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•   Johnny Played The Game With The 173rd Airborne Brigade        John Murl McDaid, also named after his father, was a tall and lanky guy. When you looked into his blue eyes, you saw a very old and strong soul. John was usually pretty quiet and sometimes it was hard to tell he was around. But, John was never a whiffer, and he was never afraid to speak up when he had something to say.        John was only 6 months younger than I. John, his brothers Gary and Jim, (his sister was a baby) and I attended the same one-room country schoolhouse, Sower's School, before all the country schools were annexed to the Ithaca Public Schools in 1961. With only 12 to 15 kids in the entire school, you got to know people fast and good. And, you had to behave yourself, because all the parents and families had known each other for decades and decades.        At first, it was rumored that John stepped on a landmine which brought him home. But I've heard from his commanding officer, Ray Sarlin, who has prayed every day since that he could be more like John ... level head always and no fear to do what is right.        John never stepped on a landmine. He was a cool, collected platoon leader who always knew what to do. The last time John was seen alive was when he was choppered out with several fatal wounds ... some of those wounds several days old ... and he had somehow managed to lead his platoon to safety and keep them alive. "Sgt. McDaid was a born leader and he led his platoon to safety with outstanding gallantry after being mortally wounded," said Ray Sarlin his Commanding Officer.        It's more than 30 years now since John lost all on earth but gained heaven. John is remembered with great pride and honor by his comrades of the 173rd Aiborne Brigade of the 50th Foot (Infantry Division) of the 1st Batallion, United States Army. And, John is remembered by me, Nancee Greenlee.        Before he joined the US Army, John already had a contract with the Majors. In only a few days from his return home from 'Nam, John would've passed by the "farm teams" and would've been playing ball with the Majors -- that was John, never a whiffer!        Oh, how I can almost see John pitching to the other team hoping to play Centerfield cold and swingin' for those bleachers in the Ninth Inning, and Johnny pitchin' those balls so fast and so hard that Catcher gets off his back in the dirt and realizes that aint a cloud of dust around his mit -- that's SMOKE from the heat of Johnny's send!        You are not forgotten, John, not ever, won't happen. Thank you for helping to keep me free Sergeant McDaid, J. M. Back To The Top

 

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