1st Lt Walt Breede, USMC

For those reading who are not familiar with such fine distinctions, the Navy ROTC programs produce officers for both the regular and reserve components of the Marine Corps. At that time (1959-1963), a "regular" NROTC student received a 4-year scholarship and was required to serve four years on active duty - the active duty commitment was the same as that for graduates of the Naval Academy. In return for the scholarship, you had a longer active duty requirement and had the privilege of having "USMC" suffixed to your name. A "contract" member of the NROTC was not on a scholarship, had the same military training as those that were, and had a commitment to serve two years, as I recall, on active duty. Those commissioned in this manner were members of the reserve on active duty and had the label "USMCR" appended to their name. We all were midshipmen, but some were more-so than others. It was a social status hierarchy where NROTC regulars could look down their noses at NROTC contract students and midshipmen of the Naval Academy could look down their noses at everyone.

Walt was a graduate of the Naval Academy and thereby possessed certain credentials that gave him clearer title than I had to the label "USMC." Though I looked up to him because of that, I cannot remember a time when Walt acted as if there was any expectation on his part that I should do so.

We sailed (steamed, actually) to Okinawa together and were roommates at the Bachelor Officer's Quarters in Sukuran. It was there that Walt introduced me to the wonders of expensive scotch and cognac. And unless my memory has failed again, we and two or three other officers were in the same compartment aboard the Iwo Jima, LPH 2, as we sailed from Okinawa to Hong Kong, the Philippines and, inexorably, Vietnam.

Our biggest challenges aboard ship were staying awake and hiding our alcohol. Alcohol must not have been allowed aboard ship, considering the great care we took to conceal it. Regardless, our compartment was well stocked. We chilled our beer by inserting the cans up inside a vertical air conditioning tube that blew cold air out along the deck. There was an air conditioning duct in the overhead as well. When we removed the diffuser, we found another interesting cooling space. So we filled 35mm film cans with martinis, stored them in the overhead duct and replaced the diffuser.

In retrospect, it does seem like much our life then was in pursuit of booze. I suspect it was out of simple boredom rather than something more poetic like a desire to forget what we left behind or what we judged was ahead.

Operation Starlight, in August, 1965, was the first combat we saw. I don't remember seeing Walt after that. As an FO and Liaison Officer, most of my tour was spent with the infantry units that I supported. My guess is that Walt was similarly occupied.

Twenty years later I began to wonder about Walt and how he made it through Vietnam. And I marveled at how stupid it was of me not to keep in touch when I had the chance.

Walt has been found. I managed to do it by periodically querying the web using AltaVista. After trying many times over the past few years, I finally gave it the correct search argument at the right time and up popped two references to Walter J. Breede. With the help of a friendly webmaster, I've been able to contact him.