Seventy-six years ago on June 10, 1947, a baby boy was born. His name was Timothy Caston Kelly. He was my brother.

He was the son of Carl and Edna Kelly. The second of three boys, he lived the life of an Army brat for his first few years of life. My mother told me that he was an adventurous toddler. She told me a story about one of his adventures. When he was about 3 and a half, he ventured away from their house on the Army post. Mom had been distracted while she was caring for her infant son Pat. When she realized that Timmy was not in the house or the yard, she panicked and immediately called Carl. Carl alerted the base Military Police and they began to look for the little toddler. Not long afterward, the MP’s drove up to their house and returned young Timmy to the arms of his distraught mother. The MP’s imparted a story about finding the young lad. With a bit of a chuckle, they said that they had found him walking the fenced perimeter of the post pushing his stroller just as happy and carefree as you please. It turned out to be a happy memory from an otherwise scary ordeal.

A few years later, Carl was called to duty to serve in Korea. It was the last time that he would see his family again. He was killed in action in Korea and was awarded the Silver Star. Edna and her 3 young sons would return to home and family in Jackson, Georgia. With the aid of my grandmother and family friends, she did the best she could to raise her sons.

In a few years, she would meet my father and they would eventually marry. Two years later, my mother would give birth to her fourth son and in two more years, she gave birth to her fifth son. Timmy was the oldest brother in the house by now, my brother Cary had moved on the college and then the Marines. By all accounts, as related to me by my mom, Timmy loved his two new little brothers. One of my most cherished pictures is of Timmy holding me in one arm. He and his girlfriend were going to a dance or prom, I can’t remember.

Timmy would soon enlist in the U.S. Air Force. He went to Basic Training at Lackland AFB outside of San Antonio and also trained to be an aircraft mechanic. Eventually, he would stationed in Thailand at Nakhon Phanom Royal Thai Air Force Base, better known as “NKP” or “Naked Fanny,” was the northern most station in Thailand, situated just across the Mekong River from Takhet, Laos. During the Vietnam War, NKP proved vital to the American cause. For years, the base existed on the fringes, as a well-guarded secret.

Timmy wrote many letters to my mom while stationed overseas, she kept them all her life. She would still pull them out and read them occasionally until her death. A few years ago, I reached out to the Thailand Laos Cambodia Brotherhood website to see if I could connect to anyone that knew my brother. By the grace of God, I received a letter from his “hooch” mate and good friend.

Hi Chip,

I saw your posting on the TLC Brotherhood site. Your brother and I were hooch mates and good friends at NKP. We had some great times together and shared an R&R in Bangkok. We both worked on U-10D aircraft as mechanics. We also kicked propaganda leaflets for a little extra money. Do you know about “bullshit bombers”? That is what dropping those leaflets was called. TC and I also got temporary duty with the small airplanes in Laos. We each went with a pilot. As I remember, his was Major Armstrong. This was quite an adventure for twenty year old kids. While at NKP, the U-10 detachment was phased out and then we both worked on C-123K aircraft. They were called “candles” as they dropped flares over the Ho Chi Minh trail at night.

TC left for the states a few weeks before I did. We had a party in the airman’s club as a going away event for him. I will never forget….he took ten dollars in quarters and shoved them all into the juke box. (This was a lot of plays!) The only song he selected was Rainy Night in Georgia. It played for days! We put TC on the C-130 the next day. We were all hung over.

I have since met other people I served with in 1969 and heard that TC was killed in an auto accident. Is that accurate?

He looked just like Robert Mitchum with a steel helmet on. We had many good times together in a not so good situation very far from home.

Sincerely,

Charles O’Brien

Receiving this letter from Charles was like finding a nugget of gold in my back yard. I had received a more personal glimpse into my brother’s life. I would not get to know him and talk to him as an adult, but the little snippets I remember from childhood and the letter above keep his memory alive in my heart.

After coming home from Thailand, Timmy was stationed in California at Merced AFB. Some time later he was involved in a motorcycle accident. He did not survive. He was 23.

I remember the day the authorities came to our home to inform my mother and father. The cries, the tears and the sorrow have stayed etched in my memory all my life. There is not only one day that I think of him, but I make a special effort every year to remember him on his birthday, a trait I learned from my mother.

Fooling around with friends at Tastee Freez

Since receiving the letter from Charles, every time I hear Brook Benton belt out “Rainy night in Georgia”, I smile and think of my brother.

Happy Birthday in Heaven Timmy!

I will see you again someday and we can fish on the banks of Freeman’s pond one more time.

Love,

Chip