In Memoriam
Jay W. Hubbard
Brigadier General, USMC (Retired)
16 June 1922 - I January 2003
"High Flight"
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed. sanctity of space
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
Memorial
Remarks by
THE
PRAYERS OF THE PEOPLE
HYMN: Eternal
Father strong to save.
Lord guard and guide the men who fly Through the great spaces in the sky Be with them always in the air In dark'ning storms or sunlight fair, 0 hear us when we lift our prayer For those in peril in the air.
Eternal Father grant we pray To all Marines, both night and day The courage, honor, strength and skill, Their land to serve, Thy law fulfill Be Thou the shield forevermore From every peril to the Corps.
THE
BLESSING
BRIGADIER
GENERAL JAY W. HUBBARD
Graduated from Huntington Park High School in Los Angeles where he met Dorla Dean Keff, his wife for 60 years.
Enlisted in the United States Marine Corps on August 20, 1940 with his high school buddy, Les Brown, and after graduating from boot camp at Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego, served on the battleship Mississippi in the Pacific and the North Atlantic.
Following Pearl Harbor, commissioned a Second Lieutenant on November 2, 1942, and served as a platoon commander in the 2nd Raider Battalion in the Bougainville landing and then with the 4th Marine Regiment in the Emirau, Guam and Okinawa campaigns. After World War II, volunteered for and was accepted into Naval Flight School, and earned his wings in 1947.
As a Marine Fighter Attack pilot, had over 165 combat missions flying the F4U Corsair as the Executive Officer of VMF-312 "Checkerboards" in the Korean War, and the A-4 Skyhawk as the Commanding Officer of Marine Aircraft Group 12 in Viet Nam. Other assignments included Commanding Officer of the VMF-235 "Death Angels" and the VMF-232 "Red Devils."
After promotion to Brigadier General in 1969, served as Director of Information for the Marine Corps, and then as Commanding General of the 4th Marine Aircraft Wing.
Following retirement from the Marine Corps in 1972, appointed the Director of Police for Memphis, Tennessee and then relocated to Orange County, California in 1975.
Served as National Commander of the Marine Corps Aviation Association, and is a member of the "Golden Eagles." In 1989, he was a founder of the Marine Corps Aviation Museum at Marine Corps Air Station El Toro, and served as the First Chainnan from 1989 to 1994. After the museum was relocated to Marine Corps Air Station Miramar, the museum building was named in his honor.
In May 2001, an FJ4 jet aircraft from the VMF-232 "Red Devils" was placed in theNational Museum of Naval Aviation in Pensacola, Florida, with his name and call sign.
Military awards include the Silver Star,Legion of Merit (four awards), Distinguished Flying Cross, Air Medal (twelve awards), Navy Commendation Medal with Combat "V", Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with Gold Star, Combat Action Ribbon and Purple Heart.
General Hubbard is survived by his wife Dorla and four children, Clint, Diana, Glenn and Brad, eleven grandchildren and five great grandchildren.
OPENING
ANTHEM (All Stand)
HYMN:
0 God our Help in Ages Past
0 God our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home. Before the hills in order stood, Or earth received her frame, From everlasting Thou art God, To endless years the same.
A
thousand ages in Thy sight, Are like an evening gone, Short as the watch that
ends the night Before the rising sun. Time, like an ever-rolling stream, Bears
all its sons away; They fly forgotten, as a dream, Dies at the opening day. 0
God our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Remain our guard while
life shall last, And our eternal home.
PRAYER
THE
EPISTLE (please be seated)
Romans 8
PSALM
23 (In Unison)
The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his Name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
THE
GOSPEL (Please stand)
John 14
MEMORIAL
REMARKS:
Lieutenant Colonel Clinton L. Hubbard,
USMCR (Ret)
Lieutenant General William G. Thrash, USMC
(Ret)
General Carl E. Mundy, Jr., USMC (Ret)
Robert Johnson
BRIDGE
OVER TROUBLED WATERS
HOMILY:
Chaplain Victor H. Krulak, Jr.
Memorial
Remarks by
Around Thanksgiving last year, I called Jay to see how he was doing, to tell him that my wife and I would be coming out for Christmas with our son and his family at Camp Pendleton, and that I looked forward to stopping by for a visit. We talked for a while, and during our conversation, Jay told me that he believed his days were becoming fewer, and he asked that when this day came, I come and say a few words to you. I told him that his request was then -- as it is now -- one of the greatest privileges I’ve ever been accorded. Jay has long been one of my heroes, and I am greatly honored to have the opportunity to say a few words about him.
At the same time, saying those words is a daunting challenge, because to try and sum up Jay Hubbard in the space of only a few minutes is near impossible.
Moreover, as I look out at this gathering, with so many of you who knew Jay so long and so well … lived with him … worked with him … served and flew with him … skiied … panned for gold … and yes, on those rare occasions ...“partied” with him, I find myself wondering why I’m up here. There are many among you better qualified than me to talk about this great man. Fortunately, there will be a couple of others to follow me in doing that.
But back to “Why me?” My first thought is that perhaps it was Jay’s way of assuring that I stay “tight” with the Marine Corps aviation community, which he knew I admire so greatly. Jay is one of the few I ever told that in my early career, I almost became an aviator -- until I met up with an unyielding flight surgeon. I was telling Jay this up at El Toro a few years back, and when I finished, he looked at me with that twinkle of a smile he had and said, “Yeah, it’s too bad you couldn’t become a pilot … but at least, they let you be the Commandant!”
In a more serious vein, it may be that Jay knew that his legacy is recorded indelibly in the master log-book of Marine aviation, and that there would be plenty of old flying buddies here to say some words about him. Perhaps he wanted to ensure that some of the words spoken recorded him -- more completely --as the essence of what a Marine – regardless of military specialty – is all about.
If you stop to think about it: … a fifth of Jay’s career was spent as a ground Marine; …
something over half the time he spent fighting our nation’s wars was on the ground; …
among the most vicious battles he fought in his three wars were those as a Marine Raider and infantry officer at Bougainville, Emirau,Guam,and Okinawa --- some of World War II’s toughest battles.…
and finally, he is one of very few – or maybe of the only two -- Marines to have piloted a jet off an aircraft carrier, but only after having first cut his teeth at sea as a corporal and Gun Captain of a 5 inch battery aboard a battleship.
Indeed, in the world’s premiere air-ground team, comprised of “Soldiers of the Sea”, Jay Hubbard could coach any position, on either side of the field.
Many here know Jay’s saga. It has all the flair and episodes to make a great Hollywood movie --and that might ought to be pursued, but with Gary Cooper, Randolph Scott, and John Wayne gone, it would be hard. Somehow, Ben Afleck just doesn’t match my character image of Jay Hubbard!
At age 18, Jay came down from northern California, and with his best – and lifetime – buddy, Les Brown, joined the Marines. They went to boot camp together; graduated at the top of their platoon; qualified for a “cream of the crop” assignment to Sea School and then Sea Duty aboard the battleship MISSISSIPPI; sailed around Iceland in the days just before the outbreak of World War II chasing a German Raider, and got back to the West Coast just after the outset of the war.
The two young sergeants applied for officers’ training together, and while waiting, got their commanding officer’s permission, an extra 15 gallon gas ration, took a long weekend, and eloped in Jay’s 1940 Mercury convertible with their sweethearts, Dorla and Jeannie, to Yuma, where they were married in the same ceremony.
Soon thereafter, and without going to officers’ school, Jay outran his buddy Les, and was commissioned second lieutenant. That would separate them for the remainder of the war, but they would come together again afterward, repeat their joint marriage ceremony, go to flight training together, fulfill their dreams of becoming Marine pilots, and be promoted all the way through brigadier general together.
There’s much more to that wonderful friendship -- enough to fill the afternoon -- but I only have a few minutes. However, I couldn’t wind it up without relating at least one special episode that characterizes Jay’s fun-loving attitude toward life. After he was commissioned, Jay wound up in a Replacement Draft in New Caledonia awaiting assignment to a unit. While there, he got word that Les Brown, still a sergeant was aboard a transport ship that would be dropping anchor for a couple of days in the port. Jay records that he wrote up a set of orders, signed a made-up name on them, commandeered a boat, and made his way out to the ship. He reported to the Officer of the Deck that he had sealed orders for Sergeant Les Brown and that the mission would necessitate that he be gone from the ship overnight. The Navy OOD bought it and sent for Brown, who reported to Lieutenant Hubbard with several salutes. The two made their way back down the accommodation ladder into the small-boat and to the pier. Once ashore, they proceeded -- as Jay colorfully put it -- to “get roaring drunk”. The following day, Jay returned Les to the ship, and reported to the OOD: “I just can’t tell you how Sergeant Brown performed; it will be a matter of record!”
I met Jay for the first time when I was a major sitting outside the door to the Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps’ office as his aide-de-camp. One day in September, 1968, my door swung open and an officer who looked boyish enough to be, perhaps a major, or at most a lieutenant colonel, stuck out his hand and said, “Hi! I’m Jay Hubbard; the newest boot brigadier general in the Marine Corps, and I need to pay a call on the Assistant Commandant!”
Now, at that stage of my career, the generals I had come to know seemed pretty lofty, and I had certainly never met one who introduced himself by his first name. But this one was different, and that began my “Hubbard watch”.
Jay’s assignment on the Headquarters staff was Director of Information -- more simply -- the Public Affairs Officer of the Marine Corps. Typically, he took on the job with the notion that even in the hand-wringing, stomach-knotting atmosphere of Washington during the war in Vietnam, a job should be fun. A close friend of mine was a major on Jay’s staff. He related that the general was a man of action, not given to lengthy, monotonous briefings full of inconsequential details. He wanted to know the issue, the alternatives, and a plan of action to resolve it. His technique of training his staff to get through the chaff to the point was to keep a bottle with a Vodka label on it in his desk drawer. After a few minutes, as the staff officer droned on, Jay would pull out the bottle, pour himself a shot in his coffee mug, and down it. If the briefer kept going, he would pour two shots and down them. By that time, the briefer had usually gotten the word! My friend also related that the bottle was always full when Jay pulled it out, so the staff felt sure it was water -- but they never asked, and Jay never said!
Among the many great fraternal and supporting organizations of the Marine Corps, the most active, organized, productive, close-knit, and high-moraled, is the Marine Corps Aviation Association. In terms of both purpose and camaraderie, it outshines the others. Jay was one of the pioneers of the MCAA. Indeed, some would give him far more credit than that. In a tribute to him at the Association’s 30th Convention, General J.K. Davis – another of the Corps’ great leaders -- noted that when the Association took fledgling form, it had no organization or operating funds, but -- in his words -- “Enter Brigadier General Jay Hubbard!” Jay, probably more than anyone else, was the driving force that brought this great organization into being and shepherded it through not just its early years, but its entire lifetime to date. The Association reflects his character, and is a living memorial to his love of aviation.
General Hubbard mustered out of the Corps in 1972, but as his friend, Colonel Tom O’Hara, put it so well: “Jay never retired from the Marine Corps; he was merely released from active duty.”
Like with the MCAA, when a decision was made some years ago to create a West Coast Marine Corps Aviation Museum, again, “enter Jay Hubbard”. He became its Chairman, first at El Toro and now here at Miramar, and pushed its evolution with the same determination, untiring energy, and inspirational leadership that marked the way he went about everything he undertook.
Yes, Jay Hubbard accomplished a lot. However, like those truly great men in history who are remembered not so much for what they did as for who they were, Jay’s forte lay in his skills with and concern for people. I’ve known many leaders who could inspire and who were held in varying degrees of esteem and affection by those they led, but I've known only a couple whose people downright loved them, and Jay Hubbard was one of those.
The most revered title for an officer of Marines is not colonel or general or even commandant. Those are titles of rank, or position, bestowed by the institution. In our Corps, the greatest titular tribute that can be bestowed is given by those who serve under an officer. It isn’t bestowed formally or officially; it can’t be bestowed by a senior; and you don’t wear anything different when it comes to you. The title is “Skipper”, and it is bestowed only through the individual respect and affection of those you lead.
I was privileged to be on hand at the Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola year before last when the “Red Devils” of VMF-232 --circa 1957 --arranged to have an FJ-4 “Fury” which Jay and some of them had flown in the squadron 44 years earlier painted with their squadron markings and unveiled and dedicated to Jay at a Squadron reunion. It was a tremendous affair, and a tribute that obviously meant a great deal to him. Thirty-eight of the forty-two pilots who served in the squadron while Jay was in command attended, as well as his Plane Captain, PFC Jim Howard. The affection for Jay was palpable … but I was most struck by the fact that while one or two may have called him “Jay”, no one spoke of “the general” or “the CO”. Almost to the man, they referred to him only as “the Skipper”. Forty-four years later, with a bunch of mid-60’s and 70 year olds, and Jay was still their “Skipper” -- as he is with many here today, and as the moving piece by Don Macaulay --one of his “Red Devils” -- which each of you has, attests so meaningfully.
I was on hand for an equally-- if not more -- moving testimonial of this sort a month ago – the day after Christmas -- when I visited Jay in the hospital in Laguna Niguel. He was heavily sedated, and in effect, “out of it”. Along with a host of other family and friends, Bob Johnson --another of his “Red Devils” -- had flown in from Florida. When I went in to visit, Bob was there, holding Jay’s hand and saying periodically, “Come on, Skipper … wake up … you can make it”, as though he were a wingman encouraging his wounded leader in for a smooth landing. When I left an hour later, Bob was still there, hand in hand: “Come on, Skipper.”
Jay Hubbard was a “Skipper” to far more people than he likely ever realized. His devotion to those of all walks -- but especially Marines -- his support to them in times of need, his positive leadership and uplifting character, attitude, and humor were all defining characteristics of this great man. Describing him to me, Colonel Eleanor Wilson – another stalwart of the MCAA -- said: “It’s as though Jay was everybody’s Commanding Officer. All of those things a good CO would do for those he leads is what Jay did for everybody!”
And so, we come to say farewell to a fine man, a devoted and loving husband, father, and grandfather, a “Skipper”, and one of the most magnificent Marines ever to have worn our uniform. I, for one, am tremendously grateful to our Maker that he gives America men the likes of Jay Hubbard; that Jay chose to become a United States Marine; and that I had the privilege of knowing and admiring him, and calling him “friend”.
Semper Fidelis, Jay.
Memorial Remarks by Robert Johnson
This is a privilege and honor for me, to give this tribute on behalf of the officers and men who served under Jay Hubbard in VMF-232.
Dorla, Clint, Diana, Brad, Glen: Our lives have been saddened also and I hope you know that each of us, in our own way, share your grief at the loss of your husband and father. Today…while we mourn his loss… we also celebrate his life.
“Not A Squadron Commander – but THE Squadron Commander”
I’ve plagiarized these words from the article written about Jay Hubbard by our good friend and squadron mate, Don Macaulay. This is all about THE squadron commander, OUR squadron commander… as he was always affectionately and reverently known… “THE SKIPPER.”
For more than 45 years I have been honored…and my life has been enriched… to have had the Skipper as my friend.
Many Marines were aware of his professional reputation, but only a select few…those of us who knew him as Red One…were fortunate enough to serve and fly with him, and came to know what a truly great Marine…and aviator… he was.
To have known him, and especially to have been a “friend” of his, profoundly affected the lives of all of us in 232. He wasn’t flashy, he wasn’t loud, but we knew when he was present. He had an unmistakable magnetism that drew our attention when he walked into the room. As junior officers, we quickly became aware that our Skipper had been part of a Marine Corps we could only read about. He possessed a demeanor of firm command, that was impressive and was unquestioned and respected. He wore the mantle of leadership easily…and he relished it. Under his leadership, we were continually challenged, yet never pushed beyond the limits of our capabilities. To strive for perfection was his trademark and anything less was unacceptable. Individually we were evaluated by the exceptional standard he set for himself.. and we had to measure up or we were headed elsewhere. This was especially true of the aggressive airmanship he expected of each of his Red Devils. Whether it was in air to air gunnery or one on one hassles, he was the mark to beat. There was no slack for the unfit, or unprepared, or our six belonged to him. We didn’t dare look bad in the landing pattern. I can’t think of anything worse for a pilot in 232, to have flown a sloppy wing or made a lazy break into the pattern and then return to the ready room to find that bold, red circle around your name with a line leading to…“see me, JWH.” After reporting to him, the next few minutes were not enjoyable… but we learned from the experience.
He had a great sense of humor and a huge capacity for having fun when we weren’t working. Isn’t that right Dorla? Our Friday afternoon happy hours, and the frequent squadron parties, produced some incredibly wild and funny stories…I’m sure some will be retold later today. We had frequent, formal, “dining in” nights, always with a “distinguished guest”, who was usually an itinerant very senior officer or a special civilian friend of his. After working our way through the required protocol for a dining in… beginning with his potent version of Fish House Punch, the appropriate meal courses and wines, we concluded with the requisite toasts. The final toast however, was strictly a 232 invention. When our brandy pony glasses were refilled for the last time and the Skipper had made the toast…they were ceremoniously lit on fire and as one…we threw down our “flaming hookers.” The ashen and sometimes frightened look on the face of our unsuspecting guest, as we looked at him to join us was frequently the highlight of the evening…and the Skipper loved it. He showed us how to work hard and play hard, always right to the limits.
Some in 232 were fortunate to have flown with the Skipper previously in VMF-235 in Atsugi, Japan. They remember when he first joined 235 as a senior officer who had come late to jets so had very little experience in them. Instead of starting out as a division leader as his rank entitled him, he told the schedules officer to put him in as number four man while he learned. After a couple weeks he said, “Ok, I think I’ve got that figured out so you can schedule me as a section leader.” He became a skilled fighter pilot, deservedly leading divisions and of course, ultimately squadrons. His attitude was… that in the air… rank didn’t count… only skill mattered. When he took command of 232 it was a given that incoming senior officers had to earn the right to lead.. so lieutenants often led divisions with Captains and Majors as wingmen.
Loyalty is a term that is often too freely used, but with the Skipper it was a way of life. He expected it from us and in return he took care of his guys, seeing that they got jobs and promotions they deserved later in their careers…long after the golden days of the Red Devils. There are a number here today, myself included, who have benefited from that. His sense of loyalty went all the way down through the ranks. He knew almost every enlisted man by name, their jobs and their personal problems when necessary. They knew he cared and they gladly worked their butts off for him. As a result their efforts were a significant part of our success. When he celebrated a squadron milestone, his men were feted as well. Among other things we almost always saluted them with a low pass, a squadron flyby down the flight line… and they greatly appreciated the recognition. Observing his leadership talents and management skills in the way he ran the squadron, we all learned valuable lessons from him.
He took the 232 Red Devils to great heights; he inspired; he mentored; he criticized but he was never condescending or patronizing… he simply led. The accomplishments of 232 under his leadership are unequaled by any other Marine squadron in peacetime. He led us to the Commandant’s Trophy…to win the air to gunnery competition in the 1958 Naval Air Weapons Meet…to be the first jet squadron to fly ten thousand hours in a year…flying mostly, short, one hour, air to air combat or gunnery flights…we didn’t bore holes… to set an example flying carrier qualifications aboard the USS Bennington that left the Navy amazed at our performance…. and there was more. He led us to be… arguably the greatest combat ready squadron ever. Although the Skippers career included a number of commands and he flew with numerous squadrons, his firm belief had always been… that he considered VMF-232, to be THE BEST SQUADRON in Marine aviation history. A number of us old 232 guys were having dinner last November… reminiscing with him, and he looked down the table, shook his head and reiterated his biggest regret in aviation… that 232 never had the opportunity to take on the MIG’s of our day in combat. He sincerely believed we would have had a squadron full of aces. Because of him… we were awesome…and we believe the Skipper was the EPITOME of every wing commander’s squadron leader.
Will the members and families of 232 who are present please stand.
We who served under him… and have been associated with him over these many years… feel our loss deeply and we will miss him terribly. The magnificent thing however…is that HIS MARK is on us forever! What a plus, as we have continued our lives. We have been truly blessed… to have known Jay Hubbard… and to have called him FRIEND. It is a fact that we who served under him… loved him…and Dorla and your family… we love you as well…and we will be…Semper Fidelis.