06 Jun 2007 Steven Russell Peck was our first child and his death in combat broke our hearts. The only thing that pulled us through was our knowledge that he was a Christian and that we would see him again. That and our other two children were the comforts that saw us through. The knowledge that Steven was doing what he wanted to do and had chosen to do by enlisting gave us strength also. He and his younger brother had played war games all of their youth. They loved Battleship, Strategy, Stalingrad, and all sorts of games which used military strategy as their background. He had won scholarships in his high school and could have gone on to college but he chose instead to enlist before he graduated, finished classes on Thursday, and left for the service on the following week. He said he felt he had a duty to serve his country and would go to college after he got back. He excelled in his military career, going through Intelligence School, Vietnamese language school, helicopter training, etc. He was good enough that it was suggested that he stay at Fort Bliss and train further helicopter pilots but he refused, saying he didn't feel qualified to train them to fly in combat when he had no actual experience. He wrote us letters while in Vietnam saying that he still felt he was doing the right thing. His many medals tells us that he did his job of flying helicopters in combat well. His family is very proud of his life and proud that he gave his life fighting for the nation he loved. His favorite poem was "IF" by Rudyard Kipling and his favorite song had lyrics which spoke of 'reaching the unreachable star'. This typified my son and his very life. He is gone but will live on forever in our hearts. Terry, my son, took me to see Steve's name on the Vietnam Memorial in DC just two weeks ago for the fourth time. It is the nearest thing to once again being able to touch my Steve..... From his mother, Betty Jo Peck bjpeck1@verizon.net

 

06 Jun 2007 Steve was much beloved by his family. He was a good boy and man, later. I remember when his grandmother bought his first pair of hard-soled shoes and how he stiffened his legs and cried until they were removed. He became accustomed to them little by little and learned to walk in them. After that, there was no holding him back. I was 13 when Steve was born. When he was about two years of age I'd put him on the handlebars of my bike and we'd soar down the steep hill which began a block above my house. He and I enjoyed many summer days back then. Later, when I was a single mother and went out for an evening Steve babysat my children. He was 16. They thought he was great so they didn't miss me at all. Little did we know then that we only had a few more short years with him. Although his family has missed him all these years since 1971, we are proud of Steve's service to his country. He is our hero! His younger brother went on to make a career in the military and each time he received a promotion, he'd tell his mother that it was for Steve, too. Our family was never the same after Steve's death but we have assurance we will see him again in Heaven. His Aunt Mary Mary L. Terry E-mail address is not available.

 

A Note from The Virtual Wall Warrant Officer Steven Peck served with with D Troop, 3/5 Cavalry, at that time operating in Quang Tri Province adjacent to the DMZ. According to the Vietnam Helicopter Pilots' Association database, WO Peck had qualified as an instructor pilot and was giving an in-country checkride to CW2 Richard Rossiter. While flying near the Rockpile north of Cam Lo Peck was hit by .51 caliber gunfire. Although Rossiter brought the aircraft back to base, WO Peck died from his injury. IF If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too, If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master, If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much, If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son! - Rudyard Kipling - THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM To dream the impossible dream To fight the unbeatable foe To bear with unbearable sorrow To run where the brave dare not go. To right the unrightable wrong To love pure and chaste from afar To try when your arms are too weary To reach the unreachable star. This is my quest To follow that star No matter how hopeless No matter how far. To fight for the right Without question or pause To be willing to march into Hell For a heavenly cause. And I know if I'll only be true To this glorious quest That my heart will lie peaceful and calm When I'm laid to my rest. And the world will be better for this That one man, scorned and covered with scars Still strove with his last ounce of courage To reach the unreachable star. From "Man of La Mancha" Lyrics by Joe Darion Music by Mitch Leigh Copyrighted Reproduced under 17 USC ï¿ 1/2 107

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