Honoring Marine Maj. Corky Ram

DURHAM, N.C. -- I'm at Duke University this Friday for dedication of a memorial to the Duke graduates who lost their lives on active duty since World War II, including the best company commander I ever had the privilege to serve, Maj. Cornelius "Corky" Ram.

Corky had a gift of leadership that inspired me to meet and then exceed my personal best as a callow 20-year-old radio operator in 1964, when I was with the 1st Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment based at Camp Pendleton, Calif. His leadership still resonates with me 45 year later.

Some military commanders - and not the good ones, in my experience - try to lead with the brute force of their personality. Not Corky. He did so with style and grace and wore his rank lightly. That meant one day when I was hitching a ride out of Camp Pendleton, Corky not only gave me a ride but took me home for dinner.

A good leader always puts his troops first, which is the reason I would still follow Corky on any mission, anywhere.

And that is how Corky died: taking care of his Marines. On Jan. 10, 1971, Corky, serving as executive officer of the 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines (or known as 2/5), orbited in a command helicopter above a battle in the small village of Phu Thanh, southwest of Danang, Vietnam.

The Marines on the ground had experienced casualties, and Corky directed the helo to land. He and Capt. Douglas Ford, the "Echo" company commander, went to rescue the wounded Marines, only to hit a booby trap, with both perishing just months before all Marines left Vietnam.

My memories of Corky have dimmed with time, but not those of his spirit. That's why I am here today to honor Corky, along with his eldest daughter, Linda, a Duke grad, and Grace, his granddaughter, a current Duke student.

Corky spent 1967-1970 at Duke as an instructor in the Naval ROTC unit (and picked up a Masters degree). Two of his students from that time also are here today to honor a man they view not only as an inspirational leader, but the epitome of the thinking man's Marine.

Rick Lieb, a Marine whom Corky instructed at Duke, and who also served with Corky in Vietnam, told Linda in a letter last week that from the "first day of class I could not get over your Dad's intellect, presence, his professionalism as a Marine, and his humanity."

Lieb, who now serves on the board of a Pennsylvania financial services company, told Linda that her father "was a Marine's Marine. Any superlative you can think of applied to your father. He was physically and morally courageous, passionate about caring for his Marines, and demanded the highest standards of performance of everyone in the battalion, particularly of himself and the officers of the unit."

Rick Kane, a Marine and Duke grad who also had Corky as a teacher, and who now practices law in North Carolina, recounted for me how Corky did not shy away from quiet intellectual battles either.

The Duke campus in 1969 - like may others in the country at the time - was roiled by fierce anti-war protests. Those who served in the military were viewed on campus as "either dupes or war criminals," Kane remembered, and told me in an e-mail that "Corky decided to try to change the dialog, personally. He would sit in the student coffee house in the evenings, sipping coffee, ready to have a civil discussion with whoever cared to engage in one."

Yes, Marines can engage in civil discourse.

Lieb, who served in 2/5 the day Corky died, told Linda in his letter that her father's actions that day epitomized the Maine motto, Semper Fidelis.

"He did not have to direct his helicopter to land and help those wounded Marines. But he did. He then ran over to help them. That is when he was hit. That was Corky Ram."

Semper Fidelis, Corky, Linda, Rick Kane and Rick Lieb.