US Marine Corps Captain Garrett Pearson was a giant among men. Standing 6'6", he had a presence that made him impossible to miss in any room he entered-and a heart big enough to match. His physical stature made him easy to find, but who he was as a man made him easy to follow. On October 3, 2026, Garrett was tragically lost in a training accident while attending MARSOC's Individual Training Course off the coast of Florida.
Wow! 🤯 💥
I believe Socrates pretty much nailed what’s happening now in our country!
Look familiar to y’all? Especially in Dem run cities and states!
Vote Red ❤️🇺🇸👊🏻to stop the madness! Republicans aren’t perfect by any means but Democrats are insane.
If Dems win the decline of our society will continue.
If I would have told you the #Guardians will bring the ALCS back home to Cleveland for the next 3 games tied 1-1, you'd ask me, "Where do I sign on the dotted line?"
As frustrating as Game 2 might feel, Cleveland would sign up for a 1-1 start to this series 100 times out of 100.
🇺🇸 This man was buried in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier for 14 years.
He was 1st Lt. Michael Blassie. Air Force Academy class of 1970. Oldest of five kids from St. Louis. Age 24.
On May 11, 1972, on his 132nd combat mission, his A-37B went down near An Loc. Heavy fire drove off the rescue attempt. His family was told he was killed in action. Body not recovered.
Five months later a South Vietnamese patrol found remains: part of a pelvis, an arm bone, ribs. A flight suit. A life raft. His ID card and wallet.
The bones went to Saigon labeled “believed to be” Blassie. In 1978 lab tests gave the wrong height, age, and blood type. They became X-26.
In 1984 the remains known only as X-26 were selected as the Unknown Soldier of the Vietnam War. On Memorial Day, President Reagan buried him in the Tomb of the Unknowns.
His mother Jean and sister Pat never gave up. “We want the truth, we want to bring him home,” Jean said. In 1998 the crypt was opened. DNA from his mother and sister matched.
That July he was buried in St. Louis, in the same cemetery as his father. His sister Pat, an Air Force Reserve captain, presided.
The Vietnam crypt was never refilled.
Indiana Marine Rifleman
Corporal David Grant Brown
passed away on October 14, 1965 from wounds sustained earlier that day in Quang Nam Province, South Vietnam. Remember David today. Semper Fi #American Hero.🇺🇸 Forever 20
All three runs the Rays scored tonight were unearned, as a result of this costly Jose Ramirez error. The Guardians lost 3-1.
Could this moment ultimately define the Guardians season? They could well be leading the ALCS 2-0 had he made this routine play...
He flew into the dark, turned on his lights, and saved lives when every instinct said to turn back
He was flying a single-engine helicopter in complete darkness, deep inside enemy territory.
On the radio, the voices were urgent.
“The enemy is closing in on us. We need help—now.”
It was just after midnight, June 19, 1968, over North Vietnam.
Two U.S. Navy F-4 Phantom jets had been shot down by surface-to-air missiles. The pilots—Lieutenant Commanders John Holtzclaw and John Burns—had ejected and were hiding on a steep, jungle-covered hillside.
They could hear enemy soldiers moving closer.
From the deck of USS Preble, a helicopter lifted into the night.
At the controls was Lieutenant Clyde Everett Lassen, just 26 years old. His aircraft: a UH-2A Seasprite—single engine, no backup.
If that engine failed, there would be no second chance.
Flying by instruments alone, Lassen crossed hostile terrain in total darkness. Tracer fire streaked below him, lighting the jungle in brief flashes.
He made contact with the downed pilots.
“We’re coming for you.”
Lassen located the hillside and dropped flares to illuminate the area.
First attempt: He landed near the base of the hill. The jungle was too dense. The pilots couldn’t reach him.
Enemy fire intensified.
Second attempt: Lassen hovered between trees, lowering the jungle penetrator. The flares burned out. Darkness returned.
The helicopter struck a tree.
The aircraft shuddered and dropped—but Lassen recovered control and pulled clear. The helicopter was damaged, but still flyable.
Fuel was running low.
On the ground, the trapped pilots could hear the enemy getting closer.
Lassen circled.
“We’re not leaving you.”
Third attempt: More flares. Another hover.
Still no access through the thick canopy.
Fuel now dangerously low. Every procedure said to abort.
Lassen refused.
“We’re going again.”
Fourth attempt: Flares illuminated the jungle—then faded.
Now hovering blind, surrounded by trees, taking fire, with almost no fuel left, Lassen made a decision that defied every instinct of self-preservation.
He switched on the landing lights.
The helicopter became a glowing target in the darkness.
But for the first time, the pilots on the ground could see him.
They forced their way through the undergrowth and reached the aircraft.
“Go! Go! Go!”
As the rescued pilots climbed aboard, bullets tore through the helicopter’s fuselage. Lassen pulled power and escaped the area, flying low and fast toward the coast.
His co-pilot checked the gauge.
“We’ve got about five minutes left.”
Still over enemy territory, Lassen pushed the damaged helicopter to its limits.
Finally, the coastline appeared. The South China Sea lay ahead.
They wouldn’t make it back to USS Preble.
Then, through the darkness, another ship appeared—USS Jouett.
No time for a normal approach.
Lassen brought the helicopter down hard onto the deck.
The engine sputtered.
And stopped.
There was no usable fuel remaining.
They had made it.
On January 16, 1969, at the White House, President Lyndon B. Johnson presented the Medal of Honor to Lieutenant Clyde Everett Lassen.
He became the first Navy helicopter pilot and the first Naval aviator to receive the Medal of Honor during the Vietnam War.
When later asked about that night, Lassen said simply:
“I was just doing my job like any other helicopter pilot.”
But history remembers what he actually did.
He flew into enemy territory in darkness.
He refused to leave after repeated failures.
He kept flying after striking trees and taking fire.
He made himself visible to save others.
He landed with nothing left.
In 2001, the U.S. Navy named a destroyer USS Lassen (DDG-82) in his honor.
Clyde Everett Lassen passed away in 1994
But on one night in 1968, when every rule said turn back, he turned on his lights—and flew into the dark.
”We were married nearly 48 years. The loss of my husband’s passing has been overwhelming!
His second Vietnam War experience was with Agent Orange. He was just as tough at 74, as he was when drafted at 18.”
- Joni Adkins
#TheVietnamWar#AgentOrange#RIP#Veterans #FamilyServesToo 🇺🇸
U.S. Marine Corps Private First Class William George Wheatley was killed in action October 13, 1965 in Quang Nam Province, South Vietnam. William was 18 years old from San Francisco, California. C Co. 1st BN, 9th Marines, 3rd MARDIV. Remember William today. Semper Fi #American Hero 🇺🇸
Air Force pilot Joe Jackson was circling 9,000 feet above a Special Forces camp in Vietnam in his C-123 cargo plane, an aircraft with no guns, when the radio confirmed the last people had been flown out. Fighter jets were cleared to destroy what was left of the camp and the enemy with it. Then a voice broke in. 3 American airmen were still down there.
The camp was Kham Duc, May 12, 1968, and it was falling. Thousands of enemy troops had it surrounded. Ammunition dumps were exploding, 8 aircraft had already been destroyed, and the enemy held gun positions on the runway itself.
The 3 men, Maj. John Gallagher, Tech. Sgt. Mort Freedman and Staff Sgt. Jim Lundie, had been flown out earlier that day, then sent back in to help with the evacuation. Now everyone else was gone. They were hiding in a ditch beside the runway with 3 rifles. “I never felt so lonely in all my life,” Freedman said later.
Another C-123 went in first. It landed under heavy fire, the crew couldn’t find the men, and the pilot pushed the throttles forward to get out. Just before liftoff they spotted the 3 men in the ditch, but it was too late to stop. The men watched what they thought was their last hope take off without them.
Jackson was next. He had flown fighters in World War II and Korea, and he knew the enemy gunners expected him to come in low and slow like every cargo plane before him. So he didn’t.
He pointed the nose down and dove almost straight at the runway from 9,000 feet. The gunners were caught by surprise. He pulled out just above the trees and landed on a strip littered with debris, where a wrecked helicopter had cut the usable runway to 2,200 feet.
The 3 men ran for the plane and were pulled aboard. As they climbed in, a rocket skidded to a stop less than 25 feet from the nose. It didn’t explode.
Jackson taxied around it and pushed the throttles all the way forward. Within 10 seconds, mortar rounds were landing on the spot they had just left. Tracers crossed the runway ahead of them.
The plane had been on the ground for less than a minute. It took off through the fire with all 3 men aboard, the last Americans out of Kham Duc. “When I looked up and saw that C-123 coming in, it was like a miracle,” Lundie said.
It was his 296th combat mission in Vietnam. President Lyndon Johnson presented him the Medal of Honor at the White House. Jackson passed away in 2019 at 95. 🫡 🇺🇸 ♥️
Honoring a hero ..
In 2009, Marine Dakota Meyer drove into a Taliban ambush
5 times under fire in Afghanistan, saving 36 lives, recovering 4 fallen brothers, and earned the Medal of Honor.
He disguised himself as a fisherman, slipped deep into North Vietnam, and rescued two American pilots who had almost been given up for dead. Six months later he was shot in the head, and a fellow Navy SEAL refused to leave him behind. Both men eventually received the Medal of Honor.
Thomas Norris was a SEAL in Vietnam. In April 1972 two pilots were shot down near the Cua Viet River. Helicopter rescues failed under heavy fire. Commanders concluded the men were lost. Norris volunteered anyway. He darkened his skin, wore local clothes, and moved by sampan and on foot with a small team of South Vietnamese commandos. He found Lieutenant Colonel Iceal Hambleton and brought him out. Days later he went back for Lieutenant Mark Clark, working with Nguyen Van Kiet. They reached him and guided him to a waiting ship. All three made it out.
For the rescues Norris received the Medal of Honor.
On October 31, 1972, Norris was leading a five-man reconnaissance team when they were ambushed by 50 to 100 enemy soldiers. He was shot in the head above the left eye. The bullet fractured his skull and destroyed the eye. He collapsed and lost a great deal of blood. One of the Vietnamese commandos thought he was dead. Mike Thornton refused to leave him.
Thornton lifted Norris onto his shoulders and moved toward the ocean while firing with one hand. At the water he dragged him into the surf, inflated his life vest, and swam for two hours in the South China Sea, keeping Norris’s head above water. A Navy ship eventually spotted them. Norris survived surgery and infection. He lost the eye and later had part of his skull replaced with a metal plate.
Thornton received the Medal of Honor for saving him. One Medal of Honor recipient had saved another. They became lifelong friends.
Norris later joined the FBI and served 20 years as a special agent, working with one eye and a metal plate in his head. Thornton stayed in the Navy another 30 years. Both kept a low profile.
Norris is now 80 and Thornton is 76. They remain friends. Their story is not only about the missions that seemed impossible. It is about turning back when every instinct said to run, and refusing to let go when someone else’s life depended on it.