chief of Police got a few references from Eastland and swore Jim in that evening, despite the fact he was already hired by Dallas PD. Without training, without a gun, without any previous planning, Jim served as a Denton Police officer until 1978.
Williams has led an extraordinary life. He was a police officer, a Felony Investigator, and a Background Investigator for security clearances. He was an entrepreneur; he owned Pipe Emporium (a pipe and tobacco shop), Island Divers (a scuba shop), and Finley’s Fashion and Fabrics (a fabric and sewing shop). Jim is even the inspiration behind famous novelist (and old friend) Clive Cussler’s superhuman character hero Dirk Pitt. While Pitt is often compared to the iconic Doc Savage, he’s based off the honest, human character of Jim Williams.
In truth, Jim is an ardent servant to his community. He retired in 2013 and dedicates his life to taking care of his wife. Jim lives his life “constantly reaching after the brass rings” as he says it, and he sees that ambitious legacy continue in his daughters. Anyone who has the pleasure of meeting him will be greeted with a firm handshake, a welcoming smile, and—if you’re lucky—some of the best conversation you can find.
DON’T TELL ME NO!
Shannon Robinson, Staff Writer
Dan Neighbors - Army Specialist, E4
Dan Neighbors
Growing up on a horse ranch just south of Fort Worth, Daniel Neighbors idolized Westerns. He admired the steadfast, quiet, noble Cowboy code of honor. His conservative family didn’t allow TV during the week, but on the Saturday nights he spent at his Grandparents’ house, he soaked up every Western movie he could. Those cowboys are partially what led Dan to join the US Cavalry.
After the terrorist attacks on September 11th, Dan resolved to join the military. A weightlifting shoulder injury and double shoulder surgery prevented him from enlisting immediately, so he spent the next few years working every job he could—bounty hunting, being a body guard and bouncer, and selling motorcycle parts.
After Hurricane Katrina hit in 2006, Dan was offered a security position to go south and guard a wealthy family; however, this was just for his part-time job. When Dan approached the owner of the parts company he worked full-time for and expressed his interest and need for time-off, their one mistake was telling Dan “No,” he couldn’t go. Neighbors accepted the challenge, quit, and found an Army recruiter that same day.
The Texas Army National Guard recruiter, with an impressive video and a persuasive pitch, showed Dan “the coolest shit I’ve ever seen in my life.” The recruit not only got Dan to enlist as an Army Cavalry Scout but convinced him to “get everything done at once” and attend OSUT training at Ft. Knox that came with 6 months of bootcamp. Around October 2006, Dan headed to Kentucky, which was “cold as fuck” and very unforgiving for a cowboy from Texas. He continued on to specialist school, and deployed to Iraq as an E4 Army Specialist.
In 2007, Neighbors deployed during Operation Iraqi Freedom. His first 30 days or so were spent training and acclimating to the upcoming missions. This largely included watching graphic videos day in and day out of what to expect in the field and preparing for the rest of his deployment. He went on maybe a dozen missions before returning to Texas for a brief R&R.
When Dan got back to the US, he was surprised and disappointed that no one seemed to recognize or care about what was going on outside of America. Even his tightknit family he was so close with had moved on through the rhythms of life.
It was one trip to the grocery store that changed his mindset. A woman was griping about the check-out lanes, something so inane and unimportant. It appalled Dan to think that this was the America he was fighting for; these were the freedoms that people were complaining about. This experience, combined with his family’s apathy, switched Dan from a sacrifice mindset to one of survival. When he went back to Iraq, “it was more for me than them.”
When he returned, Dan was the gunner in a route recon team that ran from south of Diwaniya to FOB Scania, right through the hottest zone in Iraq. For his 400-day deployment, they checked the area for IEDs and ambushes, running between the two points to secure it for convoys. They prepared the route and provided extreme security for the traveling convoys.
Despite the intensity in that area of the country, Dan liked the routine. He’d get up, work out, run the mission, come back, work out, sleep, and repeat the cycle. “It was the most settled and chaotic I’ve ever experienced my life. It was awesome. I loved it.”
Neighbors was also included in the aptly named E4 Mafia—the group who was sent to do some of the work NCOs couldn’t. That’s all he could tell me about the crew.
Neighbors remembered one of his last missions, the one that both filled him with hope for the good they were doing and simultaneously destroyed that hope in him forever.
Dan’s wife at the time sent the team a box of teddy bears to hand out to the little kids in the area whenever they went out on recon. There was one “nasty ass bear” that lasted the longest and became a symbol for good luck to the team because as long as that bear was in the truck, the unit had been safe.
During his last mission, they stopped to speak with a sheikh, and a little girl came up to them from a Bedouin tent. “Her dress…looked like sand, her hair was matted, and her skin looked like clay.” Dan knew it was their last mission, so he handed her that last, old bear, and her desert face lit up as if they gave her the world’s greatest treasure. As they moved on, Dan scanned the area and watched her wave goodbye through the scope of his 240 Bravo. At the same moment she was happily waving, the sheikh walked over and slapped her hard to the ground, throwing the bear away. She stood, and her face switched from the sheerest joy to the purest anger and sadness. Dan was furious that she would forever associate a kind act—and the soldiers—with punishment and pain.
Coming home after the war, stoic and grounded, Neighbors moved forward with the façade that nothing bothered him. To Dan, part of the sacrifice is swallowing the experience no matter how hard it is; if you share it with somebody else, then they experience it with you, and it’s no longer your sacrifice. So then, what’s the point of your service? “That’s what patriotism is to me,” Dan solemnly stated.
Neighbors currently works as a Denton Police Officer, seeking to right the wrongs in the city. Every combat veteran has a story to tell, and just a glimpse into Dan’s story shows his commitment to justice and service to an America he believes in. The cowboy code that was instilled in him as a child is still very much ingrained in his fiber as a man. He lives his life with values, patriotism, and a resistance to any threat towards American freedom. Just try telling him “no”—he’ll rise above the challenge and exceed.
WHY NOT?
Shannon Robinson, Staff Writer
Dan Warren
Air Force – E8 Senior Master Sergeant
You find a lot of veterans with a military lineage in their family or an early drive and desire to serve their country. For Dan Warren, a boy from small town Wisconsin, the military was simply a way out. When his friend joined the Air Force as a senior in high school, Warren decided “why not?” and signed up too. Three months after graduation, he went to bootcamp at Lackland Air Force Base.
Warren wasn’t sure where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do in the Air Force, so he went in Open General hoping to figure it out along the way. He was placed in Security Police training and stayed for Security Police Forces training for 6 to 8 weeks after bootcamp in San Antonio had completed. Soon after, he was “selected” to go to Ft. Dixie, NJ for the Army’s basic combat training. His first assignment as a Security Police Officer was 18 months in Miami before he deployed to Panama in May of 1989.
Warren made the rounds on base in Panama for 90 days before being sent back to Florida. “South Florida was… shitty” he said; that’s when he decided to put in an assignment request for World Wide Remote, hoping to go anywhere else.
His first stop was Taegu Airbase in Korea, where he stayed from ’89-’90. At the start of Desert Storm, he went back to Panama City to deploy with his unit; however, by the time he got here, they had already left. So, he was stuck again in the city he hated for about two years, working with the military police, reservists, and National Guard who replaced all the active-duty servicemen and women who deployed.
After the two years, Warren was thrilled when he could finally leave Florida and move to San Vito, Italy. Yet, to his frustration, due to military shut downs, the San Vito base was closed, and Warren had to move back. This time, he received priority assignment, and transferred to Langley Air Force base in ’94. From there, he deployed to Saudi Arabia. By the time he returned home, Warren was an E5 ready for a career change.
He initially wanted to become a dog handler; Warren applied, went through the process, and was told he had too much time in the military to qualify. It was then that Warren’s military journey came full circle; he applied for Combat Arms and had to go back to San Antonio to teach weapons training at Lackland bootcamp.
Warren describes his two years of teaching like one long Groundhog Day; new classes came in and out, the same repetitive courses taught day after day, group after group. He hated the central Texas heat as he spent half his day on the range, running drills.
While he hated San Antonio, it was where Warren met his wife. She pushed him to go through college and get his Bachelor’s degree in Criminology. It was at this point Warren faced a crossroads: he could either try to become an officer or change career paths again. He opted for the latter, changing his path to computer networking.
It was with computer networking that Warren hit his stride. He traveled from his first assignment at Kelly Air Force Base to Saudi Arabia and back to San Antonio, securing top secret buildings and running computer repair crews. Desperately wanting to get out of San Antonio after his third time there, Warren made it to the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. He stayed there for three years, managing the Academy’s servers and routers, frequently busting kids for contraband content.
Warren continued with computer networking until 2009 when he tested for his E9 promotion. Warren recalls sitting at his desk, waiting for his promotion test results. On one screen, was the pending results page. On the other screen, his retirement paperwork was ready to submit. When his test results came in 30 points under the cut-off score, Warren eagerly switched screens and submitted his retirement.
Dan looked into teaching Jr. ROTC after retirement. His wife is a teacher, and his friend taught it; so, as is his way, Dan said “why not?” again and looked for ROTC vacancies. The only vacancy in Texas was at Robert E. Lee High School in Midland. Dan scored the job immediately because he was the only applicant—no one wanted to move to Midland.
He stayed in Midland for five years before a vacancy came up at Ryan High School in Denton in 2014. Warren currently runs the ROTC program there.
Among his accomplishments with the Air Force, Warren also achieved his Master’s in Criminology. He remarks that the military gave him some much-needed maturity and leadership ability. He especially looks at his time with the Military Police as what taught him to be assertive; it’s what taught him to confront and handle uncomfortable or dangerous situations with effective force.
For a man who entered the military with zero knowledge, an open mind, and easy-going attitude, Dan Warren certainly traveled everywhere he could with the Air Force. He took every opportunity he could to move, grow, and succeed. Now, he works to transfer the same quality of excellence and pride that he gained from the military to the kids he trains.
‘A PROMISE MADE, A PROMISE KEPT’
Shannon Robinson, Staff Writer
Daniel Jacob Perez
US Marines, Sergeant E5
On September 11, 2001, standing on the field in the middle of football practice, 14-year-old Danny Perez was informed about the terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers in New York and The Pentagon. Bolstered by a sense of duty, that afternoon, this 14-year-old kid went to the recruiting offices of the Army, Airforce, and Marine Corps.
Perez walked into each office, declaring he was ready to sign up! Obviously, he wasn’t taken seriously, but something at the Marine Corps recruiting office was about to change Danny’s life forever. Recruiting officer, Staff Sergeant Jones, admired his commitment, but he laughed and said “You’re a little too young, kid.” “Then coach me,” Danny replied. That exchange turned into three years of training and preparation with Jones.
At 17, Danny took the oath and joined the US Marine Corps. The clever kid, now a United States Marine, had fulfilled the promise he had made to himself on that fateful day in 2001.
Perez’s first deployment was to Al-Asad Airbase in Iraq. He had received his first meritorious promotion after at engineer school; as soon as he got to Iraq, he managed to piss everyone off when he received his second meritorious promotion to Corporal. As an Engineer Equipment Officer, Perez led eight other marines at the flight line, loading and unloading supplies into HeLos that were transported out to other bases in the region.
His first deployment, everything was business as usual, from antagonizing the reservists, organizing the fight rings for the base’s pet camel spider, and the occasional sandstorm. “You’d just see a wall of sand coming towards you” and have about an hour and a half to get everything done before it hit. Between their duties and the elements, they found ways to entertain themselves.
Then there were the Black-Out days. Black-Outs were the worst because it meant the base would go dark with electricity and power shut off. Behind the scenes, every soldier stood at attention while casket after casket was wheeled before them, each one draped in the American flag, and somberly loaded onto the C-130. Black-Outs meant their brothers and sisters in arms paid the ultimate price.
Perez deployed on two tours to Iraq with a stint in S. Korea separating them.
In Korea, his duty was to strengthen the South Korean Army to intimidate North Korea. Perez was in charge of 30 soldiers and trained the Korean Marines how to ”clear house,” sometimes letting his eagerness get the best of him and the “spirit of the law” take over. Throwing a flash-bang through a wall or kicking a trainee in the chest, Danny quickly gained a dubious reputation for acting out of instinct and not the letter of the law.
Danny was stationed in Ramadi just West of Baghdad for his second deployment during the 2009 elections in Iraq. After his first deployment, having been so affected by the ritual of the Black Out days, Perez volunteered himself for every mission that came up. As a Platoon Sergeant, he ran convoys, swept IED clean-up, rebuilt base barriers, and eventually worked private security for an Iraqi Security company.
Perez and five other marines in his command patrolled the site daily. “You weren’t supposed to,” but he said they became friends with the company owner. Danny recalled the feast they ate together at the end of the mission. It was a brief moment of comfort and normalcy.
“And after that is when everything went to shit.”
There was a month and a half long mission that required two welders. Perez trained for three weeks, hopping from base to base (including Saddam’s palace in Kapabul) to do smaller welding gigs before going to stay in Baharia with the main welder, Cpl. Beyer. Early every morning, Perez and Beyer traveled into Karma to patrol the streets and measure culvert openings where IEDs would usually be hidden. Then, they’d travel back to Baharia, weld grates for the culverts, and return to Karma at night with the grates to close off the culverts.
The last time he went out, he exited the truck, took off his helmet and body armor, and that’s when the sniper fire surrounded him. “Whatever terrorist sniper it was, he was a terrible shot” Perez recalls as rounds kept missing him while he welded the grate shut. By the end of the mission, Danny was drained and the damage done by his two tours kept him in that shadow place; he had enough.
However, with an unfulfilled death wish hanging over his head, Danny joined the reserves with the hope of going on tour again. He spent ten months in the reserves, and on the day he was promoted to Sergeant, Perez was discharged. Danny volunteered for Devil Dog Nation and DFW Devil Dogs, answering calls on a helpline, but his arduous adjustment back into civilian life was just beginning.
After months of self-medication, stress, and heartbreak, Danny said “I hit rock bottom and thankfully, rock bottom didn’t kill me.” He suffered a psychological breakdown and ended up in the hospital. He spent almost a month at the VA Hospital in Dallas, and soon he transferred to the VA Hospital in Bonham for almost a year-long rehab program. He met with a counselor and had to complete journaling entries to work through his PTSD. Looking back at his experience there, he says the camaraderie with other veterans is what impacted him the most.
When asked what he did to cope with his PTSD, Danny smiled and walked to his kitchen saying “come here for a second.” Following him, he pulled out a bag of 20 different prescriptions.
For the time being, this is Danny’s new way of life. But this, by no means, is the end of Danny’s story. The once innocent and precocious 14-year old boy dead-set on serving his country, to the war-weary Veteran trying to cope daily with the visions inside his head, both versions will write the next chapter of healing and slowly settling into his new normal as one who survived to tell not only his story but the stories of those who didn’t come back.