JACK E SEARING
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HONORED ON PANEL 2W, LINE 40 OF THE WALL

JACK EDWARD SEARING

WALL NAME

JACK E SEARING

PANEL / LINE

2W/40

DATE OF BIRTH

09/22/1949

CASUALTY PROVINCE

THUA THIEN

DATE OF CASUALTY

10/17/1971

HOME OF RECORD

STERLING

COUNTY OF RECORD

Whiteside County

STATE

IL

BRANCH OF SERVICE

ARMY

RANK

WO

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Contact Details

REMEMBRANCES

LEFT FOR JACK EDWARD SEARING
POSTED ON 12.3.2023
POSTED BY: john fabris

honoring you....

Thank you for your service to our country so long ago sir. The remembrance from Mick Tronquet is touching and reflects the ambivalence harbored by so many about this war as well as his respect for you. As long as you are remembered you will remain in our hearts forever….
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POSTED ON 8.13.2023
POSTED BY: Drew O'Neill

Jack E Searing

Thank you for your service.
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POSTED ON 7.19.2022
POSTED BY: RICHARD A GUENTHER SR

I was the Helicopter pilot who picked Jack up after the accident.

My Name is Richard Guenther and I went to flight school with Jack and got the mission to extract the bodies from the wreckage.
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POSTED ON 1.11.2022
POSTED BY: Lucy Micik

Thank You

Dear WO Jack Searing, Thank you for your service as an Utility/Observations Helicopter Pilot. Saying thank you isn't enough, but it is from the heart. Happy New Year. Time moves quickly. Please watch over America, it stills needs your strength, courage, guidance and faithfulness, especially now. Rest in peace with the angels.
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POSTED ON 5.24.2020
POSTED BY: Mick Tronquet

Escort Detail

October 1971, Oakland International Airport tarmac. I saluted Jack as he was loaded into the belly of the Boeing 707, repeated in Chicago where Jack and I changed planes. My Letter Orders issued by the Department of Army read: Escort the remains of . . . comply with briefing and MTW-Pamphlet 128, Subject “Guide For Escorts Of Deceased Military Personnel.” While Pamphlet 128 provided some practical information, I was offended at its advice that escort duty was a serious matter; I needed no instruction—governmental or otherwise—to appreciate the responsibility and honor inherent in this task.

The 707 delivered Jack and me to his small Midwestern hometown. Within minutes of our arrival, Jack’s father took me aside and asked to see his boy; it was the one question I had hoped would not be asked. I told him that was not something he wanted to do. I repeated my solemn advice and, just as he was about to raise his voice, he understood. His loss overcame him and he wept. Sometimes I think maybe it was that awful realization, the desperation in those eyes, that haunts me most. I save my tears for mostly private moments, although it gets harder with age.

I remember the brisk Fall day, not so far from Kent State University where the dramatic events of barely a year before had helped seal the fate of Jack’s war. The flawless rendition of Taps, the twenty-one gun salute. Folding the flag that had covered Jack and handing it to America’s newest widow of war. The privilege and pain of sharing that loss is something I would not trade.

I am haunted by memories of those events, something akin, I think, to Norman McLean’s waters. Bringing Jack home was an honor that remains hard to fully fathom even all these years later.

Do I not understand? Another death from an undeclared war. Another death of the all-American kid. Jack did his duty, but can duty alone justify the loss of a life so important and loved? Indeed, there is much honor in duty, but there is no justification in the use of “honor” and “duty” to perpetrate wars gone wrong or wrong from the start. A nation haunted, I used to think, would not allow the same mistakes made in Jack’s war, at least not in my lifetime. Yet, in recent years we seem to be in a similar place—as if we just can’t help ourselves—witnessing the wounded and the dead from each new cause contrived. Even my visit with Jack at The Wall in the Autumn of 2019 provided no answers.
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