@BeschlossDC I was married in Washington, DC the summer of 1976; it was as patriotic a time as any I have seen. Eclipsed only by our (all too brief) resurgence of patriotism and kindness after 9/11.
Two days ago we lost an American hero. His name was Bruce Crandall, and this is his story 🇺🇸
Before he was a legend, Bruce Crandall was a kid from Olympia, Washington, born in 1933, an All-American high school baseball player who joined the National Guard at 15. The Army drafted him in 1953, trained him as an engineer, then put him in a cockpit. His first real job as a pilot was mapping the parts of the world nobody had charted yet, flying for two years over the open desert of Libya, then over thousands of square miles of unmapped mountains and jungle in Central and South America. He married Arlene in 1956. They would raise three sons. He spent the early part of his career flying toward empty places. Then Vietnam asked him to fly toward the worst one.
Sixty years ago, in a clearing called LZ X-Ray, roughly 450 American soldiers were surrounded by an enemy force several times their size. The shooting was so heavy the medevac helicopters turned back. Landing meant dying.
Bruce Crandall made a different choice.
He was a 32-year-old major flying an unarmed Huey. No guns. No armor that mattered. Just a thin aluminum shell and a decision. He pointed the nose at the hottest piece of ground in the war and went in anyway, with his wingman Ed "Too Tall" Freeman right behind him.
Then he did it again. And again. Twenty-two times in a single day.
He flew in the ammunition and water that kept the men alive. He flew out more than 70 wounded soldiers, loading them while rounds punched through the airframe, the cargo bay slick with other men's blood. Each run he could have stopped. Nobody would have blamed him. He kept his word to the men on the ground instead: you will be resupplied, and if you fall, we are coming for you.
He never fired a shot all day. He saved dozens of lives with nothing but nerve and a helicopter.
The men called him "Snake." He went back for a second tour and was shot down in January 1968, this time by friendly bombs falling too close. By the end of the war he had flown more than 900 combat missions.
Then he did something quieter that almost nobody talks about. He went home and lived an ordinary life. He retired as a lieutenant colonel in 1977, earned a master's degree, ran a small California town as its city manager, and spent 17 years in the Public Works Department in Mesa, Arizona, fixing roads and keeping the water running. The man who once flew through a wall of fire spent his later years making sure the streetlights worked.
It took 40 years for the country to catch up to what he did at X-Ray. In 2007, President Bush hung the Medal of Honor around his neck. If you saw We Were Soldiers, that was him on screen, Greg Kinnear in the cockpit, though the real man was braver than any movie could hold.
Col. Bruce "Snake" Crandall died on May 31, 2026, at 93 years old. He outlived the war, the doubts, and most of the men who watched him come screaming back into that valley when no one else would.
Some heroes carry a rifle. This one carried the wounded home, then went back to work like it was nothing.
Rest easy, Snake. We have it from here.
In honor of Lt. Col. Bruce Crandall (1933-2026), the best of us and a true American hero. We won't forget you 🇺🇸
#CoachingTip “Leadership is not about making those around you miserable and it’s important to understand you’ll never get the best effort out of anyone who doesn’t enjoy what they are doing or being around you”
#Ap2w
Memorial Weekend
2026 🇺🇸 🫡
This is such a poignant and respectful remembrance for all 9,387 US soldiers who paid the ultimate price for our freedom on D-Day in Normandy.
French caretakers’ tradition of taking sand from Omaha Beach and scrubbing it into the letters of the tombstones makes the names more visible and gives them a golden appearance.
I was in a synagogue last night in the center of Israel. As the prayer service continued, a tall handsome young man stood in front of the Torah Ark, his faced pressed against the velvet curtain, for what seemed like half an hour.
When he finished, I asked why the long and fervent prayer. He said he was leaving that night to fight in Lebanon in order to defend his nation against Hezbollah, and he was praying for the success of his mission. As he left, the entire congregation stood and clapped and wished him well.
To those outside of Israel praying for the Jewish State, try to imagine what life is like here. The daily dash to a shelter with small children or an elderly relative, the knowledge that a beloved son, daughter, spouse or patent is defending the nation and in harm’s way, and the well publicized threats from enemies to destroy us all.
If you’re not here, you won’t directly experience these traumas. But try to imagine them nonetheless as you pray and let your feelings drive you to seek God’s mercy with even greater intensity. It is an important contribution that can be made from anywhere on earth.
February 7, 1983
The cover of Sports Illustrated
"POWER AND GLORY"
Redskins Super Bowl MVP John Riggins — SI's post-Super Bowl XVII coverage. #RaiseHail#HTTR's first Super Bowl championship
Why is the publisher of The Washington Post going to the Super Bowl every year when the publisher of The Washington Post via the owner just told you that sports isn’t a vital part of news coverage?
President John F. Kennedy believed that one day this country would live up to its promise of justice and equal rights for all. For those beliefs and for his sacrifice, Congress voted to make The Kennedy Center a living memorial to him, as a place built by the people for the people to celebrate what connects us.
While this trespass on the People’s will is painful, President Kennedy would remind us that it is not buildings that define the greatness of a nation. It is the actions of its people and its leaders.
So, do not be distracted from what this Administration is actually trying to erase: our connection, our community, and our commitment to the rights of all.