Opha Lee “Jack” Jackson, 95, formerly of Fort McCoy, Florida, departed this earth on Sunday, October 4th. He will be fondly remembered by family and friends. He was preceded in death by his parents Roxie and Arley, his wife Helen, his sister Hazel, and his brother Leon. He is survived by daughters, Katherine Gibson & Andrea Heath and step-daughter, Diane Fletcher. There will be a visitation at the Banks Page Theus Funeral Home in Wildwood on Sunday, October 18th from 4-5 pm. There will be a burial service with full military honors at the Florida National Cemetery in Bushnell on Monday, October 19th at 10:30 am.
“The Wall” by Jack Jackson
Soft and low, their voices come,
From distant shores, their jobs now done,
On gentle breezes, ride their names,
While rice paddies hold their last remains.
Home at last, friends have heard their call,
Now it's a granite slab, the lonely "Wall",
Only hero's names fill the honored space,
Now thousands strong, they march in place.
Old comrades visit, now sick and lame,
For tortured hours, they search for names,
Thousands more came, but the only sound,
Are the teardrops shed, that hit the ground.
How did this happen, who's to blame,
An opposite wall should hold their names,
And those alive, who still live nice,
Be sentenced to pay an equal price.
12 hours each day, let them heed the call
To read the names on the Hero's Wall,
And for eternity serve those who died,
Fighting an unjust war for someone's pride.
“The Wall” by Jack Jackson
Soft and low, their voices come,
From distant shores, their jobs now done,
On gentle breezes, ride their names,
While rice paddies hold their last remains.
Home at last, friends have heard their call,
Now it's a granite slab, the lonely "Wall",
Only hero's names fill the honored space,
Now thousands strong, they march in place.
Old comrades visit, now sick and lame,
For tortured hours, they search for names,
Thousands more came, but the only sound,
Are the teardrops shed, that hit the ground.
How did this happen, who's to blame,
An opposite wall should hold their names,
And those alive, who still live nice,
Be sentenced to pay an equal price.
12 hours each day, let them heed the call
To read the names on the Hero's Wall,
And for eternity serve those who died,
Fighting an unjust war for someone's pride.
Opha Lee “Jack” Jackson, 95, formerly of Fort McCoy, Florida, departed this earth on Sunday, October 4th. He will be fondly remembered by family and friends. He was preceded in death by his parents Roxie and Arley, his wife Helen, his sister Hazel, and his brother Leon. He is survived by daughters, Katherine Gibson & Andrea Heath and step-daughter, Diane Fletcher. There will be a visitation at the Banks Page Theus Funeral Home in Wildwood on Sunday, October 18th from 4-5 pm. There will be a burial service with full military honors at the Florida National Cemetery in Bushnell on Monday, October 19th at 10:30 am.
“The Wall” by Jack Jackson
Soft and low, their voices come,
From distant shores, their jobs now done,
On gentle breezes, ride their names,
While rice paddies hold their last remains.
Home at last, friends have heard their call,
Now it's a granite slab, the lonely "Wall",
Only hero's names fill the honored space,
Now thousands strong, they march in place.
Old comrades visit, now sick and lame,
For tortured hours, they search for names,
Thousands more came, but the only sound,
Are the teardrops shed, that hit the ground.
How did this happen, who's to blame,
An opposite wall should hold their names,
And those alive, who still live nice,
Be sentenced to pay an equal price.
12 hours each day, let them heed the call
To read the names on the Hero's Wall,
And for eternity serve those who died,
Fighting an unjust war for someone's pride.
“The Wall” by Jack Jackson
Soft and low, their voices come,
From distant shores, their jobs now done,
On gentle breezes, ride their names,
While rice paddies hold their last remains.
Home at last, friends have heard their call,
Now it's a granite slab, the lonely "Wall",
Only hero's names fill the honored space,
Now thousands strong, they march in place.
Old comrades visit, now sick and lame,
For tortured hours, they search for names,
Thousands more came, but the only sound,
Are the teardrops shed, that hit the ground.
How did this happen, who's to blame,
An opposite wall should hold their names,
And those alive, who still live nice,
Be sentenced to pay an equal price.
12 hours each day, let them heed the call
To read the names on the Hero's Wall,
And for eternity serve those who died,
Fighting an unjust war for someone's pride.
Inscription
CPL
US MARINE CORPS
WORLD WAR II
JACK
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