I didn’t know Clifford Carlisle. I knew people that knew him and I’d seen him in the halls of Goddard High School in the short time I was there. He was always happy and energetic it seemed. I do remember the vivid and hilarious image of him hanging out on the sidewalk of the Main Street Cruise a few weeks before he left for the Marines boot camp. He was goofing around, wearing bright red Bermuda Shorts, a straw cowboy hat and boots, with an unbuttoned open western shirt. He was a funny guy with loads of confidence. He was excited to become a soldier. We were excited for him too, and damn proud.

I just happened to get back in town a few years later the very weekend after he’d been killed on a training mission. The story was that a Mortar Rocket Launcher had malfunctioned and was blowing up his platoon. He was in the clear but went into the danger zone to save his fellow soldiers and was hit by a shell. He was described as dying in the most heroic way possible, saving lives.

As far as I’m concerned, it’s all true. He was a hometown hero and it would be unthinkable to believe he died for nothing. And it doesn’t hurt anyone to embellish a little. He would’ve eventually done something great anyway. Probably.

I remember the dominating sadness. It seemed like the whole town was grieving his death. My best friend knew him well since he was in the same grade above me. We heard a buzz on Main Street about a memorial going on so we drove out to Clifford’s parents house where he used to live.

It was out in the country in an old single wide trailer house at the end of a rough dirt road. The trailers with multi level roofs and odd shaped windows. There was an iced down keg on tap in a big trash can to drink a beer in tribute to Clifford. Many of us were under age but knew even the cops wouldn’t mess with this. There might’ve even been one or two out there. There was a circle of people of all ages around the keg under a rustic, dilapidated front porch patio roof. The uneven wood planked floor creaked as you stepped. Some of his family members were sitting in scotch pattern weaved ribbon aluminum lawn chairs, their worn faces flickering in candlelight, greeting all the people coming to pay their respects. Usually with nothing more than a smile and a nod. There was some rumbling in the yellow orangish glow through a door leading into the kitchen and into the house. I could sense others were too broken with pain and tears to see anyone. Especially strangers. There was silence, then soft spoken words of sorrow and respect. There were some memories and even a few laughs before turning back to sadness.

Over two hundred people had come out to visit. They were on the second keg by the second day. It made me wish I knew him before I got to know about him. We would’ve got along great. My friend and I drank our beer out of the red plastic cup, listened, spoke condolences, and left in a cloud of soupy sadness back down the rutted dusty road.

It was Saturday night but the town was quieter than any other Saturday night. There was a soft hum everywhere. The lights were dull. There weren’t any fights, or drag races, or even pointless hollering and whistling. No tires squealing and burning out. No girls laughing or boys cussing. It was a somber night until everyone just went home when it got late.

Clifford would’ve hated that sadness, but damn, it was powerful.

It’s been thirty five years since that day. I’m a little surprised there’s not an online memorial. Someone would’ve had to make one since there wasn’t an Internet when he died. I never got a yearbook from that school, but I assume he’s in a few. His best friends are getting older, some aren’t healthy, and some are gone, but I know they carry Clifford with them. Maybe pictures and pages don’t really matter all that much, but for me, it would’ve been nice to try and know him a little better. I didn’t know him, but I think about him often. How he had an entire town in mourning and how he was immediately missed. Even when he wasn’t even there. I think he deserves to be remembered, not as a hero or a soldier, but as someone everyone loved. He was felt in that town like no one I’d ever seen. He was his own monument.

Rest in peace, Clifford Carlisle, and thanks for the brewski.

Press Article from upi.com

Exploding mortar rounds killed two Marines and injured 15…

July 8, 1988

POHAKULOA MILITARY RESERVATION, Hawaii — Exploding mortar rounds killed two Marines and injured 15 others in a training accident during a live night-firing exercise, military authorities said Thursday.

An undetermined number of 60mm shells — but more than one — landed among a platoon from Weapons Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment Wednesday night, Maj. Kerry Gershaneck, a Marine spokesman, said.

It was not known if the shells were misdirected as a result of human error or a mechanical malfunction, and an investigation into the incident was under way, Gershaneck said.

‘The weapons company was supporting an infantry company, which was conducting a ‘final protective fire’ exercise,’ Gershaneck said.

The operation involved firing all of the company’s weapons in an effort to stave off an attack by an enemy threatening to overrun its position, Gershaneck said.

The accident occurred at about 8 p.m. at the Pohakuloa Training Facility on the Island of Hawaii, where about 600 soldiers are taking part in a 30-day exercise.

The two Marines killed were Gunnery Sgt. Howard Harris, 34, of Philadelphia and Cpl. Clifford Carlisle II, 21, of Roswell, N.M., Gershaneck said.

Seven of the 15 injured Marines were released from hospitals Thursday after being treated.

Four Marines still hospitalized on Hawaii Island were flown to Tripler Army Medical Center on the island of Oahu, where four other Marines were taken earlier. All eight were in stable condition.

The company is normally assigned to Kaneohe Marine Corps Air Station on the island of Oahu.

The weapons company has heavy machine guns, wired-guided missiles and 81mm mortars among its arsenal. It usually operates as support for the infantry company, which is equipped with lighter weapons, such as the 60mm mortar.

The Marine Corps said relatives wishing to inquire about the status of Marines injured in the accident may call 808-257-2778. The duty officer will not release any names and will only provide status reports on names provided to him