A Memorial Day tribute to a fallen comrade – “Arnie Nakkerud, You Are Not Forgotten”

An Ace of Spades reader sent me this touching essay written by her husband this Memorial Day to keep alive the memory of a fellow Army helicopter pilot who did not return from Vietnam.

I was a 20 year-old kid when I first met you at Ft. Wolters, Texas. We were both arriving to the base, young Army helicopter pilot cadets, class of 66-15. You were from Seattle and I was from a little coastal town, Hoquiam, in Washington State. Being from the same state is what we first had in common entering this new world of helicopter pilot training. That first meeting found us together through the checking-in process, being assigned rooms in the same barracks and attending classes together. We ran together when off-duty and also flew together during training.

We voluntarily held back a month after completing Fort Wolters training as our flight class was larger in numbers than Ft. Ruecker could accommodate. After that month of downtime, we arrived together with the class of 66-17 at Ft. Rucker, Alabama to complete our training. Through all of this, we continued as roommates, flying mates and running weekend trips to Panama City in my red 1963 Corvette. Memories of you, my friend, are many, some stories I can tell and some stories I will not tell.

To this day, your presence continues within me as a great friend who had a truly positive impact on my life and times while in the Army helicopter flight program.

You taught me how to be me and to open up and enjoy life. You taught me that in your presence, I was always laughing at your antics and wantings to bend the rules just enough to afforded us getting away with living the colors of life, closer to the edge. How many weekends we danced and drank the nights away on the beaches of Panama City, Florida.

I remember the trip one weekend when we hopped in the Corvette, top down just after being released Saturday morning. We skipped breakfast, threw some clothes in the back, topped off the gas tank and left Ft. Rucker for Panama City. We stopped in a small store for a quart of milk and a bag of Oreo cookies that we shared as our breakfast while driving south down the back roads. The weekend was ahead of us and we owned it!

A few miles down the road and in one of the dry counties, an old Sheriff pulled us over to check the car for alcohol. He found us drinking milk from a quart carton and finishing off a bag of Oreo cookies. We explained to him that we were helicopter flight cadets at Ft. Rucker and were on our way to spend the weekend at Panama City. The sheriff checked our milk carton for alcohol as that would have been the things young guys like us would do. But no. We were indeed telling the truth, milk and cookies.

There were many cars that day pulled off the road and being checked for alcohol. Folks were out of their cars as sheriff deputies checked their vehicles. The sheriff tipped his hat to us for being the "outstanding young men we said we were" and let us leave the line-up to get back on the road.

You and I laughed so hard several miles down the road when you pulled out the 5th of whiskey you had tucked under your seat. To this day, I still laugh about so many of those moments we shared.

The last time I saw you my friend was while placing a photo of you at the "Wall" in Washington DC, 2005. To this day, I weep as I am now.

I do look forward to the day when I do get to see you again. I am hopeful we are afforded the time to sit, talk and catch up on stories. Knowing you as well as I did here, I bet you have stories and stories to tell. You are not now nor never will be forgotten, my friend.

[buck.throckmorton at protonmail dot com]

posted by Buck Throckmorton at 12:25 PM

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