I first met Gary Beikirch in 1979 as we were organizing the Veterans Outreach Center in Rochester, NY, and we quickly became friends.
He had recently returned to Rochester after a long stint living in New Hampshire, for a time in a cave and later in a cabin that he and his wife, Lolly, built by hand. He once told me that he felt a great sense of accomplishment in making his kitchen cabinets — with a chainsaw.
He was a medic in the Special Forces and was terribly wounded in a battle in a Montagnard village on April 1, 1970. His unit came under fierce attack, and he ran through enemy fire to tend the wounded. He was hit several times himself, but continued on, being carried about the firebase by a Montagnard soldier.He spent many months in various hospitals, and was discharged in 1971. The Army went looking for him in 1973 to notify him that he was to be awarded the Medal of Honor, finding him in the aforementioned cave. His hair was to his waist, but he had it cut so that he could honor his fellow soldiers by receiving it in uniform.
He was deeply religious, became a pastor, and ultimately the chaplain of the Medal of Honor Society. His religion was his own — not once in the more than 4 decades that I knew him did he attempt to preach, with me or anyone else.
He earned a BS and MS, and ultimately took a position with the school district that he had attended, counseling middle and high school students as the made their way through their teen years.
He was quiet, unassuming and the kindest and gentlest man I have ever known. Never a harsh word, ever. Always the first to step up when it came to helping others. But he was not without a sense of humor and mischief that always made us laugh.
I last saw Gary in August of this year at a ceremony honoring the founders of the VOC. He was in terrible shape; I knew he had been battling various cancers for several years, but was stunned by how ravaged he appeared. Leaving there, I knew that that was likely the last time we would meet.
I will miss him dearly.