By Brenda Erdahl
Gary Stai is no hero. That’s what he tells people, but actions speak louder than words.
It was the spring of 1969 and Gary had been trudging through the jungles of Vietnam for much of the previous five months. Little more than a boy, he had been drafted by the U.S. Government to fight an enemy he didn’t know he had. His best friend, Gerry Goral had just relieved him from point duty, and he was walking in the relative safety of the rear of the second platoon when the shooting started. As the company lead, Goral went down almost immediately. Gary had known Goral for less than two months, but in the jungle two months can feel like two years. Hearing his calls for help, Gary rushed to his aid, but his platoon leader stopped him; it was too dangerous. Three times Gary asked to help his friend who lay curled on the open jungle floor and finally he was given permission. Taking only his “steel pot” (helmet) Gary crawled toward him, but the enemy was using him as a decoy and Gary was wounded himself. When Gary thinks of the day he lost his best friend, he doesn’t remember his heroics instead he sees Goral laying there and wonders if he had not given up walking point, would his friend still be alive.