Red, White and True Blue

by Dan Chason

I have been very blessed in my life with strong male role models. Of all the role models I ever had, excluding my dad and grandfather, all of these men had one thing in common: They were all veterans.

The first I recall was a man I met in the 70s at summer youth camp. His name was Rev. Everett Johnson, or Bro. J as we called him. He was the camp cook. What I learned was that he was a cook in the Navy during World War II assigned to, of all things, a submarine. Bro. J never talked about his military service and there was always a quiet that came over him anytime it was mentioned. I took it as remembering lost shipmates or bad memories and never pushed it. Until just this week, I never knew why but now I understand.

Bro. J was a world class bass fisherman. He taught me how to make my own spinnerbaits and took me to Lake Bruin to learn how to catch striped bass. He and his best buddy, H.B. Roark (West Monroe Postmaster for years) were notorious when it came to their catches on Bayou DeSiard at night and on Bruin. They are the reason I started night fishing with H.B.’s nephew and my lifelong best friend, Jon Miller. Bro. J gave us some spinnerbaits and with some good advice, Jon and I had some memorable trips there. I never go into a tire place I don’t think about Bro. J as he would get the biggest smile on his face when I would show up with a bucket of tire weights to make spinnerbaits. He was one remarkable man. Just how remarkable brings me back to his service time. His daughter Ashley told me that the submarine that he was assigned to in World War II was set to sail. Bro. J was medically prevented from boarding due to a horrible skin condition. On that mission the submarine went missing and all of his shipmates were lost. She said that Bro. J never talked about it and to this day the family knows very little. But that issue was never lost to Everett Johnson’s memory.

Another remarkable veteran I will never forget is Ray Niswanger. Mr. Ray and I became friends and I count the trips to Lake Fork and Toledo Bend with him to be some of the fondest I have ever experienced. Mr. Ray was a “Fighting Seebee” in World War II. He, like Bro. J rarely talked about the war. One thing I do recall is that he was talking about soldiers and wars one day and said, “Son, I’ll tell you one thing about war. If you didn’t know the Almighty before you got on the battle field, you dang sure introduced yourself to Him once you got there.” Mr. Ray was a devout Christian and never waivered from his strong beliefs. What I loved about him was that he never minced his words. He would lean back, grab a handful of his red suspenders and say what was on his mind. One incident I recall was on Lake Fork. Mr. Ray did NOT like going fast in a boat. I had a 20 foot Champion with a 225 on it that would fly. So we are easing down the lake and I started trimming it up, then up again until we were pushing 65 mph. I looked over and Mr. Ray had both eyes closed and was looking to the heavens. When I stopped, I asked him if he enjoyed the ride. I’ll never forget his response as we had traveled there in his motor home which were our sleeping arrangements: “Boy, let me tell you something. I ain’t going to get to heaven’s gates and have ole’ Saint Pete ask me how I got there for me to explain that I was taken while riding a rocket ship on water. Now you can slow this thing down to a slower pace, or tonight you will sleep in the parking lot!” After that trip, when we went fishing we went in Mr. Ray’s boat and he drove. Quite a man and a good friend I miss dearly.

One of the highlights of my life is something that my landowner and I do for active military. For the last 5 years, I entertain members of special ops and special forces. We go hunting, fishing and have some very memorable times. One of these service members is Mofer. We don’t reveal their real names as they all go by code names. This serves to protect them as many SEAL Team members still have bounties on their heads from past missions. Mofer comes to my place at least twice a year. He is active duty in the SEAL teams and has become to refer to me as “my brother from another mother.”

The first time Mofer came, he brought along his spotter, Viper. We walked down to a creek to cross over to a sweet spot to deer hunt. This creek is all of two feet deep in the winter. As we approached the creek, I raised my fist (signal to stop). You have to picture these two full camo, face paint the whole nine yards, very intimidating to say the least. I reached into my back pack and handed them each a package. I whispered “Don’t want you to drown” as both frogmen open up their packages of kid’s swimming floaties. I have never seen two men laugh so hard in my life. Our relationship was sealed then, but it got better. On Mofer’s next trip, I had a knee problem, and I could barely walk. He showed up on a cold morning with ice on the water. We had to cross a small ditch to get the stand and I had on hip waders. I told him to climb on my back and I’d carry him across. After much chiding he did, only to have Viper take a picture of him on my back with a caption that hung in their team room: Old Seals
Improvise.

The one common denominator of all of these men are the pure patriotism they carry. I love them as friends and respect them for what they do. Our independence is secure due to the men and women who serve and have served. We owe you a great debt of gratitude. Happy Independence Day.