Every day I wear on my right wrist a smooth, black, metal bracelet. On it is inscribed the name of a young man that I have never met, who grew up in a state that I haven’t visited, who served his country in a place I’ll never go, in ways I’ll never know, and became missing, trying to liberate those who were helpless to free themselves.
His name is Staff Sargent Jonathon Thomas Watts, U.S. Army Special Forces. He became M.I.A. on the 16th of May 1963.
J.T., as he was known to friends and family, was born on a sunny Friday, April 12, 1942, in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Growing up he was interested in the Boy Scouts, Speleology (the study or exploration of caves) and the Civil Air Patrol.
All his youthful interests seemed to point toward a desire to be part of a well-trained team. Later this desire became his motivation to join the U.S Army Special Forces, commonly known as the Green Berets, which he did, on Monday, May 9th, 1962. His family tells me that the proudest day of his life was when he was awarded his Green Beret.
Deployed to Vietnam, now Staff Sargent Jonathon Watts, was a member of a 12-man team responsible for the training of local South Vietnamese troops. The training included the operation of heavy weapon machine guns, mortars, etc. His team was supported by a division of the ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam.)
His letters home did not speak of the violence and killing, but rather the ways he learned to preserve life and to aid others. He wrote of the privilege of working with men who shared his dedication and belief that freedom doesn’t come to those who wish for it, but to those who work for it. He did not speak negatively about the Vietnamese, but rather their courage to die or be mutilated for their right to self-determination, free from fear or coercion.
He became missing on the 16th of May 1963 while aboard an aircraft doing visual reconnaissance over a hotly contested area a few miles from the Cambodian border. The aircraft disappeared and no trace of it, or those aboard, has ever been found.
For J. T.’s family and all the families of those unaccounted for, any news has been agonizingly slow. 50 years after the war, they have no closure, still holding out hope that someday, somehow, they might learn exactly what happened, and be able to bring their loved one home and bury them under their native soil.
The search continues in Vietnam, but time passes, memories fade, the jungle grows, and the land only begrudgingly gives up its secrets.
Total of missing; 2,641
Accounted for; 1,163.
Remains repatriated; 890.
UNACCOUNTED FOR; 1,578
In a modest home in a suburb of Allentown Pennsylvania, J. T.’s family continues to pray for answers. On the mantle above the fireplace are several framed pictures. In one, J.T. and his platoon are in full combat gear, slogging through the mud in a rice paddy. In another, he is shirtless and smiling with his buddies, standing by a helicopter. The one that grabs your attention though, he is in his uniform and wearing the newly earned green beret, young and handsome, eyes sparkling and smiling from ear to ear, like this was the best day of his life.
His name is Staff Sargent Jonathon Thomas Watts, U.S. Army Special Forces. He became M.I.A. on the 16th of May 1963.
J.T., as he was known to friends and family, was born on a sunny Friday, April 12, 1942, in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Growing up he was interested in the Boy Scouts, Speleology (the study or exploration of caves) and the Civil Air Patrol.
All his youthful interests seemed to point toward a desire to be part of a well-trained team. Later this desire became his motivation to join the U.S Army Special Forces, commonly known as the Green Berets, which he did, on Monday, May 9th, 1962. His family tells me that the proudest day of his life was when he was awarded his Green Beret.
Deployed to Vietnam, now Staff Sargent Jonathon Watts, was a member of a 12-man team responsible for the training of local South Vietnamese troops. The training included the operation of heavy weapon machine guns, mortars, etc. His team was supported by a division of the ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam.)
His letters home did not speak of the violence and killing, but rather the ways he learned to preserve life and to aid others. He wrote of the privilege of working with men who shared his dedication and belief that freedom doesn’t come to those who wish for it, but to those who work for it. He did not speak negatively about the Vietnamese, but rather their courage to die or be mutilated for their right to self-determination, free from fear or coercion.
He became missing on the 16th of May 1963 while aboard an aircraft doing visual reconnaissance over a hotly contested area a few miles from the Cambodian border. The aircraft disappeared and no trace of it, or those aboard, has ever been found.
For J. T.’s family and all the families of those unaccounted for, any news has been agonizingly slow. 50 years after the war, they have no closure, still holding out hope that someday, somehow, they might learn exactly what happened, and be able to bring their loved one home and bury them under their native soil.
The search continues in Vietnam, but time passes, memories fade, the jungle grows, and the land only begrudgingly gives up its secrets.
Total of missing; 2,641
Accounted for; 1,163.
Remains repatriated; 890.
UNACCOUNTED FOR; 1,578
In a modest home in a suburb of Allentown Pennsylvania, J. T.’s family continues to pray for answers. On the mantle above the fireplace are several framed pictures. In one, J.T. and his platoon are in full combat gear, slogging through the mud in a rice paddy. In another, he is shirtless and smiling with his buddies, standing by a helicopter. The one that grabs your attention though, he is in his uniform and wearing the newly earned green beret, young and handsome, eyes sparkling and smiling from ear to ear, like this was the best day of his life.
Lonnie McKelvey
is a freelance writer living in Fort Payne, Alabama.
He is a regular contributor to Grandparents Day Magazine.
