Paying tribute to a friend — Archie Whitt
To the editor:
This requiem is for Mr. Archie Whitt, a long-time Pine Islander, and a good friend and neighbor to many here on our island.
Archie passed away on Aug. 8, 2015, of C.O.P.D. But, as many of us know, the real cause of Archie’s death was a “broken heart” acquired many years ago in South Vietnam (PTSD).
How so you say? Well, Archie was raised in the high mountains of West Virginia (4-23-47) but found his greatest calling on a Vietnam mountaintop on Nov. 8, 1965, while serving with the 173rd Airborne Brigade, in a three-day hellish battle against 1,200 North Vietnamese Regulars and a quarter as many fellow paratroopers.
Immortalized by the song by Big and Rich, “The 8th of November, 1965,” some 48 fellow paratroopers died on taking that mountain top those three days, and many were close friends and comrades of Archie, thus a broken heart he never quite got over.
As others back home were celebrating “Woodstock,” Archie and his unit were enduring “Riflestock.”
Archie leaves behind Jacqueline (Little Bit) Whitt, the love of his life after many years of marriage. Also, a son, Billy Buck Whitt; a daughter, Tammy Lynn Whitt; two grandsons, Xavier Amed Whitt and Briant Whitt; and his beautiful granddaughter, Bailey Whitt.
In closing, please know that Archie’s last request was to make “one more jump.” This is now being planned and taken care of by his friends “Surveyor Mike,” Bucky and others at his favorite watering hole, the world renowned Ragged Ass Saloon. So please know that sometime in November, Archie’s ashes will be taken up some 13,000 feet and spread, as they free-fall as some 120 mph. This being in the finest tradition of Airborne paratroopers everywhere.
Also, Archie, please know that as your good, long-time friend, this old paratrooper is on a barstool at Ragged Ass Saloon.
I/we will, however, marvel at the especially magnificent golden shimmering sunset that your ashes create from the ground. As you break Earth’s surly bonds, and enter the gates of Heaven, Arch, please now accept a last word of advice from another “Airborne Brother,” time to let go my son, and come down, come back from that awful mountain top of so many years ago.
From us all, welcome home warrior.
Tom Pollock
Bokeelia