Charles Alexander's Bravery

Charles Alexander's Bravery

August 4, 2017

South Texas during football season can be hot — even at night.  It was one of those sultry evenings when the Edinburg Bobcats were playing football against one of those evil adversaries from some other town — maybe McAllen.   As I remember, the outcome of the game had already been decided and Edinburg was stomping the bejesus out of the McAllen Bulldogs — the score was maybe about 35 to 10 with only a couple of minutes left in the game. 

Jerry Kaml, Charlie Alexander and I were on the top row in the stands on the east side of the field where an occasional light breeze could reach us to help cool our sweaty bodies.  But, in spite of the heat, it was time to celebrate the great victory against the hated enemy.  One of us had a pocket full of confetti.  I think we had found this confetti in a trash can in a secretary’s office where she had been punching holes in colored paper so they would fit in a 3-ringed binder or something.  Anyway, we had filled the pockets of our Levis with this paper — not sure how we would use it.  Now that the Bobcat football team had won, and at half-time the Sergeanette Drill Team (which included this cute blond twirler named Pat Turner, Margaret Mathews as Drum Major in the band, strutted up and down the field and Peggy Freeze (who wore those tight blue jeans as she moved so gracefully in the halls of Edinburg high School) led the crowd to cheer.  A. C. Johnson, Eddie Marburger and the other heroic football players had led Edinburg to a great victory over a hated rival. 

Anyway, it seemed a opportune time to use that confetti in our pockets.  We threw some high into the air and a sudden gust of wind appeared out of nowhere and caught that confetti, carried it down and along the bleachers where it settled on top of a large group of unhappy McAllen Bulldog fans. This all happened back in about 1954 when it was fashionable for some guys to apply profuse amounts of Wildroot Cream Hair Oil that made their hair look slick and wet.  And so it was with these Bulldog fans.  We watched with considerable pleasure as those small pieces of colored confetti fell onto and stuck to those oily heads.  “Serves them right” we thought for being in our stands when they should have been in the stands on the other side of the field where the enemy supporters were supposed to be..  But, we were not yet done.  Just as we were tossing some more confetti into the air, one of the enemy was watching and so detected the source of all that paper that was sticking in their hair.  Of course they were already unhappy because their team was losing badly — but that confetti sticking in their hair was the last straw. 

So there they were — a group of maybe 10 to 100 of them glaring at us with fire in their eyes.  We looked around us for help from our side but all we could see was mothers with babies and old men with small grandsons.  Yes, we were all alone — just the three of us left to face those guys that looked about the size of Dallas Cowboy linebackers and likely all had switchblade knives in their pockets.  I was busy looking for an escape route in case they charged us, when something incredible happened.  One or two of those guys, with the oily hair and adorned with colored confetti, were making obscene gestures to us beckoning us to come down for a fair fight.  Well, Charlie Alexander took offense and charged down through the crowd to take on that platoon of the enemy — all by himself.  I expected that maybe Charlie would get into a shouting match or something, but no — he dove headlong into those guys and quickly disappeared from view.  I assumed the worse.  Charlie had likely been stabbed and kicked to death.  Those guys who likely wore steel-toed boots were now taking turns kicking poor Charlie in the face.  Jerry and I were faced with a horrible dilemma.  Should we run to Charlie’s defense where we too would be stabbed, sliced and kicked to death or should we wait until those guys dispersed so we could find Charlie’s lifeless body and take it to Skinner’s Mortuary.  Visions of knocking on Charlie’s family door came to mind.  Mrs. Alexander would come to the door and we would have to explain that her son was dead but could found in Skinner’s Mortuary.  Then we would apologize for not taking care of her baby boy as we had promised earlier.

Now understand, Charlie’s hostile actions were totally uncharacteristic.  He was normally a very  mild-mannered guy, well-liked by his classmates, a good student, very intelligent and a good friend.  His dad had died of cancer when he was about 6 years old and his mom supported Charlie and his two brothers by working in the Hidalgo County Courthouse.  His family was held in high esteem in the Edinburg community.  But now that promising young man lay bleeding and maybe lifeless on the Bobcat bleachers.  Pity!

But, by now the game had ended, the “linebackers” with the oily hair dispersed and a miracle happened.  Charlie’s head appeared up out of the bleachers, he struggled to his feet and stood up.  Hurray!  Charlie had risen — he was not dead after all.  Jerry and I — feeling very guilty for not having the courage to help him — were especially relieved.  The greasy-haired guys with confetti in their hair must have felt satisfied that their honor had been restored and they drifted away.  We checked Charlie’s body for blood — thinking that we would likely need to rush him to the hospital — but there was none.  However, he was holding his hand over his mouth and then showed us a front tooth which had been chipped badly “when he was kicked in the face while he was down” he said.

Charlie wore that chipped tooth like a badge of honor — that he so justly deserved for his bravery.  I have sometimes wondered if that event in the bleachers had some influence on the three of us in deciding to join the Marine Corps sometime later.  But, I do know that after a couple of months in Marine Corp Boot Camp, we donned our dress uniforms for the requisite graduation ceremony photos, and the photo I still have shows Charlie’s happy face — but that chipped tooth was not exhibited because we were not allowed to smile for photos.  Otherwise, Charlie’s chipped tooth served as a memorial to battles fought. 

As I was thinking about this story, I had a vision of Charlie’s retirement party from the Marine Corps (I was not there) and he was in his dress blues, major’s uniform and on his chest was a plethora of medals that he had won during his service to these United States.  And there, in the middle of all those medals, was one that he earned for his heroics in the Battle of the Edinburg Bleachers.

Now, here we are about 61 years later and I am here representing not only myself, but also our old buddies: Jerry Kaml, Tosh Williams (who joined the Marines later) and Howard Simmons (who joined the Navy) the entire Edinburg Class of 1955, and the citizens of Edinburg to honor and wish Major Chuck Alexander a very happy 80th and to caution him to be very careful about taking on a platoon of Dallas Cowboy linebackers all by himself in the future. 

OK, that’s my story and I’m sticking with it — but we can now hear Charlie’s version to clean up some of those pesky details.
 

Table of Contents:  https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/6813612681836200616/3382423676443906063?hl=en

Memories with Charles Alexander

Memories With Charles Alexander

Edinburg High School senior 1955

"And when the air cleared, there it was, a mountain directly in front of me and I had about 2 seconds before I would hit it and thus had no chance of avoiding it.  I was flying an F-4 Phantom fighter fast and low -- had just finished dropping several napalm bombs in Vietnam and had circled around to hit this target again.  There was no avoiding the mountain and I flew directly into it's side -- I was a goner -- except that nothing happened.  Then I realized that what I thought was a mountain was really the smoke billowing up from bombs I had just dropped on the first run.  Whew!  The mountain was nothing but smoke."

OK, when Charlie told this story recently, I did not record his exact wording so I paraphrase.  But, I hope the essence of this story is reasonably accurate.

Anyway, he explained that his fighter carried 12 napalm bombs which was a heavy load, so making a steep dive toward the target was fundamentally impossible.  It was necessary to approach the target in a shallow dive which exposed his aircraft to enemy fire from below.  During his many sorties in Vietnam, he received a couple of bullet holes in his plane -- nothing serious.  Fortunately, he was never shot down and captured by the Viet Cong.

Captain Alexander now called Chuck

His dad died of cancer when Charles was only 7 years old, so his heroic mom provided for and raised the three boys.

Mom

Ralph, Charles and Jack Alexander

Charles and I were high school buddies.  About a year after we graduated from High School, a Marine Corps recruiter convinced us that when we were drafted, we would end up as foot soldiers in the US Army.  But, if we joined the Marine Corps we could choose our own specialty.  So, Charlie, Jerry Kaml and I joined and suffered through boot camp in San Diego in Platoon 296.  I don't remember Mr. Lugo, who is also in this photo.  If you notice a chip in Charlie's front tooth, the following story provides an explanation. 

Charlie soon took an exam, passed and qualified to become a pilot in the US Navel Cadets.  Among his training sites was Beeville, Texas where he met Mary --  a laboratory technician -- and they were married.

The marriage resulted in a couple of beautiful daughters that must have made him very proud.

Joy, Mary and Karen Alexander

But, long before his daughters grew up, Charles became a flight instructor in Viet Nam and later in Hawaii, retired as a major from the Marine Corps, and took a job flying 737 passenger planes for Aramco in Saudi Arabia -- a job that paid much better than the Marines.  His Saudi employers gave him much time off, so he was happy to enjoy an easier life than when in the Marines.  He had one of the largest homes in the Aramco residential camp, so they had lots of parties there.  It was there that he took up scuba diving and ultimately became an instructor in the sport.  Mary later joined him and they dove in some of the best diving sites around the world.

Chuck, Joy, Mary and Karen ready for a swim

He also took up tennis, sailing and giving parties to other ex-patriots living in Saudi Arabia.

I observed this photo on his wall and Charles explained these were Saddam Hussein's Scud missiles exploding over Riyadh, Saudi Arabia during the War in the Gulf.  One hit US barracks, killing 27 soldiers and injuring 98.  Must be a sound of that explosion is apparently etched deep into his memory.

To summarize, and according to his daughter Karen, he spent "20 years in the marines - fighter pilot!! 20 years flying with Aramco aviation. I think 20 years with flight safety. He was awarded numerous flight safety awards and the best award was the Wright Brothers award -- the most prestigious award the FAA issued under the title 14 code. It is awarded to pilots that have exhibited professionalism, skill, and aviation expertise for at least 50 years while piloting aircraft as a master pilot."

His handsome family has also grown, but has also lost one member.  Sadly, Mary died several years year.

Charles, Ryan, Mary, Preston, Joy, Zachery amd Karen

And here he is with a gathering of his old Edinburg High School friends during their 50th reunion.

Howard Simmons, Charles Alexander, Jerry Kaml, Tosh Williams and Winfield Sterling

Anyway, I am very proud of my old friend for his long and successful career and for producing a loving family.  We wish him a speedy recovery after his recent fall.  And, I hope his nurse will forgive me for sneaking him out of a local rehabilitation center.  At least she gave me a serious scolding for not checking him out when my wife, Pat and I helped him escape to his beautiful home in Collyville, TX for a few hours.

Charlie's life deserves a much more complete and detailed treatment than this brief overview, but maybe its a start for someone else to use for writing his complete biography.

Table of Contents:  https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/6813612681836200616/3382423676443906063?hl=en   

Exploring the King's Highway in Mexico

Exploring the King's Highway in Mexico

Several years ago, Pat and I happened upon Camino Real Heritage Museum between Albuquerque and Las Cruces, NM.

It was an absolute treasure and introduced us to the Mexican portion of the King's Highway that they called the "Camino Real de Tierra Adentro".  This museum is located on an isolated mesa overlooking the Rio Grande River valley to the east.  We were very impressed with both the displays of the museum and its splendid, panoramic view of mountains to the west and valley to the east.  Unfortunately, this museum was closed several years ago before we attempted to make a return visit.  As far as I know, it is still closed to visitors.  Too bad!

King's Highway from Veracruz to Santa Fe

 

We had previously been introduced to the Camino Real that passes through Texas into Louisiana and Junipero Serra's trail in California, and had traveled many miles of these trails and visited many of the missions.  But, this New Mexican museum made us consider actually following this trail through Mexico -- from Veracruz and then up through Puebla, Mexico City, Guanajuato, Zacatecas, Durango, Corralitos, Chihahua, and finally Presidio, Texas.  We deviated from the trail between Chihuahua and El Paso, with plans to finish that portion on some future trip.

Another of the ideas for this trip, came from this mural that we saw someplace that depicts trail histories from Indian foot-trails, to Conquistadors, Catholic friars, wagons and finally RVs.  Walking this trail was no part of our plan -- we traveled by motorhome.

 For this history of this trail, I recommend:

https://www.nps.gov/nr/travel/El_Camino_Real_de_Tierra_Adentro/map_Mexico_Historic_Sites.html.

"El Camino Real's story begins with the 1546 discovery of a large silver vein in Zacatecas, Mexico. Twenty-seven years earlier, Hernán Cortés and his Spanish army had invaded Mexico, defeating the mighty Aztec Empire to control the region they called New Spain. The Spaniards’ mission was twofold: to exploit the region’s mineral wealth and to convert its native populations to Christianity. News of the rich mineral deposits at Zacatecas drew Cristóbal de Oñate, a Spanish soldier and aide to Cortés, 200 miles north from Guadalajara to develop the site."

It was a long, hot road for us but only took us a few weeks -- whereas, up to 6 months was required by the Spaniards on foot, horseback or wagons.

We began this 2008 adventure in Veracruz where the highway begins and where Winfield Scott  landed his troops in the War with Mexico.  He shelled the city into submission without actually invading it.

Assault of Veracruz 

 

Pat and I explored the Veracruz harbor and found a group of jolly teenagers who readily posed for a photo.

Back in 2002, we had traveled the King's Highway as we left the Gulf coast of Mexico and climbed into the mountains through the city of Orizaba and then to Puebla where we rested for a few days.  We entered this large metropolitan building to find a group of youngsters dancing some kind of formal Mexican dances.  We found it very entertaining and colorful.

 

Pat pointing to Popocatepetl

 

We obtained an excellent view of snowy/smoky Popocatepetl volcano before entering the outskirts of Mexico City.  There the traffic police stopped us and tried to steal our motorhome.  See:
 https://winisterling.blogspot.com/2008/09/bad-day-in-mexico.html for the sordid details.

After finally escaping the Mexican City Traffic Cops, we left the King's Highway and returned to Texas through San Luis Potosi and Monterrey.

Then, in 2008, we again rejoined the King's Highway on our way north from Southern Mexico and visited the attractive, colonial city of Guanajuato where we worried that our motor-home would not fit in the many city tunnels.  So, we skirted around the downtown tunnels till we found this Morril RV Park, where we had this splendid view of the city.

Morril RV Park view

 

After several days in Guanajuato, we began the longest and driest stretch of the King's Highway.  Along the way it was possible to sometimes see the old cobblestone road that was used for hundreds of years.

Freight wagons on the highway -- back when.

 And, we saw lots of ganado (cattle) and vaqueros cowboys) in the pastures and along the road.

And, long, high-desert highways where we sometimes chased dust devils.

We followed the King's Highway through Aguascalientes where we were searched at an army check point.  Not finding any automatic rifles, grenades or marijuana in our RV, they allowed us to pass.

At Zacatecas we found one of the best RV Parks in Mexico at the Hacienda del Bosque Hotel.

Then it was on to Durango where the citizens seem to have a love affair with that old bandit, Pancho Villa.  Maybe he is revered because he raided the US town of Columbus, NM and then evaded the US Army when they tried to capture him in Mexico.  A little revenge for losing the Mexican/American war?

In the foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains, Durango would be a great scenic and historical place to visit if the cartels were gone.

Durango Plaza

 

At the town of Hidalgo del Parral, we took a side-trip to Creel and Copper Canyon -- a major tourist stop in Mexico.  It was cold.

We saw little of Chihuahua town because we took the loop around it -- then headed for the US border at Ojinaga/Presidio along the Conchos River that runs into the Rio Grande.  This river cut this deep Peguis Canyon through geological time to form a "sister" canyon to the Boquillas and Santa Elena Canyons of Big Bend, NP.

When we drove across the border at Presidio, that ended our tour of Mexican portion of the King's Highway.  Wish we could do it all again -- almost.  We really don't wish to see masked soldiers speeding down the highway in the back of a pickup anymore.

Table of contents:  https://winisterling.blogspot.com/2018/01/table-of-contents-asia-europe-latin.html