HAPPY VETERANS DAY 2025
Courage Has a Name
The stories that shape Kings County do not shout. They move like the wind through the orchard rows, steady and unpretentious. You find them in the dust of harvest, in the hum of traffic along Highway 198, and in the kind of silence that holds respect rather than emptiness. One of those stories began in Hanford, California, on March 9, 1946.
George Alan Ingalls grew up the way so many from this valley do, plainspoken, loyal, hardworking. There is something about the land here that builds a quiet strength in people. The Valley teaches that life is rarely easy but always worth showing up for. Ingalls carried that lesson into the uniform of the United States Army when he enlisted in 1966. He became part of Company A, 2nd Battalion, 5th Cavalry, 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile), a unit known for moving fast, living rough, and standing shoulder to shoulder when things went wrong.¹ ²
On April 16, 1967, near Đức Phổ in the Republic of Vietnam, the night split open. His squad lay hidden on an ambush line, waiting in the dark. A grenade
landed nearby but did not explode. The unit held their breath. Then a second grenade dropped into their midst. There was no time to think, only to act. In the space of a heartbeat, Ingalls threw himself onto it. The explosion tore through the night. The men around him lived because he did not.
The Medal of Honor citation called it gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty. The soldiers who were there called it what it was: pure courage.¹ ²
It takes a special kind of love to trade your tomorrow for someone else’s today. Ingalls was only twenty-one. He never made it home to see the orchards bloom again,
never heard the hum of summer sprinklers or breeze blowing through the foothills. But his story became part of this place anyway. His courage is a thread woven into the valley that raised him. Hanford and the small towns around it have always
understood the weight of names. The Freedom Memorial stands at the county seat, etched with the sons and daughters who left and never came back. Families touch the stone and remember. Teachers
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Sarah Jackman WRITER
FRONT PAGE
Courage Has a Name By Sarah Jackman
PAGES 4-5
Seqouia Ride By Sarah Jackman
PAGE 6
CC Biker Directory
PAGES 7-9
Central Valley Honor Flight #33
October 13-15, 2025 By Rob Tapley
PAGES 9-10
Special Operations Association & Special Forces Association
Concurrent Annual Reunion By Peggy Lisle
PAGES 10-11
Make Him Gone By Sarah Jackman
PAGES 12-13
Vietnam Veterans Military Escort of “The Wall That Heals” Procession 2025 By Gary Roberts
PAGE 14
The Freedom Memorial By Sarah Jackman
Courage Has a Name
Continued from the previous page
bring students to see the cost of freedom written out in granite. Somewhere in that quiet, between the flags and the breeze, George Ingalls belongs. Born here. Raised here. Gone too soon, but never forgotten.³ ⁴
Two years after his death, his family received the Medal of Honor at the Pentagon. There were speeches, uniforms, photographs, and folded hands. Behind every formal word was a valley that understood what it meant. In Norco, a veterans memorial plaza bears his name so that children can learn not only who he was but what he stood for.³ ⁵
In Kings County, gratitude does not always sound like applause. Sometimes it sounds like engines revving at a Memorial Day ride. Sometimes it is the hush at a graveside when the last note of “Taps” fades. It is the quiet promise that this community will keep saying his name.
Courage is not noise or
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swagger. It is a decision made in the dark when no one has time to weigh the odds. It is a moment when fear exists but duty wins. George Alan Ingalls met that moment and did not step back. He gave everything so others could live. His story reminds us that courage is not a myth or a monument. It is a human choice. It lives in small towns, in young hearts, and in the people this valley continues to raise.
Courage has a name.
1. “George Alan Ingalls,” Congressional Medal of Honor Society, accessed October 23, 2025, https://www.cmohs. org/recipients/george-a-ingalls
2. “Vietnam War Medal of Honor Recipients, A–L, Ingalls, George A.,” U.S. Army Center of Military History, accessed October 23, 2025, https://www.army. mil/medalofhonor/citations25.html
3. “Freedom Memorial,” Kings County Veterans Services Office, accessed October 23, 2025, https://www. countyofkingsca.gov/departments/ general-services/veterans-services/ freedom-memorial
4. “George Alan Ingalls,” Wikipedia, last modified October 2025, accessed October 23, 2025, https://en.wikipedia. org/wiki/George_Alan_Ingalls
5. “George A. Ingalls Veterans Memorial Plaza,” City of Norco, accessed October 23, 2025, https://www.norco.ca.us/ events-attractions/explore-norco/ veterans-memorial-plaza
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Sequoia Ride
Sarah Jackman WRITER
The engine found its rhythm not far from the valley floor, a steady heartbeat against the hum of open road. The ride toward Sequoia National Park begins in familiar calm. Outside the park, the pavement still feels civilized, lined with towns that fade quickly in the mirrors and fields stretching wide beneath early fall sun. The air holds warmth without weight, brushing across the skin with something like permission.
The entrance came easy that day. No line at the gate, no crowd waiting their turn. Just a brief nod from the ranger and the slow climb that follows. The road, known as the Generals Highway, tightens as it ascends, threading through dense forest and along ridges carved by time. Each turn reveals something different: rock faces streaked with orange and gray, narrow shoulders bordered by stone guard walls, sudden glimpses into deep valleys where the river cuts through like a silver thread. The forest rises with the road, and with every mile the world seems to draw closer until everything feels suspended between sky and earth.
There’s a stillness that lives in those heights. The hum of the engine, the echo of tires on pavement, the faint rush of wind against the visor all fold into something bigger. The air cools and sharpens as the climb continues, and the scent of pine and cedar deepens. Every breath feels older, drawn through layers of forest that have stood longer than memory.
Near the heart of the park, the road evens out. The climb softens, and the landscape opens into the Giant Forest, home to trees that have outlasted centuries. The General Sherman Tree stands there, the largest living thing on land by volume, rooted in a silence that humbles even the most restless mind. The trail that leads to it dips
gently before curving back uphill toward the parking area. It’s a short walk, but one that feels longer because of the weight of what waits at the end. The air thickens with resin and dust. Sunlight filters down in slow-moving columns that catch on red bark and lift the forest floor into gold. There’s no need for words there. The sequoias don’t ask for attention; they demand it. Their scale bends perspective, and their presence steadies the noise inside. The forest hums without sound. The mind stops measuring and simply listens.
Wildlife moves without hurry through the scene. A deer steps quietly between shadows, half-seen and unconcerned. A squirrel pauses, its tail flicking, watching a moment too long to be pure curiosity. Even in stillness, the forest feels aware. By afternoon, the sun hangs low over the ridges, turning the light honey-colored and soft. The ride down carries a different tone. Gravity does its work, pulling the weight of the bike toward the valley floor. The road that felt endless on the climb folds neatly into a rhythm of descent. The forest begins to open again. Warm air returns. Civilization seeps back in slowly, first a sign, then a fence, then the familiar sprawl of small towns. There’s a kind of satisfaction in that return. Muscles ache, skin carries the sun’s trace, and the silence that lingers has a weight of its own. No souvenirs, no photos worth the trying. Just the memory of having stood somewhere that didn’t need to prove its worth.
Sequoia waits for anyone willing to meet it halfway. The trees have been there for thousands of years, patient and immovable, weathering fires and storms without
Sequoia Ride
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ceremony. To ride among them is to understand what endurance really looks like. The world feels bigger up there, not because of the height or the view, but because it asks nothing from you except to notice. For those who ride, this is the kind of road that reminds you why the machine was
built. It carries you toward stillness, then brings you home changed in quiet ways. The climb, the scent, the hum of the tires all stay long after the ride ends. Sometimes that’s all a person needs: a good stretch of road, a full tank, and a reminder that there are still places untouched by hurry. Sequoia gives that freely. All that’s left is to go.
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Central Valley Honor Flight #33
October 13-15, 2025
This all began with my identical twin brother calling me and asking if I would like to go to Washington DC with the Honor flight he was selected for. I would be his “Guardian” and assist him in his travel needs. I looked at the requirements, and they have an age limit of 72 years for guardians, so this was my last chance to go as one. The veteran waiting list is 2 years, so if I applied, my brother couldn’t go as my guardian. He is Air Force, and I am Army Guard, (we tend to be identical opposites). Wives are not permitted to go, or husbands of the veteran, but other family members can guard. There is $1200 fee for the guardian that helps a little for the program, but the total cost is covered by generous donors.
2 weeks before the trip, everyone was required to go to a welcome and training session. Mr. Paul Loeffler and Mr. Joe Fry were masters of ceremony. We were entertained by a local High School Choir, received t-shirts, ball caps, windbreaker, matching travel bags, Veterans Red, Guardians blue, and an excellent lunch by Chick Fill-A.
We as guardians had an extra class showing us how to keep our veteran safe, with a wheelchair class, and instructions on who to call if we got sick, then they would provide a guardian in our place.
Early October 13th morning, the USO provided doughnuts and coffee at our check-in, I had to carry my brother’s bags and mine into the airport, and up to the hotel room on arrival. I had to be pre-TSA screened for the trip, Mr. Loeffler (the voice of Fresno State) and Congressman Jim Costa gave us send-off speeches, and we were loaded onto our own Chartered airliner from Allegiant Air.
We arrived at Baltimore Washington airport at 5PM Eastern time, to a water cannon salute by airport fire trucks, boarded a designated
bus, and were taken to American Legion Post 276 in Severn, Maryland for a BBQ dinner at 6 PM local time, 3 PM for us Californians. They shook our hands, said “Thank you for your Service” and fed us well. We boarded the bus and were taken to a Holiday Inn in Maryland. We were to hear “thank you for your service” from many people the next 2 days.
October 14th breakfast was served at 5:45AM buffet style, and the buses were loaded to leave at 7AM. First stop, US Capitol building with a police escort leading the way! Even with the government shutdown, we had to arrive exactly on time. We had the honor of being the second of two Honor Flight groups to be invited to the floor of the
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Rob Tapley Treasurer of Sword & Shield Riders Clovis, CA Chapter CMA
House. I, along with fellow veterans and guardians, sat in a congressman’s chair, while the Speaker of the House spoke to us. The Honorable Congressman Vince Fong gave us a welcome and explained some of the interesting facts about the Congressional meeting room.
At 9:30 AM we were bussed to the WWII memorial for a group photo, and individual tour. All the states were displayed prominently, and as we arrived we were ambushed by a high school class that thanked us for serving. Behind the memorial there was a military sign indicating the Yanks had arrived. “Kilroy was here” with the little Kilroy etched in the stone! Also, a whispering spot where you could hear your voice naturally amplified by a circular wall about 3 feet tall with a bench attached.
Oct. 14th 11:30 We arrive at the Navy Memorial and are given a box lunch to eat. We walked the memorial, and next door was the Navel Museum which was very interesting with displays, uniforms, and model ships. Downstairs was a theatre that was showing some history, but no one had time to stop that long.
Next was the Marine memorial, that had an enormous statue of the flag raising at Iwo Jima. Around the girth of the monument was a listing of all the conflicts and years the Marines had been
engaged in, from the beginning until recent times. One of the men that raised that flag was an Honor flight attendee from years back.
The last stop of the day was going to be the Army memorial, but the shutdown closed it. Instead, we were bused to the FDR memorial. Franklin D Roosevelt was depicted with a statue of him and his dog. His many accomplishments were shown on many granite stone walls, as well as artwork. From the Great Depression in 1929, to the start of WWll. He was elected for 4 terms, but failed to live out the last one, with Harry Truman taking over the Presidency.
Back to the Holiday inn for dinner and breakfast at 6:30 AM Wednesday morning.
Oct. 15th- Wednesday promised to be a long day Hotel checkout at 7:30 AM, and off to the next memorial. First stop, Air Force memorial next to Arlington Cemetery and the Pentagon. The Air Force memorial has 3 massive spires going over 600 feet to simulate jets in a missing man formation. There is a bronze full-size color-guard, and on a granite wall are the names of airmen who have won the medal of honor. This is a fairly new memorial that blocks the path the airline took into the Pentagon on 9/11/2001.
Next was Arlington Cemetery, and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We walked or were wheelchaired to the site, and for an hour watched the soldier march on a path carrying an M14 with a bayonet in front of the tomb. The Officer in Command arrived with the soldier’s relief, and there was a brief ceremony for that. Later, in front of the Tomb Amphitheater we met the soldiers that were the guards 24/7 at the tomb. One man and one woman talked to us about their experiences as guards there. Thirty to thirty-five soldiers are buried each day.
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Then we boarded the bus at 10:45 for the Korean War veteran’s memorial. All 37 thousand of war dead were listed along with our South Korean Allies who perished in that war. There was an entire field of statues of soldiers in ponchos on patrol, and a granite wall with faces of service members from pictures etched into the wall. Very impressive!
Next, we were dropped off by the Lincoln memorial, visited that, and Congressman David Valadeo met us on the path to the Vietnam memorial. My twin and I posed for a picture by the memorial since we are both Vietnam era veterans. Another group of schoolchildren met us on the way and shook hands there. We received Pot pies to eat before we boarded the bus to the airport.
Four and a half hours later
we arrived in Fresno, on a direct flight, same plane we left in, same seat, the plane just sat there waiting for us. We were supposed to arrive at FAT (Fresno) at 6 PM
The pilot got us there within a minute of 6 PM. The Firetrucks gave us a water cannon reception. Getting off the plane was efficient, but the veterans had to use the slow elevator to get down to the hallway going to the lobby. That took a
half hour, meanwhile we cheered for regular people getting off their planes yelling “Welcome to Fresno” to their sheepish grins.
Once Joe Fry gave the go ahead, we proceeded single file to the most honorable, loud, raucous, welcome home I have ever experienced. Lemoore NAS was lined up in salute in dress uniforms, Air Force cadets, former Honor flightees, students and family members. I saluted the flags of the motorcycle veterans, and a group dressed as Revolutionary war soldiers. Kissed my wife along the way and I must have shaken about 80 hands as fast as I could in line. We then went to baggage claim, found our bags, and planned where we would eat. We were the last ones there, and Mr. Paul Loeffler walked over to us and asked us about our experience with the flight. Nice guy! Great experience!
Special Operations Association & Special Forces Association Concurrent Annual Reunion
I went to a Special Forces convention in Las Vegas honoring our brave and courageous men and women. I did not grow up in a military family, so it was a learning experience for me. I was invited by Richard Tilley to attend in honor of his dad Leonard who is a Green Beret.
I met one of the original 33 Green Beret and heard many amazing stories. I realized that our military men are built
differently. What they had to endure through protecting us behind the scenes. I was able to meet many friendly and welcoming people. My heart was heavy when I seen all the men that didn’t make it home. It was a privilege to attend this event, and a life experience I will never forget.
Sitting at the table with Leonard Tilley and other veterans and their spouses
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Peggy Lisle WRITER
Special Operations
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they made me feel welcomed and part of the family. They had a hospitality room set up with open bars and food all day long so there was no need to leave the hospitality room for anything. On the final evening, they had a fancy dinner with drinks and dancing. I had many conversations and was invited to go back next year.
MAKE HIM GONE
Rallies always sound simple on paper. Ride in, set up camp, share a few drinks, sleep, repeat. Easy enough. Except it never goes that way.
There is always one person who finds enlightenment in a bottle and decides the universe wants them horizontal, wherever horizontal happens to be.
That night, it was my tent. The campground was packed with riders, tents lined shoulder to shoulder,
everyone pretending they had personal space. My setup was a two-person tent, but that second spot was purely decorative. I had earned the right to stretch out without being someone’s pillow.
So imagine my horror when I unzipped the flap and found a pair of boots already inside. Not mine. Not even close. I followed the evidence trail and there he was, passed out across my sleeping bag like a felled tree. Boots off, snoring, drooling, and completely unaware that eviction
papers were being mentally drafted above his head.
I started politely. Tap on the shoulder. Nothing. Louder tap. Nothing. A yell. Nothing. A maybe-too-firm slap to the face. Still nothing.
By then, the surrounding tents were unzipping like prairie dogs popping up to watch the show.
Then came Tatanka.
Now, that is his road name, and it fits. Built like a bison, voice like gravel, calm as a monk until pushed. A fellow Marine who could probably field strip an attitude
problem before breakfast. He blinked once, took in the scene, and waited for my explanation.
“Not my boots. Not my person. Help.”
That was all he needed.
Tatanka crouched and crawled halfway into the tent beside the intruder, shoulder to shoulder like it was a bedtime story gone wrong. The absurdity of it hit him right away. He looked back at me, grin spreading slow, that dangerous kind of Marine
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Sarah Jackman WRITER
humor lighting up his face.
“Reckon he wants to cuddle?” he whispered.
Before I could answer, Tatanka leaned in close and sighed like a bad romance movie. “Hey there, Big Papa. You warm enough in here?” Still nothing. Not even a twitch. So, he tried again, louder this time. “You smell nice. What’s that, shame and cheap whiskey?”
Nothing.
Tatanka shifted, threw one arm across the guy’s chest, and made a little kissy noise. The sound echoed through the tent like the world’s strangest mating call. “C’mere, sweetheart. I missed you too.” He gave a contented sigh and patted the man’s cheek gently. “That’s right. Sleep tight, buttercup.”
Still nothing. The man snored through the whole performance, completely oblivious.
By then, Tatanka was fully committed. He started humming, slow and soft, like a lullaby nobody asked for. Then came the Marine Corps Hymn; loud, off-key, but heartfelt; every line punctuated by another poke or a mock whisper. “Wake up, cupcake. Daddy’s here.”
I was laughing so hard I could barely stand. The surrounding tents were all ears on the unfolding disaster. It was part rescue mission, part twisted comedy routine, and all chaos.
After a full five minutes of unsuccessful diplomacy and cuddle-based
negotiation, Tatanka backed out, brushed off his hands, and looked at me.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Make him gone.”
He nodded once; a Marine receiving orders; and grabbed the man by the ankle. One sharp pull later, my uninvited guest was sliding out of the tent like a body bag on a conveyor belt. The sound he made when he hit the ground was somewhere between a grunt and a belch. Tatanka, ever the gentleman, picked up the boots and launched them after him. They landed beside the man, like punctuation at the end of a very short sentence.
The guy barely woke. Rolled over, blinked at the stars, and promptly fell back asleep in the dirt. I stood there in awe, equal parts horrified and deeply satisfied.
Tatanka dusted off his
hands. “Tent’s secure.”
Then he winked. “Guess I wasn’t his type after all.”
And that was that. I crawled into my reclaimed space and zipped the door shut, knowing full well the legend of that moment would grow faster than any hangover.
By breakfast, the campground buzzed with rumor. Someone said a brawl broke out. Someone else claimed a man got thrown clear across camp. Nobody knew who it was, and the human shotput didn’t even remember existing, let alone trespassing. By noon, the story had already become campfire currency, traded and embellished, mostly wrong.
That’s how it goes. A few miles of road, a night under the stars, one uninvited guest, and a lesson about what happens when you crawl into the wrong tent.
Tatanka didn’t ask questions. He didn’t argue. He just did
what needed doing. And when he asked what I wanted, I gave the only right answer.
“Make him gone.”
Still the best three words of that entire trip.
GARY ROBERTS GARY ROBERTS
Chapter President of Sword & Shield Riders | Clovis, CA Chapter CMA
Vietnam Veterans Military Escort of “The Wall That Heals” Procession 2025
On Tuesday October 7th, 2025, we had the distinctive honor to have helped escort “The Wall That Heals”, a 3/4 scale replica of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall that resides in Washington, D.C., from the City of Fowler to the David McDonald Park in north-east Clovis. The City of Clovis was one of approximately 30 US cities chosen out hundreds in the US considered to host the travelling Vietnam Veterans Wall Memorial, which helps Vietnam Veterans heal and cope with their harsh realities once returning home after the unpopular
war, to a largely uncaring and unsympathetic nation.
The Clovis Veterans Memorial District representatives and numerous Central Valley veteran biker groups, including the American Legion Riders (ALR) chapters, which helped lead the biker procession and various other biking groups, including our Clovis CMA Chapter, participated on the escort ride. Approximately 100 motorcycle riders gathered that morning at 10am and had a group orientation / presentation of the event details to keep all participants safe and organized as we were about to proceed. About 35 actual Vietnam Veterans lead in the first pack of riders, followed
by “The Wall That Heals” safely stored in and hauled with a classic Kenworth Semi Truck & Trailer, followed by the remaining 65 or so riders bringing up the rear of the procession. We were escorted the entire way by local CHP bike units and several Fowler, Clovis, and Fresno PD vehicles that helped block street intersections and kept us moving safely in our pack unimpeded.
With our hazard light flashing to alert the traffic stalled for several minutes along our 25 mile or so route from Fowler to Clovis, we crept along in a synchronized rumble of V-twins, two by two in a row, as we honored the veterans that were still with us and for those in spirit that we
lost so long ago. It was a very moving and emotional trip as we meandered up Golden State Boulevard, then made our way east into Sanger for the procession to travel by a couple of Elementary Schools and Sanger High School on our route. At the first school, dozens of very enthusiastic schoolchildren greeted us waving American flags and cheering us on. It was very heart warming to see their enthusiastic response to the passing Wall and its escort of ragtag bikers passing by. We eventually were travelling north on Clovis Avenue for several miles, and our emotions began to bubble
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Gary Roberts
Chapter President of Sword & Shield Riders Clovis, CA Chapter CMA
over. In random parking lots and along the roads, we began to see local Fire Trucks and their Firemen standing at attention giving their stoic tributes & respect as we slowly passed by. People were now stopping their cars and filming, cheering, saluting, and paying their respects also along the escort route. As we turned east on Barstow Avenue off Clovis Avenue, we eventually headed past Clovis High School, where now hundreds of people were lining the streets – school administrators & teachers, students and numerous people once again pulled over to cheer on and wave our precious US flag in honor of this somber celebration. Then we passed under a huge American flag hoisted up between two Clovis FD Hook & Ladder trucks, I about lost it in the emotional choking of emotion that swept over me and many of the escorting riders. We then
headed north to Herndon Avenue and then turned on a side street to weave into the backside of the awaiting park destination. Along this small Coventry Avenue path, hundreds of schoolchildren from Cedarwood Elementary School, our last school we would pass by, were out enmasse in a joyous fervor of flag waving enthusiasm I have never witnessed before. In talking with many of the veterans and riders afterwards, the thing that struck us hardest most was the patriotic reactions of the schoolchildren as we passed by the numerous schools. The future of our country will survive intact if patriotic and levelheaded kids like these will one day be in charge and help shape the future of our country.
The travelling “Wall That Heals” 3/4 scale version of the original Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall is a living testament to the memory and education to the masses of the Vietnam War. It was
erected at David McDonald Park from October 9-12, 2025, for 24-hour viewing and visitation to the public. The trailer rig housed a mobile Education Center, featuring several viewing areas to show Vietnam War artifacts and educational panels highlighting various war information. As of now, there are approximately 58,281 names inscribed on The Wall, and highlighted several hundred Central Valley Vietnam War soldiers with their service pictures, branch & rank, and background information. It was a very moving and impactful tribute to the depth of the families impacted in dealing with the loss of a soldier family member.
The event hosts provided a nice lunch after we arrived
and honored us with an event riding pin for our vests, which we greatly appreciated. The veterans and riders all fellowshipped together as we ate, and many new acquaintances and friendships were formed during our reminiscing about the escort and various aspects of our lives. We viewed the Educational Center windows on the trailer and were grateful for the insights and personal stories behind the military service of our brave patriots. I will never forget being one of the honored motorcycle escorts on this ride and will forever cherish it in my precious memories forever.
(Facebook Group: Sword & Shield Riders CMA)
The Wall That Heals
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The Freedom Memorial
Sarah Jackman WRITER
There is a quiet corner in Hanford where the noise of the world fades. Flags shift in the breeze, boots scuff against concrete, and the air feels heavier somehow. It is not sorrow. It is gratitude.
The Freedom Memorial sits tucked inside the Kings County Government Center. If you are not looking for it, you might miss it. Polished black stone carved with the names of those who never made it home. Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines from right here in our valley. Each one a story that began in a house not so different from yours.
It is easy to drive past without noticing. But if you stop, if you really stop, you feel it. The reflection in the granite is not just light and shadow. It is a reminder that the people etched there once stood
where you do now. They had lives, jokes, families, and favorite songs. Then they put on a uniform and went where they were needed. I have stood there more than once. Sometimes alone. Sometimes with a crowd on Memorial Day morning when the wind cuts through the flag lines and the names seem to carry on it. Every visit feels different, but the silence always says the same thing. Remember them.
In 2012, nine new names were added to the wall. Nine families stood still while their loved ones were called out. Cameras caught the ceremony, but not the part that mattered most: the hand that lingered on the new engraving, the eyes that closed for a second too long. Those moments are why the wall exists. They keep the cost of service from slipping into the background
noise of everyday life. Kings County has always been proud of its people. We raise workers, dreamers, and quiet leaders. We send them out into the world, hoping they come home again. The Freedom Memorial is for the ones who did not.
If you ever find yourself near the Government Center, stop for a minute. Walk the path. Read a few names. You do not have to know who they were. It is enough
to know they were ours.
As a veteran, I see more than stone. I see the weight of promises kept. I see the people who carried burdens most will never understand. That wall carries them now. It holds what is left for the rest of us to remember.
The Freedom Memorial does not need speeches or fanfare. It already says everything that needs saying. It stands quietly, patient and steady, like the people it honors.
Next time you drive by, slow down. Let the flags catch your eye. Let the names remind you that freedom was never free, but it was earned right here by people who called this valley home.
1. “Freedom Memorial,” Kings County Veterans Services Office, accessed October 23, 2025, https://www. countyofkingsca.gov/departments/ general-services/veterans-services/ freedom-memorial
2. “Service honors fallen at Kings County Freedom Memorial,” ABC30 Fresno, May 22, 2012, https:// abc30.com/archive/8671079/
