“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”  Proverbs 27:17

Throughout our journey of loss and learning, we have been strengthened and sharpened by many people who have also walked down the road of grief.  They have encouraged us and shown us what it looks like to live with faith, grace, and courage.  They have helped us along the road.  One of those people is Sarah’s second cousin, Stefanie Swindle Gall.  Today would be the 74th birthday of Stefanie’s first husband, Dennis Baird Gleason.

On April 15, 1969, Dennis and his entire crew (a total of 31 men) were aboard a U.S. Navy reconnaissance mission off the coast of North Korea when they were shot down by two North Korean MIG fighters over the Sea of Japan, ninety miles off the coast of North Korea.  At twenty-three years old, Stefanie was a widow with a six-month-old daughter.  This is her story.

Sakura – A Story of Healing by Stefanie Swindle Gall

Sakura, Sakura, blossoms waving everywhere.
Clouds of glory fill the sky.
Mist of beauty in the air,
lovely colors floating by.
Sakura, Sakura,
Let all come singing.

Sakura is the beautiful and haunting cherry blossom song of Japan, and while cherry blossoms in bloom are indeed lovely, I can never see them or think of them without sadness enveloping my soul. It is said that “the transience of the blossoms, the extreme beauty and quick death, has often been associated with mortality.” To me they symbolize the lives of sixty young people I knew, including my husband, who bloomed into exquisite human beings and then perished so tragically and suddenly. All of these deaths would occur in one year of my young life.

It was October of 1966 and, I had just turned twenty-one. I was newly married, ready for adventure and excited about my upcoming life in Japan.  It was a bright sunny day as I stood in the National Cemetery at Pt. Loma with my husband of less than a year, Dennis Baird Gleason, overlooking the beautiful sky blue waters of San Diego Bay. We were within a few weeks of leaving for Travis AFB in Northern California where we would fly to Japan, and Dennis would take a new assignment with the VQ-1 Squadron at Atsugi NAS. We were sightseeing before we left, camping out in the national parks, and working our way up to northern California.

I’ll never forget the moment as long as I live. I looked out to sea on that amazingly beautiful day, looked at the exquisite white markers against the backdrop of liquid blue and turned back to face my husband.  I said, “Dennis, isn’t this the most beautiful place to be buried?” He didn’t answer me. There was a long pause, and he gazed out at the brilliant blue waters.

“Oh, no Stef!” he said.  “If anything EVER happens, don’t let anyone see me after I’ve died.  Bury me at sea.”

When I left for Japan in October of 1966, I was filled with dreams. I had just turned twenty-one. The moment I landed in my new home, I fell in love with it. The scenery was exquisite. Mt. Fuji, the scenic coastlines and the magnificent Japanese gardens were breathtaking. And I was a newlywed, so much in love and so full of hope and joy. I never dreamt that in a very short time my life would be filled with so much sadness, so much death and so much horror.

My very own daddy had recruited Dennis into the Navy.  My dad knew Dennis wanted sea duty! But that was not to be. The U.S. Navy sent him to flight school, and eventually he was hand-selected to be in an elite group.  He was one of the “spies in the sky” who were involved in Cold War activity along the coast of North Korea and the USSR.

When I arrived in Japan, my husband was deploying to Vietnam frequently and would be gone four weeks at a time. So I decided to do something useful with my life and volunteer at the Zama-Sagamihara hospital as a Red Cross Worker. When I walked in on my first day I had no idea what I would see, hear, and smell. I had no idea of the wrenching stories I would be told or the pain I would witness. Our wounded American soldiers from Vietnam were transported there after being stabilized. I was asked to minister to young men who were horribly wounded. I wrote letters home, talked with them, smiled with them and encouraged them every way I possibly could. Many times they just needed someone to talk with. They often cried and asked me if anyone could ever love them again. Many who had girlfriends and wives were afraid to go home. “How can she love me like this?” they would ask. There were burn victims, those who had lost arms and legs, those who had been blinded, and those with horrible internal injuries. I walked into wards day after day where intestines were healing outside of bodies. I steeled myself before entering a ward and learned to smile in the face of emotionally fragile and horribly disfigured young men. I had no training. I was totally unprepared for such a heart wrenching experience. I just reminded myself that these young men needed someone who would listen to them and give them time. Each time my shift ended, I was empty. Nothing was left of me. And with all of this horror staring me in the face, I never dreamt anything would ever happen to my husband or those I knew and loved.

But that wasn’t to be! Dennis kissed our six month old baby and me goodbye one beautiful morning in April of 1969. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. I did not know his mission as secrecy was a way of life, and wives didn’t ask questions. His missions were top secret.  He had what they called a “Purple Clearance.” I took the baby over to my friend Sharon’s house that night for supper and had no idea of the shocking events that were unfolding off the coast of North Korea in the Sea of Japan.  It was April 15 – the Emperor’s birthday. Dennis, whose obsession with the sea never left him, was only three months from getting out of the Navy and going back to work on his masters and doctorate in Oceanography. We had already written the letters of application for graduate school. We had a six-month-old daughter, and we had made such wonderful plans for our future and our growing family!

On the evening of April 15, our good friend, Lt. Mike Asher, knocked on the door. Sharon answered and I stood up to greet him. Electricity went through Sharon’s and my bodies because Mike’s look told us he was delivering bad news. His head was down, he entered slowly and he looked sick! Sharon and I walked toward him.

“What happened?” we asked. Tony, Sharon’s husband and my husband Dennis were both deployed. Who would it be? Mike delivered the news quickly.

“Dennis and his crew were on a reconnaissance mission off the coast of North Korea.  They were shot down ninety miles out in neutral waters in the Sea of Japan by two MIGS flown by North Korean pilots.  We don’t know if there are any survivors.”  It was days before the men’s status was changed from MIA to KIA. Nothing could have been more torturous than that wait, but we had forewarning. The morning after we were notified of the plane going down we had a late season snowfall and woke up to snow blanketing the area; all of the exquisite cherry blossoms had perished.

We soon learned two bodies out of the thirty-one men had been recovered by the Soviets and turned over to the United States Military. At that moment I remembered Dennis’s request when we were at the cemetery in Point Loma, and I prayed, “Don’t let Dennis’s body be found. Grant his wish, Lord!  Let him be buried at sea. Let no man touch him. Let him rest in peace.”

While the U.S. Navy did not grant Dennis’s request for sea duty, our merciful God granted this good man’s wish, and Dennis’s body was never found. He remained ONE WITH HIS BELOVED SEA! A year and a half ago when my husband Dan and I were sailing in the Sea of Japan, we scattered edelweiss and rose petals in the water in Dennis’s memory.

August 11, 2015 my daughter, Susan, my husband Dan and our family and friends traveled to Arlington National Cemetery to participate in a memorial celebration honoring a great American, Dennis Baird Gleason, who gave his all for his country. The spies in the sky receive little recognition.  But those who love him and the other men who died that day, will NEVER FORGET. His memorial marker in Arlington is inscribed, Dennis Baird Gleason, 11/18/43-4/15/69, One With the Sea.

Experiencing so much death and grief profoundly changed my life at twenty-three years of age. I knew that this world lost many wonderful people who had so much to give. How I grieved for them and their incredible potential! I also knew that if each of us used our precious gift of life to make things better, this would be a much different world. That so many in this world waste their gift of life is heart breaking. From the loss of these dear ones, I felt an extreme obligation to do something positive with my life and experience to the fullest. I had learned that we are not guaranteed tomorrow, and we best tackle life with zest and fortitude, and I became voracious about life. I wanted it ALL. I wanted to love again. I wanted to have more children. I wanted to see more of this amazing world, and I wanted to dedicate my life to something bigger than I. Most of all I wanted to be a giver …not a taker.

I am so grateful that God, hearing the desires of my heart, felt they were worthy. My prayers took wing and they were granted. God gave me a lifetime love, my own precious children and grandchildren, the chance to travel the world, and He inspired me to dedicate my gift of life to help educate and inspire so many children in my community. It hasn’t all been easy. But it’s been worth it! For over the years my hundreds and hundreds of students and my wonderful husband and family have been my joy, my love and my inspiration! And they have also been my HEALING! My miraculous lifelong healing! And, Merciful God, How I needed it!

Thank you Stefanie for your courage and your example.  Thank you Dennis for your sacrifice.  Happy 74th Birthday Dennis Baird Gleason.