A hero passes
RAY CRYER

Last week a hero died.

Tom Barrow was the most decorated soldier I've ever known.

He fibbed about his age to join the Marines at age 16 and was in Pearl Harbor in December 1941.

Tom joked about his capture of the first Japanese prisoner, who turned out to be a gardener and a native of Hawaii.

Tom never shied away from telling about the funny things that happened during the war, but he was close-mouthed about the horror and agony he saw.

I knew that Tom found forgiveness nevertheless, because he became irate that a Japanese minister was not allowed to lead a prayer at the Pearl Harbor ceremonies long after the war.

Tom had courageous convictions and would give trespassers the rough edge of his tongue.

Yet he would often soften things later with a self-depreciating apology.

He was a man of many talents: inventor, engineer and a stalwart of the Rusk Church of Christ.

When I told Tom of a small paraplegic girl in my Yucatan village, he designed and built for her a hand-operated tricycle.

I was a little in awe of Tom and felt a bit stronger when he and his wife Mary, also a World War II veteran, were nearby.

When I went to view the shedded shell that had once been Tom, I wanted to give him a 21 gun send-off.

Instead, I could only stand erect and salute with a tear and a prayer that flights of angels would bear him to his rest.

We will rarely see his equal again.