REUNION WITH A WAR BUDDY

John Adie visited his family only once in Arizona, it was 1980. Little did we realize what we would witness during that visit. We all knew that John served with the United States Marines in World War II. Of course Joan was always excited when her mother came to visit, this visit was even more exciting for her.

One day we went out to lunch and went to Monte's, in downtown Tempe. As we ate our meal John seemed a little distracted. Finally, he asked us for our attention, we all looked at him. Setting his knife and fork down  he spoke to Joan.

"You know that I was in the Marines in World War II", we all nodded yes. He continued, "Have you ever heard about Iwo Jima", again we nodded yes. "You know that I have never spoken about the war, but I have to tell you something now. The best friend I have, saved my life on Iwo. I'm not going into detail, it doesn't matter, I just wanted you to know, because he was from Phoenix and sitting here I have been thinking about him. If it wasn't for him, Joan, you would not be here today", he finished. You know John, a man of few words, but there it was. We all began to eat our meal again. I couldn't let it go, just like that.

"What was his name"? I asked nonchalantly.

"Gilbert Carbajal". He answered.

I think Joan asked him if he ever talked with him after the war. He said they wrote a couple of times, then Gilbert and his wife split up, he moved to California, and he never heard from him again.

Joan and I returned to work. We owned our own business at the time. A thought hit me as I sat at my desk, I opened the phone book and looked for Carbajal; no Gilbert's. There weren't many, maybe fifteen, I began dialing. One by one I explained why I was calling, and asked if they knew a Gilbert Carbajal who served with the Marines in World War II. One by one they all said, "no". I closed the phone book and pondered what I would do next. Rachel Archer, one of our seamstresses approached my desk.

"I couldn't help overhearing you on the phone", she apologized. "My husband went to school with a Gilbert Carbajal, in Morenci". Stunned I asked her if she could call her husband. She said yes; after a short conversation she hung up.

"Roy said that Gilbert was in the Marines in World War II. He is calling Gilbert's relatives in Phoenix, to see if he can get his phone number. He hasn't seen Gilbert in years." We waited for Roy to call back. After what seemed an eternity, the phone rang, I told Rachel to answer it. She spoke for a moment, wrote something on a piece of paper then hung up.

"Roy said Gilbert is living back in Morenci, here is his phone number. I hope this is your father in law's friend. I took the piece of paper with the phone number, picked up the phone and dialed. By now Joan was standing there, both her and Rachel watched as I dialed.

"Hello", a woman answered the phone.

"Hello, is Gilbert home", I asked politely, my voice was shaking, heart beating faster.

"No, Gilbert is at work", she answered.

"My name is Matt and I am calling from Phoenix. I'm looking for a Gilbert Carbajal that served with the Marines during World War II and was on Iwo Jima." I asked almost out of breath.

"Yes, Gilbert was in the Marines and on Iwo Jima", she confirmed.

"My father-in-law served with a Gilbert Carbajal", I told her.

"What is his name"?, she asked.

"John Adie"

"Oh, my God!" she yelled, "John Adie is in Phoenix, oh my God!" I looked at Joan and nodded. Excitement filled the sewing room as all the workers formed a small crowd around the desk.

"Gilbert stops home, when he comes in I will tell him to call, what is the number?"

I gave her the phone number at the house and said goodbye. Everyone was so excited. We decided to make it a surprise for John. I called him next.

He answered the phone at our house, "John, I am expecting a call at the house, when the guy calls tell him to call me at work." You know the saying, "you can't fool mother nature", well you can't fool John Adie either. "Why doesn't he call you at work?" he asked. I stuttered a little, "Ah, he doesn't have the number." Duh! I thought, couldn't I have thought of something better than that. He didn't pursue it further, but he knew something was odd, just didn't know what it was.

A little tidbit of information before the rest of the story. John actually had two buddies, Gilbert and Frank Nichols. John was a radio operator, forward observer for artillery. The three were a team. If you ever look at photos of Iwo Jima, you can pick out the radio teams. These were not wireless radios, the men had to run wire with them. One man carried the radio on his back, the other two carried the spool of wire which had a metal pipe that they put through the center of the spool and as they ran forward the wire was fed out of the spool, spinning on the pipe. John once told Joan that he had a jeep, on Iwo Jima the terrain of the beach prevented jeeps from landing early on in the invasion.

The three buddies called each other by nicknames; Gilbert was "Cisco", John was, "Hoss", and Frank was "Big Nick". Gilbert would joke with John about his New Jersey accent saying, "New Joysey", John would counter with a long drawn out, "Geeelbert", then they would laugh. 

The phone rang at the house; John answered.

"Hoss?" the voice on the other end said.

"Cisco"? John answered

"New Joysey", Cisco said.

"Geeelbert", John countered just like forty years had not passed.

When we arrived home after work, John told us about the conversation and said Gilbert was coming to Phoenix the next day. Morenci is about a four hour drive to Phoenix. We figured that he would arrive at about ten  to twelve o'clock the next day.

Everyone was up early the next morning. John had his coffee then began to pace. Our house on Catalina Drive had a dining room, family room, and living room. The dining and family room was one big room with no wall separating them. This area was separated from the living room by a wall with a doorway in the center. There were two large picture windows in the dining, family room, and one in the living room, allowing a complete view of the street. The blinds were opened on the three window; John paced back and forth from dining to living room watching an occasional car go by. At about 8:30 a pickup truck passed by the house very slowly, but didn't stop.

"I think that was him". John said standing at one of the windows, angling to watch the pickup as it went down the street. The truck turned around and headed back; it passed the house again without stopping. John was out the door, "that's him", he said again, as he headed down the driveway. The truck turned around again, sped up, and as it pulled to the curb the driver's door opened even before the truck came to a full stop. A man jumped out, and in a flash the two veteran's were shaking hands, a quick hug, then patting one another on the back. Later, Joan and I would reminisce how we never saw her father so overcome with emotion directed at a friend. He brought Gilbert into the house and introduced him to the family, first to Mary, then to Joan and I; then the older grandchildren.

One of John's experiences had come full circle. As a young man he went off to war. He returned, raised a family. Now forty years later he was able to complete a chapter in his life, renew an old friendship born out of war. We would be privileged to hear stories that we, maybe, would never have heard if it were not for his vacation to Phoenix. Over the next few hours we would learn of John's experience on Iwo Jima and the story of how Gilbert Carbajal saved his life and what happened to their  friend Frank Nichols.

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