In his Memorial Day address at Arlington National Cemetery, President Donald Trump made a half-joking aside that would have been wholly inappropriate even if he had not taken five draft deferments.
Trump had just invoked the memory of the first soldier buried there, 19-year-old William Christman of Pennsylvania.
“Beside him are more than 18,000 other young men named William,” he said before listing the other fallen: “Over 20,000 named John, over 13,000 named James, joined over time by Isaac, Elijah, Earls, Hanks, Helens, Juans, Margarets, Marius, Donalds…”
At the mention of that name, there was a stirring in the crowd, and a few people lightly applauded a serial, unrepentant dodger. Trump gave a semi-smile as awkward as the moment. He tried a bit of misplaced humor.
“...Not too many,” said the particular Donald who had done everything possible to avoid even the chance of becoming one of them.
In fact, there are a good many tombstones there inscribed with that given name, a number also bearing the name of the war Trump weaseled out of with no apparent principle beyond self-preservation. A cenotaph, a stone for someone whose remains are elsewhere, marks grave 110 in Section MI. It reads:
In Memory of Donald G. Cook
Medal of Honor
Col
US Marine Corps
Vietnam
Aug 9 1934
Dec 8 1967
This Donald was a Marine colonel from Brooklyn who was captured in December of 1964 after being shot in the leg while rushing to the scene of a downed helicopter, hoping to rescue survivors. He received the Medal of Honor posthumously for three years of unwavering courage while suffering brutal interrogations, starvation, illness and exposure. His example shames that other Donald for having said of ex-POW Sen. John McCain, “He’s a war hero because he was captured. I like people that weren’t captured, okay?”
The true hero Donald leaves us with an example of selfless leadership as a guided missile destroyer named after him now participates in the naval blockade that the other Donald launched against Iran.
The USS Donald Cook was christened in 1997 with Laurette Cook on hand. The motto on the ship’s crest was inspired by a note that a fellow prisoner had smuggled out saying all was well because he was in a state of grace.
“Faith Without Fear.”
Cook’s Medal of Honor citation reads, “For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while interned as a Prisoner of War by the Viet Cong in the Republic of Vietnam during the period 31 December 1964 to 8 December 1967. Despite the fact that by so doing he would bring about harsher treatment for himself, Colonel (then Captain) Cook established himself as the senior prisoner, even though in actuality he was not. Repeatedly assuming more than his share of harsh treatment.”
It continues, “Colonel Cook willingly and unselfishly put the interests of his comrades before that of his own well-being and, eventually, his life. Giving more needy men his medicine and drug allowance while constantly nursing them, he risked infection from contagious diseases while in a rapidly deteriorating state of health. This unselfish and exemplary conduct, coupled with his refusal to stray even the slightest from the Code of Conduct, earned him the deepest respect from not only his fellow prisoners, but his captors as well. Rather than negotiate for his own release or better treatment, he steadfastly frustrated attempts by the Viet Cong to break his indomitable spirit, and passed this same resolve on to the men whose well-being he so closely associated himself.”
It concludes, “Knowing his refusals would prevent his release prior to the end of the war, and also knowing his chances for prolonged survival would be small in the event of continued refusal, he chose nevertheless to adhere to a Code of Conduct far above that which could be expected. His personal valor and exceptional spirit of loyalty in the face of almost certain death reflected the highest credit upon Colonel Cook, the Marine Corps. and the United States Naval Service.”
Up to the end, Cook had refused to give the enemy anything more than his name, rank and serial number, not even saying his branch of service, too much of a Marine even to tell his captor he was one. He at one point led an escape attempt that failed because he and his fellow prisoners were so weak. An exasperated Viet Cong pressed a pistol to his forehead.
“You can’t kill me,” Cook reportedly said. “Only God can decide when I die.”
Back home, a doorbell rang and his wife, Laurette Cook, was handed a telegram informing her that he was “being detained in a foreign country against his will.” She was left to raise their four children, the eldest 6-year-old Chris at the time of his capture, the youngest, Tom a toddler, with two girls, Victoria and Karen, in between. They knew only that their father was missing in a distant place called Vietnam.
“You’re a child, and you’re trying to live your life, and, you know, your dad’s missing in action in Vietnam,” Chris Cook told The Daily Beast on Wednesday. “For me to process that, ‘My God, my father’s in a foreign country, lost someplace.’ You think about that a lot.”
Laurette Cook learned nothing more about her husband’s fate until two years later, when she received a five-page letter from him written on rice paper and smuggled out by a fellow prisoner. He was one Marine who understood that war can be hardest on those back at home.
“You have had the worst part of this experience and I pray that in some way, God willing, I’ll be able to make it up to you. I think of you each and every day and pray for God to give you strength.”
With what added strength she could summon, Laurette Cook sought to educate the public about the plight of the POWs by making appearances with a facsimile of one of the barbaric “tiger cages” in which her husband and others were being held.
“She actually went around, tried to educate people about Vietnam,” her eldest son told the Daily Beast on Wednesday. “And she was the very first one trying to do that, and people, some people didn’t really see that as something that was good for her to do, you know…Women didn’t speak, and my mom’s out there trying to educate these people on what’s actually going on in Vietnam.”
Unbeknownst to his wife, the seemingly indomitable man known as “the Bay Ridge Bomber” during his time on the Xavier High School football team succumbed to malaria and malnutrition during a month-long forced march toward a Cambodia swamp in 1967. He was 33 years old and buried in the swamp where he perished. The family would not learn of his death for seven years, until a month after the Paris Peace Accords.
Cook’s body was never recovered, and grave 110 remained empty when Cook was awarded the Medal of Honor in 1980. Proof of his selfless leadership was embodied in the fellow prisoners who had survived.
“We had a long relationship with the three people that he was in prison with,” Chris Cook recalled. ”They were in our lives for quite some time. They came out talking very, very highly about him. And it makes me very proud to be his son.”
Donald Cook’s bravery surprised nobody who knew him.
“Don was a code of conduct man,“ his widow was quoted saying.
Among the personal effects in Vietnam from before his capture and returned to his family was a letter to his children.
“My dear children,
You are all so young and perhaps these words won’t mean very much to you now. I do hope that in time to come they may prove of value to you for I write them from the bottom of my heart…I have selected the life of a United States Marine. It is a life that has not paid many material benefits to your wonderful mother or to you. For this I humbly apologize. But…it is a life that I have chosen in hopes that in my small way you and your children to come may never know the burden of bearing arms.”
“You will learn of my love for your mother in hopes that you, too, would love God and share in our love. At times though, I wonder if I have done you disservice in being born into a world where there is so much strife and hate; a world where man has forgotten the love of man.”
To his wife, Cook wrote, “God bless you and our wonderful family. Kiss and hug the little ones for me. I love them so much,
Love, Don."
In another note to her, which she kept in a glass case, he wrote, “Sometimes, I feel very close to you and tell you how much I love you. This drama isn’t over yet and I don’t know what God’s plan for me is. Don’t get your hopes too high, you may still be the prettiest widow in Vermont.”
Laurette Cook died in 2018, aged 80.
“After all that,” her son said.
Chris did not serve in the military, but he wears a USS Donald Cook hat.
“A lot of people come up to me and they’ll say, ‘Well, thank you for your service. I see you’re in the Navy,” he told the Daily Beast. “I say, ‘No, my father was in the Marine Corps, and they named a destroyer after him.’”
America may be the country of Donald Trump, but it is also the country of Donald Cook.
“One man does not make our country,” Chris said. “It takes many, and I think we’re a great country for the many that gave their lives to it.”
