Swimmer of Old Glory

I am the proud son of Darren Beckett, a Navy Veteran. For twenty years, my father served our great nation as a man of steel, and his conviction never wavered. He, like all other Veterans, is an embodiment of a greater service. A righteous soldier does not serve his country, his cause, or his religion; he does not serve for pride or vanity; he does not serve to make himself feel better. A true soldier serves only freedom, and comes at her call. My father is a swimmer of Old Glory.

Darren Beckett grew up watching old war movies. While other kids were parading around proclaiming Captain America or Superman as their hero, he revered characters like Clint Eastwood, Charlie Sheen, and John Wayne. Having come from a family deeply immersed in the ranks of the military, it is not hard to see why this man so commonly thought of enlisting someday. Family members enlisted at that time included two uncles from his mother’s side, his eldest brother Leonard (Army), and his third eldest Douglas, who enlisted in both the Army and the Navy. His father however, was denied right to join, not because of being weak or being a criminal. He was not able to enlist because of Polio in his leg, but never did it dampen his patriotic spirit.

Darren enlisted in January of 1992 at Jacksonville, Florida. It wasn’t until September of that year that he entered service. As soon as he entered, he was sent to Orlando, Florida for boot camp. He decided even before boot camp that he was going to be a rescue swimmer.

When asked what helped him through boot camp, he said, “My mom and my sister, Connie, had sent me this funny little postcard that had a frog down a stork’s throat while the frog was strangling the bird as it went into its mouth. The caption was “Never give up!” Also with it was a book of poems by Johan. Every day I would read a poem, and it always rose my spirits.”

From boot camp, Darren was transferred to Aircrew School, then to Water Survival School, both for a combination of 5 weeks. Finally he found his desired destination, Aviation Rescue Swimmer School. He was enrolled there for about a month and a half before he was sent to Navy A School for six months where he learned what is was like to be in the Navy. From there he went to Fleet Replacement Aircrew School for another six months in Jacksonville, Florida. Finally, he was enrolled in SERE School, which is Survive, Evade, Resist, and Escape, where he was taught what to do if he was MIA. He was there for two weeks.

Darren was then first stationed in Patuxent River, Maryland. While in Maryland, he had to conduct two SARs in which he had to have a Norwegian ship captain airlifted from his ship due to seizures, and another incident in the Chesapeake Bay where a cargo ship had sunk. In 1998, he was sent on deployment to Bahrain for six months, then sent back to the states to be stationed in Norfolk, Virginia. Darren then served another two detachments to Bahrain for a year.

When he returned again, he was sent back to Aviation Rescue Swimmer School, this time to be an instructor for about three years. Darren was then stationed back in Norfolk at HSC-2, then the Fleet Angels at HSC-26, then again at HSC-WSL Helicopter Sea Combat School-Atlantic. There he remained until he retired in 2012.

In 2009, Darren was sent to Fallon, Nevada. He was there for a short time just for helicopter training, but on a training flight, the tail rotor caught on a power line. The tail was ripped from the aircraft, and the helicopter went down. All my father could think of as he crawled out of the wreckage was his son.

No one was hurt in the crash. The pilot’s bold tactics and quick thinking saved them. The second the tail rotor was torn from the aircraft, the pilot shut off the engine. Doing so slowed the rotation of the main rotor. As the helicopter descended, the air caught the blades of the rotor and slowed the descent. Luck was with the crew that day.

As I finished the interview with Darren, one last question tugged at me. When I asked Darren if the opportunity arose to where he could enlist again if he would. Absolutely.

“I am the flag of the United States of America
My name is Old Glory.

I fly atop the world’s tallest buildings.
I stand watch in America’s halls of justice.
I fly majestically over great institutes of learning.
I stand guard with the greatest military power in the world.
Look up! And see me!

I stand for peace, honor, truth, and justice.
I stand for freedom.
I am confident . . . I am arrogant.
I am proud.

When I am flown with my fellow banners,
my head is a little higher,
my colors a little truer.

I bow to no one.
I am recognized all over the world.
I am worshipped.
I am saluted.
I am respected.
I am revered. I am loved.
And I am feared.

I have fought every battle of every war for more than 200 years…
Gettysburg, Shilo, Appomatox, San Juan Hill, the trenches of France,
the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome, the beaches of Normandy,
the deserts of Africa, the cane fields of the Philippines,
the rice paddies and jungles of Guam, Okinawa, Japan, Korea, Vietnam,
and a score of places long forgotten by all but those who were with me.

I was there!

I led my soldiers.
I followed them.
I watched over them…
They loved me.

I was on a small hill in Iwo Jima.
I was dirty, battle-worn and tired,
but my soldiers cheered me,
and I was proud.

I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries
I have helped set free.
It does not hurt . . . for I am invincible.
I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my country,
and when it is by those with whom I have served in battle . . . it hurts.
But I shall overcome . . . for I am strong.

I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stand watch over the uncharted new frontiers of space
from my vantage point on the moon.

I have been a silent witness to all of America’s finest hours.
But my finest hour comes
when I am torn into strips to be used for bandages
for my wounded comrades on the field of battle.
When I fly at half mast to honor my soldiers…
and when I lie in the trembling arms
of a grieving mother at the graveside of her fallen son.

I am proud.
My name is Old Glory.
Dear God . . . Long may I wave!”

It is an honor to celebrate my father’s career and this Sunday there will be an opportunity to honors the lives of other veterans…