My clearest memory of my Uncle Jerry is from the time we drove up to Michigan for my grandmother's funeral. The whole family that came from out of town was staying in this crappy motel by the church. My sister and I had just woken up, with a pair of boys boxers and t-shirts when Cousin Jeff comes to our room with my uncles and cousins and just wails on the door. When we didn't answer fast enough for them they pelted the outside of our room with snowballs. My parents, both dressed, opened the door as my Uncle Jerry threw a snowball inside the room. That's what happened at that moment from my parent's perspective. From mine, it was a direct act of war. You see, that snowball not only came inside the room, but whizzed right by my tiny bare legs as i stood next to the end of the bed. Two inches to the right and it would've hit. At six years old, I had made my revenge list with my Uncle Jerry at the very top. We named it, appropriately, "The Snowball List".
On my dad's side, I have my Uncle Jerry and my Uncle Jim. Uncle Jim's still kicking, and, lucky for me, so's my dad. My Uncle Jerry wasn't as fortunate. At 69, he died of prostate cancer from the Agent Orange in Vietnam. I didn't know he was in Vietnam till he was visiting on his way to a reunion with other veterans. Even then I didn’t know what exactly that meant. My uncle's outlook on the draft coming for him was why get drafted, get quick training that wouldn't help in the situation, and then be sent straight to 'Nam, when I can enlist now and get a proper job and know what I'm doing? He enlisted in the United States Army and was one of the best in his class and became a Green Beret. Of course, like most men, he wanted to be demolition and blow up the Vietcong. But, somehow, my uncle's test scores were too high and he was sent to medic school. Then he was sent to places near Vietnam the government said we weren't in like Cambodia and Loa. There my uncle fought and had some very close encounters.
When he got back, having earned a bronze star for his heroism and selflessness, he had trouble getting back into civilian life. My dad always tells when I bring up PTSD in my studies about the first football game him and my uncle Jerry went to when he got back from the war. A lot of colleges shoot off a cannon when they get a touchdown, including the University of Michigan. First touchdown in the game, cannon goes off, and my dad looks over to find my uncle had hit the deck and covered his head, thinking it was enemy fire. My uncle got help for his PTSD, although I don’t know when exactly he decided to. What I do know is my uncle Jerry felt hopeless about it for a while till his therapist told him to write down his memories. That seemed to be working for him the last time I saw him, at least, that's what he told my dad. But the newest problem I found out about the last time I saw my uncle Jerry was his prostate cancer. The doctors assumed it was from the Agent Orange in Vietnam, since that's what had happened to other soldiers too. In his last few years on the earth, he complied and completed the stories from the therapy, had a friend help him edit and make it a story, and published it as Bac Si, A Green Beret Medic's War in Vietnam. My uncle wrote simply in my copy: To Kaylee- this is my story. Love, Uncle Jerry. In the end of the book, he wrote that his cancer had been defeated and he was in recovery. I didn't read that part till last year.
My uncle's cancer came back shortly after the book was punished and was terminal. I was at a wrestling tournament when I got the call. On November 14, 2014, Jerry Krizan passed away at 69 years old. I flew down in one of the worst winter storms Michigan had in a couple years, Jerry's last snow ball thrown. I didn’t get the adult relationship I'd hoped to with him, but I'm lucky enough to still have my uncle Jim and my dad to tell me stories about his many years on this earth. And when I can't hear them tell me his stories, I will always have his story to read over and over. If you go to Norwich University, there's a signed copy of his book in the library. If not, his book is on Amazon for you to read. My only hope is that the things he did live on through the years to come, and people learn of the hero he was.
