Melvin Lee Morrow, Jr., was tall, thin and straight. His face was parched from the Vietnamese sun, and his jungle fatigues were a size too big. A loss of 20­25 pounds was not unusual among infantry company commanders. He was a Southerner and had the drawl to prove it. What stood out about him was his voice–slow, methodical and easy. It was a voice that exuded confidence and had a calming effect on his men in tight situations.

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I've known many captains in the Army. I've served under them as an enlisted man; I've served alongside them; and I've had a good number serve under me. But Lee Morrow is the best Army captain I have ever known. This is no snap judgment. I first met Morrow more than 25 years ago, so I've had a bit of time to reflect. I only knew him a matter of months in 1969, but I was impressed with how he handled himself as a company commander during heavy fighting.

A commander I once knew had a saying that has stuck with me through the years: 'There is no substitution for results.' There were soldiers who presented a better appearance, gave sharper salutes, and stood taller on the parade fields, but none of them could hold a candle to Morrow. He got results in combat, where it counted. There was no one cooler under fire, no one who functioned better under stress, and no one who could better take up the slack when his commander lost communications in the middle of an enemy attack. Morrow was brave but not foolhardy. He knew to just what degree to put himself in harm's way to gain the confidence of his men, and to inspire them to do what he wanted. He knew which buttons to push to get the results he expected, and his clear, concise commands were easy to understand.

Upon returning from my second tour in Vietnam, I did not want to look back. After seeing the horror of war, I tried to block it out and put the past behind me. I just wanted to forget. I kept in contact with only a few of those with whom I served, and Lee Morrow was not one of them. It has been only in the last few years that I have wanted to reflect on what happened in Vietnam. While reflecting, Lee Morrow came to mind.

Less than two hours after I had taken command of the 2nd Battalion, 12th Infantry (2/12), I left Fire Base Pershing by helicopter to visit two of my companies out in the bush. We stopped first at Company C, commanded by Captain Morrow. Major Parrish, my operations officer, introduced us. Morrow had a firm handshake and a good grasp of his mission and how he intended to carry it out. His quiet intensity gave me the impression that he was an officer I could count on.

That night, Morrow's company was in a vicious firefight. With one dead and several wounded, Company C was holding off the attackers but using lots of ammunition. Brigade headquarters notified me that a command helicopter was on the way. Parrish and my artillery liaison officer, a Lieutenant Johnson, were on standby.

The combat area was not hard to spot from the air as we approached in the chopper. The rifle flashes gave an eerie outline of the perimeter. Morrow had his company in a rectangular night defensive position. He had a blinking light on each corner of his perimeter and one on the interior to show where he wanted us to land. He agreed to put out maximum firepower once we started our descent. I told him we would evacuate as many of the wounded as we could.

I took a deep breath as we began our descent. Guns were blazing like crazy as we landed without incident, kicking out the ammo almost before the struts touched down. I saw Morrow, and we both tried to talk over the roar of the chopper, to no avail. In all of about 30 seconds, we had dropped off the ammunition, picked up the wounded, and were off again. During the mad scramble to get the wounded aboard, someone handed me something wrapped in a blanket. It wasn't until later that I found out what it was.

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