Heartbreaking obituary reveals a veteran’s ‘three lives: before, during and after Vietnam’

Roanoke.com ^ | December 20, 2019 | Brittany Shammas

[Perseverando]

William Ebeltoft shipped off to Vietnam a state championship-winning trap shooter, a quick-witted lover of parties and Schlitz beer, and able to relate as readily to gruff ranchers as he did to teens who watched him work on his motorcycle and clean his shotguns. He came home a different man.

Every so often, a newspaper publishes an obituary that will break your heart.

One of those ran this week, in Dickinson, N.D. (pop. 22,000)

William Ebeltoft, 73, was a war hero who "died 50 years after he lost, in Vietnam, all that underpinned his life."https://t.co/44JljzDSaG

— Bill Grueskin (@BGrueskin) December 17, 2019 Burdened by war memories he rarely shared, the North Dakota native and accomplished Army helicopter pilot struggled to regain his footing after he left the service in the early 1970s. After a period in which he seemed to have adjusted to the rhythms of civilian life, his drinking tipped into addiction. He suffered a series of psychotic episodes and spent nearly three decades in a Montana veterans home, where he lived in a sort of pleasant confusion, beloved by the staff who cared for him.

He died there on Sunday, 73 years old.

"It is difficult to write about Bill," his younger brother, Paul, wrote in an obituary. "He lived three lives: before, during and after Vietnam."

The poignant and unusually candid tribute was published Monday in the Dickinson Press, a small newspaper in a western North Dakota city of 25,000. But in its eloquent and affectionate telling of the impact of war in one man's life, the obituary resonated widely. It was shared across social media, bringing hundreds of emails to Paul's inbox from others who had lost something to war and prompting a story in the Forum News Service, a North Dakota news

[Perseverando]

His obituary:

William Ebeltoft

“Not everyone who lost his life in Vietnam died there.” The saying is true for CW2 William C. Ebeltoft. He died on December 15, 2019 at the Veteran’s Home in Columbia Falls, Montana. He died 50 years after he lost, in Vietnam, all that underpinned his life. He was 73 years old.

Everyone called him “Bill.” He was loved by the nursing staff who cared for him. He was loved by the fellow veterans with whom he lived; those he helped when he was able and entertained with funny German slang and a stint at the piano when he could. He was a virtuoso when playing “Waltzing Matilda.”

His small family loved him dearly. He was preceded in death by his parents, Paul and Mary Ebeltoft of Dickinson, North Dakota, whose devotion and care for their war-damaged boy was strong and unfailing. He is survived by his brother, Paul Ebeltoft, and the one he loved as the sister he never had, Paul’s wife, Gail. Both live in Corning New York. They will miss him every day. He is also survived by his nephews, Robert Ebeltoft of Brooklyn, New York and David Ebeltoft of Corning, New York. They both found Bill to be quirky, “old school,” soft hearted and generous. They valued their time with him and would have loved to have more, as would all who knew Bill well.

It is difficult to write about Bill. He lived three lives: before, during and after Vietnam. Before Vietnam, Bill was a handsome man, who wore clothing well; a man with white, straight teeth that showed in his ready smile. A state champion trap shooter, a low handicap golfer, a 218-average bowler, a man of quick, earthy wit, with a fondness for children, old men, hunting, fast cars, and a cold Schlitz. He told jokes well.

During Vietnam, he lived with horrors of which he would only seldom speak. Slow Motion Four, Bill’s personal call sign, logged thousands of helicopter flight hours performing Forward Support Base resupply landings, medical evacuations, exfils and gun ship runs. We know of him there mostly through medals for valor he received, and these were many. The following is quoted from but one of these, recording events that occurred on February 3, 1969. “While acting as aircraft commander of a UH-1H helicopter, WO Ebeltoft distinguished himself when his ship came under heavy automatic weapons while on a resupply mission for Company B, 1 Battalion, 52 infantry. While attempting to resupply B Company, WO Ebeltoft’s co-pilot became wounded. Realizing the importance of the mission WO Ebeltoft elected to attempt completion of the mission. Due to his superior knowledge of the aircraft, the helicopter was kept under control during the period in which the pilot was wounded and the ship was under fire. Remaining under attack from automatic weapons fire, the supply mission was successfully completed. While unloading the supplies, WO Ebeltoft received word that there were five emergency medical evacuation cases located 200 meters to his rear. WO Ebeltoft re-positioned his helicopter and picked up the wounded personnel. While evacuating the wounded, the commanding officer of Company B was injured. WO Ebeltoft again maneuvered his aircraft to enable evacuation of the injured officer. WO Ebeltoft then proceeded to evacuate all injured personnel by the fastest possible means. Upon completion, examination of the aircraft revealed that the craft had sustained nine enemy .30 caliber hits.”

Bill got the medal, of course, but he would have been the last to say anything about it. The citation shows the type of man that he, and many of his brothers-in-arms in Vietnam were; and still are today, albeit battered hard and unfairly by the cruel winds of the times in which they fought.

After being discharged as a decorated hero, Bill had a rough re-entry into civilian life. It is not necessary to recount Bill’s portion of what is an all-too-common story for wartime veterans, particularly those of the Vietnam era. It may be sufficient to say that after a run at business, a marriage and while grappling daily with his demons, his mental faculties escaped him. Bill became a resident of the Veteran’s Home in Columbia Falls, Montana in 1994. He lived there for the next 26 years.

At the Home, the patina of his memory covered life’s sorrows, and it was a blessing. Bill was happy there, living a life that was a strange mixture of hunting stories, pickup trucks and memories of some of his better times with women, friends and the outdoor life. Bill denied that anyone he loved had died; could not understand why anyone would fill with gas at four bucks a gallon when “Johnny’s Standard sells it for 27 cents;” and still “drove” his 1968 Dodge Charger. He was unfailingly courteous. His largest concerns were making his smoke breaks and finding his wallet (a search of 26 years).

In the past year, Bill’s shaky grip on physical health also slipped through his fingers. Yet, despite this, what we loved in him remained, if only sometimes as a shadow. Even after his serious decline, suffering fractures because of falls, Bill would tell the staff that he was “just fine” and not to worry about him. Thin, hunched over, propelling himself with one foot, he would wheel himself into the room of a bed-ridden veteran and sit there, next to the bed, unspeaking. The nursing staff was certain that Bill thought that the man in the bed was lonely and needed company.

Bill was always a proud man, remembering himself as he was in 1969, not as he became. Who are we to suggest differently? His was not a life that many would wish for, but in some ways, Bill was a lucky man. He was surrounded to the end by staff who enjoyed and respected him. He had a chance to be helpful to others who were doing less well than he. And the passing of the seasons never diminished his plans for another elk hunt or to “see that beautiful girl again this weekend.”

When a small slice of reality penetrated his pleasant confusion, Bill struggled to understand why he was where he was. Prematurely aged, his worldly goods in a small dresser, not knowing who the President might be or remembering why he should care, Bill’s losses were greater than most of us could endure. Yet, to those who love him, his brother and his brother’s wife, and their sons, he will always be a brave, accomplished man, more generous than was wise, more trusting than was safe.

It is not possible to wrap your arms around a loved one who leaves. But it is possible to wrap your heart around a memory. Bill’s will be well taken care of.

Remembrances can be shared directly with the family by email to paulebeltoft@gmail.com. Anyone who is so inclined is encouraged to donate to Stark County Veterans Memorial Association at P.O. Box 929, Dickinson, North Dakota 58602. A private service, through Stevenson Funeral Home and Crematory, Dickinson, will be held in the spring.

[blueunicorn6]

“All is well,
Safely rest,
God is nigh”

[House Atreides]

RIP, brother.

[ImpBill]

For Bill:

Your watch is over. Rest in Peace Brother!!

[KeyLargo]

I block ADs from such sites, and will not allow just to read some article.

[gloryblaze]

Godspeed.

[Sequoyah101]

A sad but unusually written tribute. I’m glad the paper published it all.

[dsc]

I feel like I just read a five-minute version of War and Peace.

[thesearethetimes...]

May God rest this good man’s immortal soul.

[Old Student]

https://www.thedickinsonpress.com/obituaries/obits/4825048-William-Ebeltoft

the link above is to the actual obituary, and there are no ads there if you use the Brave browser with Shields up.

I’d like for you to read the obit, so your eyes get as scratchy and wet as mine. I enlisted in 1973, and volunteered for Vietnam. Didn’t get to go, didn’t know how lucky I’d been for a decade after, when I thought about how damaged all the Nam vets I’d worked with were. I did go to Desert Shield/Desert Storm, as an REMF. The difference in the welcome we got, coming back, was seriously striking, too. We were called heroes, and greeted as such, instead of criminals. I’d gotten called a baby killer and spat at, about 17 years earlier, when I was visiting my mom. That was what I was expecting, and what this guy probably got, too, when he went home.

WRM, MSgt, USAF(Ret.)

[pabianice]

“He died 50 years after he lost, in Vietnam, all that underpinned his life. He was 73 years old.”

Bullshit. I was there, too, and no US serviceman “lost”. We were undone by cowardly politicians and treasonous press.

[offduty]

I, too, was in the military during the Vietnam War. Luckily for me, I was in a reserve outfit that was assigned to the 101st Airborne but we were never activated. I am thankful to this day I never had to go.

But the reaction to vets back in the day was significantly different then that today. I remember trying to catch a flight out of Atlanta to Detroit. There was a Delta flight crew (2-stews and a pilot) walking through the terminal and the one stew said “I have something for you, hold out your hand” Being young and stupid, I did. She proceeded to deposit a cigarette butt in my outstretched hand and the three of them laughed as they walked away.

I never flew Delta again and haven’t to this day.

I am grateful the young men and women of today’s military never have been subjected to abuse. They are the best of the best and deserve our respect. We weren’t as fortunate.

[Jan_Sobieski]

We were undone by cowardly politicians and treasonous press.

Same enemies, different day

[Albion Wilde]

bump

[Portcall24]

Not “lost” to the enemy...I think he means he lost his underpinning (or foundation) of life.

[tina07]

Yes, he lost who he was before going to Vietnam..

[7.62mm]

Although it doesn’t work for this, and other, sites, go here and enter the URL for a blocked site:

https://outline.com/

Gets around many ad walls.

You’re welcome! Merry Christmas!

[21twelve]

Thank you for posting the entire piece - VERY well written.

“It is not possible to wrap your arms around a loved one who leaves. But it is possible to wrap your heart around a memory. Bill’s will be well taken care of.”

[cpdiii]

Bill now rests in peace with our father the Lord. May his days in the presence of our lord be payment for his days in hell on earth.

Gods speed Bill. You earned it.

[KeyLargo]

Thanks for posting the text. I don’t unblock ads on sites.