FORT LEE, Va. -- Retired Sgt. 1st Class Donald “Doc” Washburn was a veteran of two tours in Vietnam. He saw enough to eventually draw distinctions between those who made it out alive and those who did not. It became the impetus for a career that emphasized teaching Soldiers the finer details of survival.
Today, it is his legacy.
Washburn, who died in 2016, was honored during a July 27 dedication ceremony that renamed Wylie Hall Auditorium the Donald “Doc” Washburn Auditorium. The event included remarks from his son Patrick, Trans. School Assistant Commandant Col. Stephen J. Riley and retired Col. John C. Race Jr.; a bronze bust unveiling; and ribbon cutting.
Among those present for the event were his wife Roselyn, and other members of the Washburn family; Chief of Transportation Col. Jered P. Helwig: and roughly 75 members of the sustainment community.
Race, a former Trans. School assistant commandant who knew Doc Washburn, said the former instructor was as unselfish as they come.
“Doc was a special kind of guy,” he said, “never wanting to share the limelight, never wanting to be singled out for exceptionalism, never putting himself before Soldiers … There was only one Doc Washburn and he had only one goal: to ensure the officers and Soldiers he taught were best prepared as possible to perform their duties as NCOs, platoon leaders or commanders.”
According to the event’s program, Doc Washburn first joined the Navy in 1955, crossed over into the Army in 1959 and served his first tour in 1965. He returned to Vietnam in 1971.
Doc Washburn ended his military career in 1977 following a three-year stint as a Trans. Officer Basic and Advanced Officer Course instructor. He became a Trans. School civilian instructor soon after his retirement, going on to impact thousands of students. Washburn ended his civil service career in 2005.
Washburn’s oldest son Patrick talked about his father’s character during an impassioned speech, shedding light on a complicated man moved by his war experiences and often remembered for his interactive classroom sessions. During one part of his speech, he remembered as a boy seeing pits in father’s legs and asking him from where they came.
“He said they were shrapnel from mortar rounds,” recalled Patrick. “I said, ‘Didn’t you get a medal for that?’… He was like ‘No, I didn’t get a medal for that.’ You’re supposed to get a medal for getting hurt. He’s like, ‘I wouldn’t let them give me one.’ I said, ‘Well, why not?’
“He looked me right in the eye, and said, ‘Because, I still have legs.’”
Doc Washburn’s dedication to his craft was commensurate with his character. Patrick said his father began his day at 4 a.m., worked on lesson plans well into the evening; and got by on roughly four hours of sleep per day, helped by a steady supply of caffeine and cigarettes.
“Most of you had my father at his very best …,” he said to the audience. “My father poured everything he had into all his classes. He put into every student his faith, his dreams, his ambitions – even more so than his own children … because he knew firsthand what many of you would or have already faced.”
Race described Washburn’s efforts a as one for the annals.
“If you look up the words ‘selfless service’ and ‘professionalism’ in the dictionary, you’re going to find Doc Washburn’s photo right next to them,” he said. “He was the epitome of Army Values and made damn sure his students were as professional as possible and prepared as possible.”
Washburn’s work also was lauded by administrators and students. He earned the schoolhouse instructor of the year title “6 or 7 times,” according to the program, and was proclaimed Training and Doctrine Command Instructor of the Year in 1991. Patrick said those awards never amounted to the gratitude shown to him by students.
“Of all the awards and accolades my father got from the Army, the ones he cherished most – that were the closest to his heart – were the individual letters from his students thanking him for the time and wisdom he gave.”
Doc Washburn’s second son, Timothy, who sported a black cowboy hat for the occasion, one similar to the one worn by his father on the program’s cover, said his father was a looming figure.
“He was larger than life,” he said. “The man loved his country, his fellow man and his students beyond anything anybody can ever imagine.”
Timothy said he was touched by his father’s acts of compassion, remembering how he would collect the nametapes of his students who went off to war, placing them on what was called a “prayer tree” he put up in his home.
“He would pray for them each and every day,” he recalled. “As they returned home, he would take the names down.”
Timothy, once a professional bull rider, said his father – who grew up in the Miami area – adopted his signature western attire from his bull rider spectatorship.
“My father would come and watch me every once and a while and started wearing the hats,” he said. “He always kept a little piece of each one of us boys with him.”
Doc’s Washburn’s youngest son, Michael, was not present for the ceremony.
Prior to Doc Washburn’s passing two years ago, he was inducted into the Trans. Corps Hall of Fame. Race said his friend is deserving of all the accolades he has received – including the latest – but would have downplayed any honors he earned.
“He would think we shouldn’t be taking the time to honor him, but to the thousands of Soldiers and officers he taught, mentored and led would think differently,” he said. “It is an honor well deserved and one that will endure for the years to come.
“I only wish I could thank him again for all that he did for the Soldiers of whom he loved and our corps that he served.”
Doc Washburn was 78 years old when he died. He has three grandsons who are active duty Soldiers.
Date Taken: | 08.16.2018 |
Date Posted: | 08.16.2018 16:58 |
Story ID: | 289138 |
Location: | NEWPORT NEWS, VIRGINIA, US |
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