I remember Jim as a super nice person in high school. When I see baseball players like Buster Posey, who are such nice people, it has made me think of Jim. It seemed like he was nice with everyone. I'm so sorry to hear that he suffered from his time in Vietnam and that he passed too soon! If anyone knows more about his story I would appreciate knowing. Carrol
Jim played third base on our Sequoia baseball team. After we won the league championship, Jim played Legion ball for the summer before he enlisted in the Marines. He demonstrated his mastery at third base in the Legion play-offs. With a runner in scoring position sometimes the third baseman moves closer to home plate in case of a bunt. But that also means he’s thirty feet from a ground ball that comes off the bat at 140 mph. Jim fielded perfectly during those games and was proud of it. When he left for Camp Pendleton he weighed 175 pounds. When he returned home on his second leave before heading to Vietnam, he weighed 240 and was solid muscle. I’m sure you military folks know these things and I don’t know if I’m supposed to talk about it. Jim told me that at night all of the men, or at least some of the men, were required to fight, real hand to hand, until eventually a camp “champion” prevailed. Jim was that soldier. When he was home on leave, we went to a movie, one of the first Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns, and when leaving some drunken morons made some derogatory and threatening remarks to Jim who was wearing his uniform. Acutely aware of the horrific fight stories Jim had been telling me (how he beat the crap out of fellow soldiers to become “the champion”), Jim removed his belt without them noticing and wrapped it around his hand. Then he turned toward these guys and when I thought he was about to take them down, he looked at them and tears welled in his eyes. He turned toward me and I saw what was in his eyes, not what those guys thought, who believed he was afraid and taunted him while we walked away. What I saw was his compassion. He knew what would happen to those guys if he responded, and he was not afraid for himself, but for them. The next time I saw Jim he was discharged and told me distressing stories about what he was required to do (kill) in Vietnam. Even though he realized he was performing his duty, it destroyed him inwardly and he had few skills to manage the stress. I had very little contact with him then, but I worried that he led a very unhappy life for the most until he crashed his motorcycle a few years later.
Thank you Mike, for sharing your experience with Jim. I remember seeing him at school. I'm gladdened to know more about him, glad he was brave enough to wear a uniform, brave enough to walk away.
Carrol Moran
I remember Jim as a super nice person in high school. When I see baseball players like Buster Posey, who are such nice people, it has made me think of Jim. It seemed like he was nice with everyone. I'm so sorry to hear that he suffered from his time in Vietnam and that he passed too soon! If anyone knows more about his story I would appreciate knowing. Carrol
Michael Campbell
From Randy Fuller:
About Jim Bell
Jim played third base on our Sequoia baseball team. After we won the league championship, Jim played Legion ball for the summer before he enlisted in the Marines. He demonstrated his mastery at third base in the Legion play-offs. With a runner in scoring position sometimes the third baseman moves closer to home plate in case of a bunt. But that also means he’s thirty feet from a ground ball that comes off the bat at 140 mph. Jim fielded perfectly during those games and was proud of it. When he left for Camp Pendleton he weighed 175 pounds. When he returned home on his second leave before heading to Vietnam, he weighed 240 and was solid muscle. I’m sure you military folks know these things and I don’t know if I’m supposed to talk about it. Jim told me that at night all of the men, or at least some of the men, were required to fight, real hand to hand, until eventually a camp “champion” prevailed. Jim was that soldier. When he was home on leave, we went to a movie, one of the first Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns, and when leaving some drunken morons made some derogatory and threatening remarks to Jim who was wearing his uniform. Acutely aware of the horrific fight stories Jim had been telling me (how he beat the crap out of fellow soldiers to become “the champion”), Jim removed his belt without them noticing and wrapped it around his hand. Then he turned toward these guys and when I thought he was about to take them down, he looked at them and tears welled in his eyes. He turned toward me and I saw what was in his eyes, not what those guys thought, who believed he was afraid and taunted him while we walked away. What I saw was his compassion. He knew what would happen to those guys if he responded, and he was not afraid for himself, but for them. The next time I saw Jim he was discharged and told me distressing stories about what he was required to do (kill) in Vietnam. Even though he realized he was performing his duty, it destroyed him inwardly and he had few skills to manage the stress. I had very little contact with him then, but I worried that he led a very unhappy life for the most until he crashed his motorcycle a few years later.
Josephine (Madeline) Vasquez (Ibrahim)
Thank you Mike, for sharing your experience with Jim. I remember seeing him at school. I'm gladdened to know more about him, glad he was brave enough to wear a uniform, brave enough to walk away.