THE WALL OF FACES

The school picture for John Cochrane is from his senior year at Edsel Ford High School in Dearborn, Michigan in 1960. Help with the photo came from Nancy Horvath Martinsen and other classmates and friends of John's at Edsel Ford. He is still remembered and missed by his class.

Dear Lt John Cochrane,
Thank you for your service as a Signal Security Officer. December is here, along with all the preparations. It is almost Christmas. It is so important for us all to acknowledge the sacrifices of those like you who answered our nation's call. Please watch over America, it stills needs your strength, courage and faithfulness. Rest in peace with the angels.

The Price of Freedom

My wounds flush with blood and bone, I struggle through the shot and fire.
Their cries of pain and death sounded above the mortar and artillery fire.
As I crawl wounded, shattered and scared beyond fear into the night.
They shouted frantically, “Tell the rest of our sacrifice and how bravely we fought in this place with no name, or mark upon the map.
Was not to be my grave.
To place their names upon the rolls of the sacrificed,
Was to be my task in life.
The guns silent, the jungle still,
They are forever in that stiffing nameless hell.
The days and nights past more times than I could count,
With only the name of those left behind upon my lips.
I struggled and staggered through the mud and rain.
Carrying their pain and names forever.
Each stream and hill I crawled, I gave their names;
to this place with no name, or mark upon the map.
Old and gray standing before the granite wall each Independence and Veterans Day, I proudly call their names.
As my time is short, they gather about with smiles and laughter in their eyes,
Beckoning me once again to nameless places.

Dear 1LT John Floyd Cochrane, 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, and for those who love you.

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

Curt Carter

John was my uncle. He died when I was only 4 months old. My mother gave me some of his things as time has gone on. One of those things was his guitar. His old Sears stela guitar that he had with him in Vietnam. I am writing this now as my own son looks just like him.I wish that I would have had the chance to know him better. Thanks to all who served with my uncle and to all gave the ultimate sacrifice.