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Bob: Joe was a tough guy and I mean really tough. The town of Emerson was known for its great athletes (just ask any old time HHS coach), and even better known as being full of guys ready to rumble any time. We had a bowling alley over on the north side, which was kind of the hang out – and the place where tough guys would bump knuckles to see who was the current top dog. I can’t begin to remember how many times I saw Joe walk through the crowd over there and never – NOT ONCE – did any of those other tough guys try to take him on. He didn’t swagger or strut, he just strolled through the crowd – always with a little smile on his face – and was polite to everyone. If you remember the old Jimmy Dean song “Big Bad John”…that was Joe. 1961-62 was the first season we had a wrestling team. I don’t think anyone had any experience – including Paul Fulton, the coach. I remember practices where Paul would be on the mat with a book on wrestling in his hands. While looking at the diagrams he would walk through a move to demonstrate how to do it, and then watch as we all gave it a try. Paul had read somewhere that 90% of all matches were won by whoever got the first takedown, so that is what we practiced – every day. Fast forward to the Bergen County Christmas Tournament. These were the first actual matches we had been to, so none of us knew what we were doing. We had a couple of guys make it to the Finals (Joe and – I think – a guy named Rex something). Both guys were football players and made it that far on sheer athletic ability – not because of wrestling skills. At the start of every match, Joe would just hunker down with his hands on his knees and stare at his opponent. If the other guy started moving around, Joe would just shift his feet to keep him straight ahead. He got some ‘stalling’ warnings in the early matches, but never let that bother him. In the final, Joe was going up against the prior year’s state champion. He did the hands on knees thing and just stayed there staring at the guy. The other guy was moving around trying to figure out how to attack, but Joe kept his cool. After a good bit of time, the referee raised his whistle to his lips to call the stalling – and Joe hit the other guy with a shoulder tackle to the chest that was so fast, most people never saw it happen. Joe hit him so hard and so fast that the other guy never had a chance. He had the wind knocked out of him and could barely move – game over. I’m not sure if Paul Fulton is still around, but he tells the story a lot better – and probably remembers it better than I.
My active duty Marine Corps career lasted almost nine years, starting in January 1964 My first year was spent either training or waiting for training and in June 1965 I received orders for Vietnam (Chu Lai) and returned home about a year later. Following three years of state-side duty, I was offered a temporary commission (Infantry) and accepted. Being commissioned meant going back to Vietnam as a Second Lieutenant. My company operated in the area south and west of Da Nang. I used to say that on my first tour I was the last guy in the last squad wondering who the dumb SOB in charge up front was. On my second tour, I was the dumb SOB in charge up front. Those who served with me would say that isn't entirely a joke. Leading an infantry platoon in combat does wonders at controlling any out-sized egos. Every time 30+ tired and hungry guys look at you with that "what now LT?" expression on their faces, you just have to have second thoughts about what a great idea it was to pin on those gold bars. Fortunately, all of my troops made it back home alive. Something for which I will always be grateful. My temporary commission expired about the same time the Marine Corps involvement in Vietnam did, so in January 1973 I went to college. Being a 26 year old Freshman was an interesting experience. Fortunately, there were a lot of Vets on campus playing the same ‘catch up’ game as I and we made it a point to help each other adjust to the new environment. After getting my degree, I wandered around the civilian world until Desert Storm kicked off. Our son (we've been married 45 years now) was with the Army's 101st Airborne Division and was mobilized immediately. Naturally, I marched down to the recruiter's office and told them I was ready for duty. The Marine Corps thanked me politely, but had no openings for a 45 year old infantry Lieutenant. The Army, however, said sign here and raise your right hand. Within three days, I was back in uniform and off for some refresher training - and boy did I need a lot of that! I spent the next 15 years playing catch-up (again) and visiting even more exotic foreign lands. At age 60 I was facing mandatory retirement, and very glad of it. At retirement, I had a whole chest full of “I’ve been there” ribbons, plus a Purple Heart, the Marine Corps Combat Action Ribbon, and the Army CIB. I can say with absolute certainty that at no time or place did I ever do anything remotely heroic, but was (and am) glad for the opportunity Semper Fidelis! H. Victor Young |