The first time I saw Victoria I'll never forget. Her big yellow Cadillac was perched at the top of the hill by the Post Chapel at the Presidio of San Francisco. A big American flag streamed from it announcing two remarkable women. Over the years, I'd often see that flag flying in the breeze, always with the same authority. That day, Victoria merged from the car along with her Mom. She walked slowly, a pretty severe case of osteoporosis. Her Mom held to her as they made their way to the chapel, under the canopy and into it. They sat about two thirds back. I would see them every Sunday.
Presidio was what us paratroopers called a "leg" post. Most military types thought getting assigned to the PSF (Presidio of San Francisco) was a dream assignment. Not me. I had arrived dragging my feet. My original assignment was to 7th Special Forces at Fort Bragg. I actually was leaving my all time favorite assignment, the 82d Airborne Division to take the Special Forces. It was a natural progression for a macho, egotistical military officer. I don't know how it happened that I was now at PSF. My good friend and boss at the Presidio, a Priest, says he didn't engineer it but I was skeptical. I was one of the few SF trained chaplains in the Army. It seemed in my own mind, I had sacrificed and taken lots of risks to get Special Forces qualified. It involved a gruelling training regiment, culminating in a jump into the the very unknown Uharrie Forest with an m60 machine gun strapped on my back. I was going to Vietnam to a Green Beret unit but when I got to Vietnam, I got siphoned off to the 101st Airborne. it turned out to be a great assignment not to mention a great ministry. This should have taught me a lesson. The only reason this has any relavance is my gloomy mood thinking that Victoria and her Mom, Esther, were now my parisherners. Quite a change from the paratroopers of the 82d Airborne. I was so stupid. Every Sunday when I came out of the Chapel, her Mother greeted me with, "could do that thing you do." I smiled and gave her a big HooAhhhhhhhhhh, the paratrooper yell. She roared with laughter and it pleased Victoria so.
I didn't know it much then but came to realize later on--these two were the epitome of patriotism. Red, white and blue coursed through their veins. Victoria was always dressed to the "nines" with three pins on her blouse or jacket: an American flag, her WAC (WOman's Army Corp.) one and another in the shape of a flag with the words, "I pledge Allegiance."
The Post Chapel was the second oldest building on the Presidio, a dynamic historical chapel with these gorgeous flags of units that served at the Presidio hanging from high cathedral ceilings. Plagues adorned the walls as memorials to the decorated and famous military and the not so famous. It was almost like Victoria and her mother were born for that chapel. Victoria loved one story of the memorial plagues I told her and she repeated it often to almost anybody who would listen. A former Chief of Chaplains (Major General) came to the Chapel and replaced his former wife's name on the Memorial with the name of his present one.
Victoria's family was military through and through. Her Dad was a military man, retired with the rank of Major. They were stationed in Hawaii, Utah, Fort Benning, and other "postings" as she called them. He was in WW l. They lived for a long time in Seattle and put down roots and somehow made their way to San Francisco where Victoria became a 4th grade public school teacher. They lived in this really nice apartment on Nob Hill and she and her mother spent their time riding around the Bay Area and hanging out on the Presidio.
The Presideo was a big part of Victoria and her Mom 's life. They were a familiar site at almost every single event that went on: the chapel, the club, ceremonies, change of command. Someone said to me one day, "Who is that lady with the other older lady?" People remembered them because Victoria was beginning to suffer a little more from the osteoporosis and walked slower but always with her Mom on her arm. Must be somebody important. "Of course, I allowed."
For the vast majority of their lives, Presidio of San Francisco was a hard charging military Post with active duty soldiers and a first rate teaching military hospital. Victoria took it personal when anybody had the audacity to call the Presideo a base as opposed to a Post. And, when the "powers that be" decided to close the Presideo, Victoria again took it very personal and never forgave them, whoever "them" might be.
The love of Victoria's life was her brother Fred. Fred was pretty remarkable I think. He was in flight training in Southern California, preparing to be one of the Army Air Corps's finest. Victoria was herself a WAC (Woman's Army Corp) stationed in Virginia. She was a clerk and waiting her turn to go overseas. It was WW ll. Her Dad was an Artilleryman and was somewhere in the Southwest. All were "ready" to ship over to the big war.
Victoria never figured what might possibly happen. She got the call in the middle of the night and could describe it in intricate details--how the "Charge of Quarters" came to get her. She fell to the floor. Fred had crashed and been killed. It was a training accident. He was on his final check-out flight before he got his wings. Later on he posthumously got them. Fred was dead. Victoria could not believe it.
The funeral, the time of grief, all ran together with life. A war raged on in Europe and Japan had attacked us. Fred was dead. Here's where the story of Fred takes a turn, especially in Victoria's mind. There was an incident when her mother went to get Fred's personal items. Someone whispered to her, Victoria thinks maybe the Red Cross; "Fred is the 4th one to die in a similar act. We think maybe sabotage. A German sympathizer is suspected of sabotaging Fred's plane and the crash was the direct result of his actions." It was a blow to Victoria. The details and follow up to such a heinous act disappeared in the mist of war.
Years later Victoria wanted to clear it up. She travelled to LeMoore Field where the "act" occurred and talked to people. She joined the Aces Organization which kept her on the edge of those who had been fellow students of Fred. Had he lived, to her, no doubt he would have been an Ace (pilot that shoots down at least 5 enemy planes). She actually located some who had flown with Fred. Over the course of years, Victoria steeped herself in the history of these contemporaries of Fred. Along the way, the sabotage story faded and for Victoria, a kind of nostalgia set in. She could cry and did often when she talked of Fred. Her apartment had pictures of him everywhere--the correspondence concerning his death was stacked in numerous piles.
After Victoria's Mom's death, the actual beginning of our personal involvement with her began. She kind of fell apart, as there was literally no one to help. My wife, stepped in and took her under her wing (Jackie is an angel) so to speak. I got the commander to authorize her continued access to the Presidio and especially the Officer's Club where they hung out and were fixtures.
Victoria moved into the Sequoias, a retirement center. She continued to be a ubiquitous presence in the Bay Area, developing a cadre of good friends and driving that big old car around. Flag flying. She and Jackie made trips to Europe, numerous ones to Washington, visiting Arlington Cemetery and the graves of her Mom, Dad, and Fred.
A few weeks ago, Victoria had a heart attack. After her attack and subsequent hospital stay, she returned to the next level down at the retirement center. In the Health Center, Victoria had a small room as she would hope to gain strength and return to her apartment. The room had a nice TV but Victoria decided it was a place for the pictures of her family and mostly of her beloved brother.
Victoria died recently. The pictures of her family are still up. God bless Victoria on her journey. HooAhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
