Steve A. Srsen
January 25, 1947- January 27, 1967
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| Do you have any heroes? Have you ever thought about it? When the "man-on-the-street" is asked about heroes, he usually names the President, a talented sports figure, or a currently popular rock singer. These people are well-known and may be very good at what they do, but few of them are heroes. To be a hero, someone must take a great personal risk or make a significant sacrifice for the benefit of others. Some of us go through life without having a hero. Many of us feel that our mother or father is our hero. This is as it should be, and I can only hope that my children will feel that way about me. But there are few "capital H" Heroes in our lives. I was lucky enough to know one. Steve Srsen and I grew up together in San Lorenzo, California during the ‘50s and ‘60s. Steve was only a couple of months younger than I, but was a grade behind me in school, so we tended to be "acquaintances" rather than "friends". We were in Cub Scouts together and played on the same Little League team. Steve was a skinny little kid and was not blessed with athletic talent. He was friendly with everyone but he was a bit awkward and he had an innocence that left him exposed to the cruel teasing that youngsters inflict upon one another. In grade school I saw him taunted and teased, and though it must have hurt, his reaction was usually a smile, even though he was the victim of the joke. By today’s standards, Steve might have used his experiences as an excuse to become reclusive, turn to drugs, or take a gun to his tormentors. But times were different, and so was Steve. His father told of the day when Steve came home bloodied and bruised. He had seen some bigger, older boys picking on a younger one. Aware of the risk to himself, Steve didn’t hesitate to step in and protect the smaller boy. I regret that I didn’t do the same when I witnessed the bullies harassing Steve. I don’t remember ever being one of Steve’s tormentors, but I do remember seeing him in trouble and not lifting a hand to help him. In high school, Steve chose wrestling as his sport. I think he felt that wrestling gave him a chance to test himself, one-on-one against others. When he graduated, he joined the Marine Corps, knowing full well that the war in Viet Nam was escalating and that the odds were very good that a Marine private would end up fighting in the jungle. That’s the way Steve was. On January 27, 1967, two days after his twentieth birthday, Steve was wounded by an enemy grenade. He was to be sent to the rear, and safety, but Steve refused to leave his unit. A short time later that day, in another grenade attack, Steve pushed a fellow Marine to the ground, saving his life, and, in so doing, received mortal wounds from grenade fragments. For his heroism, Steve posthumously received the Navy Cross, the medal second only to the Congressional Medal of Honor. Over the years, I have often thought of Steve. Recently, I think about him nearly every day. Steve Srsen was a true Hero. He is my hero. I only hope that if I ever face a life-or-death situation, I will be half the man that Steve was. If your children ever ask you for the definition of a "capital H" Hero, bring them here. Tell them about Steve Srsen. --Don Goard-- |
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