THE WALL OF FACES

Happy Birthday, my big brother ... 76 years ago today, at 6:01 a.m., the world was blessed with your presence. I often wonder how our family would be with you here to guide us, share laughter with, and share our love for one another. I am so very proud of you and your determination to be the best that you could be, and your strong desire to help people at an early age. As I meet your classmates who share stories of you in school, my heart smiles.
Today, I will go to Waialua where you played along the beach and railroad tracks. I will imagine you working in Tutu's lo?i - taro patch. I will scatter flowers for you in the ocean that you loved ... Happy Birthday, my big brother.
Me ke aloha pau?ole. A hui hou, until we meet again.

Dear SP5 James Gabriel Jr, sir

As an American, I would like to thank you for your service and for your sacrifice made on behalf of our wonderful country. The youth of today could gain much by learning of heroes such as yourself, men and women whose courage and heart can never be questioned.

May God allow you to read this, and may He allow me to someday shake your hand when I get to Heaven to personally thank you. May he also allow my father to find you and shake your hand now to say 'thank you'; for America, for those who love you, and for the Sgt's son.

With respect, and the best salute a civilian can muster for you, Sir

Curt Carter (son of Sgt. Ardon William Carter, 101st Airborne, died February 4, 1966, South Vietnam)

Sgt. Barry Sadler paid tribute to you in the ORIGINAL lyrics of the Ballad of the Green Beret. On page 81 of his book,
'I'm a Lucky One', he wrote:

'Remember, Gabriel died on Asia's shore.
To a wife and child, he'll return no more.
They heard this brave man say,
'I would give my life for the Green Beret.'

Di Oppresso Liber.
Free the Oppressed

Aloha e Kimo ~ It was 50 years today that you met your fate by the hands of the VC ... you and your fellow comrade, Sgt. Wayne Marchand of Nebraska. Times Magazine reported this story: 'Scene of the struggle was a jungle clearing outside An Chau, a village 360 miles north of Saigon. There, Sargeants James Gabriel and Wayne Marchand were drilling 31 local Vietnamese volunteers in a two-week field exercise. All went well until the third night of the exercise. Suddenly at 10 pm, there was a rustling in the saw grass across a nearby river. Concerned, Sgt. Gabriel fired warning shots, sent up flares in the direction of the noise. For a long time there was silence. Then came what sounded like a dog's bark. From a different direction, a cock crowed. At last came the tap of a bamboo tocsin, and the VC came running out of the dark. This first attack was quickly repulsed, but shortly after daybreak the guerrillas came back in ernest. 'I saw Sgt. Gabriel phoning and shooting and changing clips all at the same time,' said a Vietnamese villager. 'Three times he was wounded and knocked down. The third time he didn't get up.' Before he fell, Gabriel radioed a final message to the U.S. base at Da Nang seven miles away. 'Under heavy attack from all sides. Completely encircled by enemy ... ammunition expended. We are being overrun.' When 20 Americans rushed down from Da Nang in helicopters, they found the bodies of Gabriel and Marchand, hands tied behind their backs with their shirts, each shot in the back of the head.'
Brother, I was just 11 years old then, but I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was pulled out of Homeroom class that morning and told to report to the principal's office where Dad was waiting for me. We rode home in silence and I clung to my schoolbag for comfort. The pain was overwhelming for Mom and Dad. Fifty years later, I still have all your letters that Mom kept in a shoebox.

Today, I salute you, and all the other 58,000 casualties of the Vietnam war, for your bravery and desire to fight for freedom. I am proud to be your sister, and will continue to honor your name and the ultimate sacrifice you made for our country.

Di Oppresso Liber ~
Free The Oppressed

Your baby sister,
billie

Jump school, Ff. Bragg, 1957