Ray Holcomb

Ray Holcomb

In Memoriam

Ray and I both spent a year on Trang Sup during the Viet Nam War, but sort of like ships passing in the night. That is, we were not on Trang Sup at the same time except for a brief period when I came back TDY to remove the radar after the site had been deactivated.

We really didn’t get to know each other until years later, on SafeHaven, the Viet Nam veterans’ discussion group. Ray became a friend in every sense of the word. I don’t know how he was elsewhere, but on SafeHaven, he was an even-tempered man with a gently humorous way about him. He also seemed to be pretty well versed in a number of fields.

It seems ironic that, at this crucial time in the Nation’s history, the Viet Nam War is again playing an important role, while many of its veterans are departing the scene. Like me, Ray also spent some happy times in Spain, so, Vaya con Dios, Amigo; Buen Viaje...and Semper Fi.

~Thurman P. Woodfork (Woody)

GOD BLESS THEE, FRIEND

This is what it comes to in the end,

Suffering for the death of a friend,

Knowing that we soon will be gone,

You and I...and every other one.

It seems so pointless, life, its despair,

The love all lost that we fought to share.

The days of laughter agony and fear,

Stupid arguments, comradeship held dear,

And all those days of national bloody pride

Brothers fighting bravely side by side,

Losing youth in the shot and shell of war,

Returning as tortured men to our home shore.

God bless thee friend a brother briefly known

Who leaves us shocked to the very bone.

© 18 February 04 Colin F Jones

It was an honor to know Ray...we never met, but brotherhood is not diverted by oceans.

Colin "Buck" Jones

For Ray

Sadness is a river
that washes over one and all
…as it does over us today
overflowing the banks of life
and then traveling on into time...
leaving only memories behind...

treasure them...

© 2/17/2004 Faye Sizemore

Ray, Semper Fi old friend. You became the brother I don't have. I'll miss your

e-mails and calls. Maybe someday down the road we can take that Alaska trip.

Jim "Jed" Leggett

Ray, I only met you in person for a few minutes outside of the club~~spent many hours getting to know you more at The Milk Bar. I'll always recall those few minutes discussing motorcycles & Old-Time Largo. Thanks for the memories!

Christy Tarbox-Smith '80

Ray, Thanks for the memories. The pictures, poems, and music. Thank

you for always being there when I needed advice. I will miss you old buddy.

Bobbie Lowe-Walker

Just found out Ray passed away from reading the Largo High

Forum, may the Lord bless Ray and watch over his Loved One's.

Bill Krass

I found Ray to be a fine fellow with a great sense of humor and I'm really sorry about

all of this. May God comfort his friends and loved ones as they mourn his loss.

Emory Brown

I had the privilege of meeting Ray online, in the Milk Bar. He struck me as a kind and decent person. I am sad he is no longer with us, but I pray he is at peace now, in a place without pain or sorrow, filled with joy and new life.

Ann Simonson

In Memory of My Brother Ray

This morning my thoughts traveled along

To a place in my life where days have long since gone

Beholding an image of what I used to be

As visions were stirred, and God spoke to me

He showed me a Warrior, a solder in place

Positioned by Heaven, yet I saw not the face

I watched as the Warrior fought enemies

That came from the darkness with destruction for me

I saw, as the Warrior would dry away tears

As all of Heaven's Angels hovered so near

I saw many wounds on the Warrior's face

Yet weapons of warfare were firmly in place

I felt my heart weeping, my eyes held so much

As God let me feel the Warrior's prayer touched

I thought "how familiar" the words that were prayed

The prayers were like lightning that never would fade

I said to God, "Please, the Warrior's name,"

He gave no reply; He chose to refrain

I asked, "Lord, who is broken that they need such

prayer?"

He showed me an image of myself standing there

Bound by confusion, lost and alone

I felt prayers of the Warrior carry me home

I asked, "Please show me Lord, this Warrior so true."

I watched and I wept, for Ray...

that Warrior - was you...

Jean-Claude, "Tiger"

In Memory of Ray

I met you on the Internet

I never met you face-to-face

and yet you touched me deeply

with your humor and your gentle grace

You reached out a hand to me

at a time when I was low ~~

with a card and some well chosen words;

Someone I didn't know.

I wish I'd known that you were blue

I wish I'd known that you were ill;

I would have tried to comfort you...

Now, you have gone beyond the Hill

I hope that when your journey ended,

your pain was gone, you weren't alone;

that Someone in the great Beyond

Whispered these two words:

Welcome Home.

©Christina - For Ray - 2-04

Thank God for Real Men

Do not wait until the light goes

behind his eyes and furrowed brow,

grooved from remembering those

who didn't make it back to now;

who, somehow, despite the years,

are seen hacking through brush,

jumping from skids, battling fears

with that needed adrenalin rush.

No, don't wait until the light goes

to take his palm in yours today,

pump his arm until he knows

you mean each grateful word you say.

Thank him for fighting in your stead,

for that grievous road he bravely trod,

for the many times he fought and bled

an eye on the foe, the other on God.

It could have been you, you know,

facing the bloodshed every day

unable to sleep without a show

invading your nights in vivid display.

Yes, it could have been you here

missing bros who died back then

and if that's still not crystal clear,

thank God for sending real men!

©Nancy L. Meek ~ February 20, 2004

In the last 15 years Ray has become the best friend that I could have. Around my house my kids call him Uncle Ray. I have read all of your stories. Reading the stories and the comments puts a smile on my face. If you have an opportunity to have a friend like Ray in your life you will be a lucky man. I had 15 years of that opportunity. I have been blessed.

He would meet me at the soccer field and watch my son play ball at 6 in the morning. My dog loved it when Ray would show up at the house. Ray would always have a treat for him. When my daughter was young Uncle Ray would call and ask her, if she wanted to go to McDonalds and did she want to bring her dad!

Ray is a good man and one hell of a friend!

Steve Spalding

For Ray

You loved this land and served it well…in it…in peace I dwell

Lavender mists folded around…surreal beauty holds me bound
Mountains rising like kings...just a few of the ethereal things
Lakes…mirror-like...reflecting powder-puff azure skies
From corner of my eye an eagle flies...and dips its wings at me
Nothing is ever gone you see...only the shape you perceive
Those who love have never lost...for love has paid all the cost
Love flows free...one has only to believe
Proof was never asked so love was not masked
The truth that one often sees is like a caress by the breeze
and…if it is heeded...it is all that is needed...

©Faye Sizemore 2/23/04

See You at the Bridge

I never met you mate, but your name was not unknown

I never shook your hand mate, but together we had grown.

We lived in different countries but we fought in the same war

And we served at different times mate, upon that foreign shore.

We were brothers, one and all mate; no matter what our creed

We fought and held each other mate, whenever there was need

We were in that foreign country and never forgot the things we saw

And the brotherhood there formed mate, would never be foresworn.

You’ve travelled to the bridge where all honoured warriors tread

You’re now on sentry duty mate; you’ve forged the way ahead

Keep your eyes alert mate; keep watch on we who’re left behind

For we’re in a dangerous field mate; a field that has been mined.

I’ll meet you at the bridge mate, and together we’ll fight no more

We’ll remember all the good times mate, and recall the times of war

We’ll remember that we lived and we’ll remember those who died

But mate, we’ll remember most of all, all those who for us cried.

©Anthony W. Pahl

March 02, 2004

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