Many of us have traveled by the lakeside promenade named Milton Olive Park unaware of the deep history, and one man’s important legacy, represented by that marker. With this week’s cover story, “Milton’s Gift,” Tribune reporter Don Terry explains the significance of a man whose sacrifices have gone unrecognized by many, forgotten by others, yet remembered by a few–and ensures that a hero is granted his place in history. Sometimes, the editor’s biggest job is to get out of the way of the story, so let me turn this over to Don.
— E.T.
Milton Olive has been in my head and heart for 36 years, since a spring day in Room 104 at Shoesmith School in Hyde Park-Kenwood.
It was 1966 and my 4th-grade teacher pinned a newspaper photograph of Pvt. Olive on the bulletin board. She looked sad and serious. He looked young and alive. His doe eyes stared out at us, through the window and out into Farmer’s Field where we played baseball and army at recess.
The teacher said the young soldier on the wall was from the South Side and had been posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.
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I had no idea what “posthumous” meant and I prayed that, whatever its meaning, it would not be on the next spelling test. But I had watched enough war movies to know that the Medal of Honor was a big deal.
Just when I started thinking how cool it was to be awarded such a medal, the teacher said posthumous meant the boy in the picture was dead. She said he had given his life to save the lives of four of his fellow soldiers in Vietnam by jumping on a hand grenade.
I was amazed that someone would do something like that for someone who wasn’t his mother or little sister.
The country, my teacher said, should never, ever forget its heroes.
I made a silent vow that day that I never would.
With this story, I hope I’ve kept my word.
— Don Terry