Letter to an MCB 11
Friend, Cliff Mullen (CET 3,) In His Grave for the Past 48 Years
By: Ted Lyman (CEP 3,
Dong Ha, Quang Tri)
February 4, 2016
Dear Mullen,
I’ve been thinking about you a lot ever since this past Veteran’s Day.
It’s been 48 years since we last talked and 47 years since you
died from your Vietnam injuries. I just saw you (well, your grave) a few
months ago. It was while on a road trip in my old car—a bucket list
thing-- a road trip the length of old Route 66 from the Santa Monica
Pier south of where I live in the SF Bay Area to Chicago.
They call it America’s Road and I took it all in—especially
America as it was in the 20s and 30s. While on the road, I checked with
a couple of the guys from our Bravo Company squad, Decker and Bagnell.
They both say hi. |
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You don’t know it but they both live on old Route 66. Ben is in SoCal’s Rancho Cucamonga and Bags is in El Paso, Illinois. I remembered that you lived in Cuba, Missouri, also on Route 66 so I planned this trip around a visit with you guys. |
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When I rolled into your town on old 66, I told myself that I had to find your grave. As you know, it is a pretty small town, only 3,200 people these days. How was I going to find you when all I knew was that you were “outside of town” somewhere? My luck, the local VFW there in the center of town had a party going on that Sunday afternoon. The flag was snapping in the wind and there were a bunch of good old boys standing around outside grilling hamburgers—picture the scene. I drove up next to them in my old car, bright red and with California plates--pretty much stopped the show. As they looked at me suspiciously, I told them my story--on a road trip, visiting Vietnam buddies, looking for a grave…the first thing they said was “how about a beer? Perfect. With that, we were off and running. |
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They wanted to know everything, but I wanted to find your grave. One guy
said he thought that they had a Mullen enrolled in their Council. Sure
enough a Bill Mullen was on their books and that he lived way outside of
town. But this was my lead.
With directions, off I went--getting lost, asked questions,
turned around, lost again. But finally there it was, the Lickey Creek
Graveyard those guys mentioned and your gravestone.
Nice touch that the Navy provided the plaque and included your Seabee
rating. I spent some time with you telling you what I’ve been up to for
the past half century or so. When it was finally time to move on, I got
back onto the pavement and then remembered that the VFW guys said that
Bill Mullen lived nearby, up a road with a ranch gate having two boots
hanging under it. Now, I
told JoAnne that I wasn’t planning on stopping in your town because she
was worried that I might stir up some old, not great memories. But when
I saw the Two Boots Ranch gate and that it was open, I went to a
different place. I knew that up that road was a man named Mullen and
maybe I would at least see where you grew up. |
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Off I went, seven miles of gravel, across the creek with a concrete
apron and up the long hill.
Ahead was a house, and a car.
What to do? I couldn’t stop. On up I went, making a lot of noise
for sure (“hello, hello, in from California, looking for a friend’s
grave, hello,) worried that this was a good way to get shot. Just as I
got to the house a small, old man came out.
He barked “what do you want”-- and I started to talk, fast. “My
name is Ted Lyman, I’m on a Route 66 road trip from California, I found
my buddy’s grave right over there on that hillside.”
The man paused a long time, gathered his thoughts and said
“Cliff was my brother.”
The hair rose up on my arms,
along with the goose bumps and a tear on my face.
Cliff, your brother’s now 81 and he is a very cool guy.
We talked for hours. When I left, he told me that he couldn’t
believe that some guy from California just drove up in front, miles off
the asphalt, and that he was here to talk to you 48 years after you
died. You need to know that he was very, very happy to meet me, and I
him. |
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He said “what are you
doing so far from California?” I told him my story--on a road trip,
hooking up with Vietnam buddies, found a grave… “whose
grave?” When I answered,
“Cliff Mullen’s grave” he paused for a long time putting his thoughts
together. He looked at me
and said “you won’t believe it but Cliff Mullen’s other brother Phil
would be sitting right there, where you are, but he is out of town this
morning.” I learned from
Patrick, that he has been a close friend of your family for decades and
that the large Mullen clan has never forgotten you and that your mother
made it to your bedside just before you signed off.
Did you know that she lived to be 103 and that her fresh
gravesite is right next to yours? |
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We could have talked for longer but I was anxious to get back on the
road so I gave Patrick my card and left town.
While on the road, your brother Phil called.
He was really sorry to have missed me and said that he and your
brother Bill were absolutely delighted that some guy from California
just dropped by to say hi to you 48 years after you passed. He said the
whole town was buzzing about this and asked “Is there any chance you can
come back?" I was anxious
to get to Bags’ place and spend a day on things that he had planned so I
declined. Cliff, I will
stay in touch with your family--they are terrific folks.
Remembering you,
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