A1C Jim March, U.S. Air Force (1964-1967)

USAF Airman’s Medal

Stationed at Lackland AFB in San Antonio, Texas, social opportunities for a young Airman were somewhat limited. My mode of transport was a Vespa motorscooter — not designed to attract young ladies. One Saturday evening, while driving back to the base, I passed by an establishment known as a Texas Ice House. Such establishments were a combination of local delis, local bars, and weekend party sites, serving primarily the Tex-Mex community. Since it was a warm summer evening, there was also dancing to a Mariachi band on the front porch. I decided to stop and check it out.

It was quickly obvious that I was, apparently, the lone “Gringo”, and my presence was viewed with great suspicion. However, within about 15 minutes, I was approached by another non-Latino man who turned out to be an AF Captain also stationed at Lackland. Bart, as it turned out, was one of about a half-dozen gringos who were known, liked, and accepted by the regular social crowd at the Ice House. Bart, his wife, and his three children became close off-base friends.

One weekend, Bart asked me to accompany him and the children to a local swimming hole created by a high-water crossing bridge on a local stream. The bridge was basically a concrete one-lane road across the stream with a large culvert pipe in the middle to allow the stream delayed passage. Swimming was common on the up-river side, where the water backed up to be deep enough to swim. I was elected to be a “lifeguard” while his children were swimming.

Apparently, this swimming hole was well known by many of the local families. While Bart & I watched his children, another couple of families arrived to swim; one such family included members from toddlers to grandmothers. As Bart’s children exited the water and began to dry off, I heard a yell from the direction of the bridge. Turning, I saw a man running toward the bridge, and then a head bobbed up in the rushing water on the down-river side of the bridge culvert. I guess my head was still in “lifeguard” mode because, without thinking, I took off running and took a racing dive off the bridge into the shallow downstream water toward the floating toddler. The child’s father was trying to wade after the child and was about 20 feet before me. We both reached the child simultaneously, about 300 feet downstream. I grabbed the child and held its head down, hoping that any inhaled water would be encouraged to drain out. We were rewarded with a loud shriek and crying. Great sounds! I passed the infant up to Bart, and then the father & I pounded each other’s backs in congratulation since Spanish was not my best language.

Other than a lost wristwatch and a rock cut on my foot, I was in great shape and returned to base after Bart’s wife applied first-aid to the cut, reckoning it to be just another adventurous outing with Bart & family.

About a month later, our unit commander assembled his usual monthly Commander’s Call. Unexpectedly, he called my name to come forward. Having done so, he proceeded to read a declaration outlining the events described above and presented me with the Airman’s Medal. Apparently, Bart had decided to submit his observations of the events which precipitated the award. It made up for the lost wristwatch!

Read the Military Memories of our Runner-Ups.