Memorial Day is set aside as a time to remember those in the military who died in service to their country, but in a broader sense those who lost their lives while documenting the experiences of the soldiers who were fighting are also honored. One such truth-teller is a photojournalist whose promising career was cut short when he died during the Vietnam War. Oliver "Ollie" Noonan Jr. was killed in a helicopter crash on August 19, 1969, when he was 29 years old and was already making a name for himself as a driven photographer who searched for the truth. He is buried in a cemetery on Campobello Island, where his mother and grandparents had lived.
      Noonan and his two sisters, Lorene or Lori and Judith, had grown up in Norwell, Mass., but the family had spent summers on Campobello. After Noonan's death, in 1970 the family moved to the island, where his mother, Lorene Gough, had grown up, before moving to Boston and marrying Ollie Noonan Sr. Back on Campobello, she and her husband owned and operated the Friar's Bay Gift Shop.
      Ollie Noonan Sr. was a well-known photographer who worked for the Boston Herald Traveler and the Boston Globe at different times, and his son "followed in his footsteps," says Lori Austin, Ollie Jr.'s younger sister, who, after retiring, has lived on Campobello for about 30 years. For a while father and son worked at competing newspapers, with Ollie Sr. at the Herald Traveler and his son at the Boston Globe. Ollie Jr. was president of the Boston Press Photographers Association, which honored him following his death by initiating an award in his memory given annually to the press photographer and newsreel cameraman of the year.
      Well respected by his colleagues, Ollie Noonan Jr. covered the Boston Celtics and the race riots in Boston, took photos of the Kennedys, Martin Luther King and the civil rights marches in the South and traveled to Europe, where he was when Pope John XXIII passed away. He went to the Vatican, roomed with Cardinal Cushing, the archbishop of Boston, and borrowed a Leica camera and took a photo of the new pontiff, Pope Paul VI, meeting with the cardinal "that went all over the world" and was on the front page of the Boston Globe, Austin relates. A book about Cardinal Cushing shows him holding up the photo that Noonan had taken. He also covered the Beatles when they were in New York City and had met with them back stage from where they were performing. When he came out, the teenage fans "were trying to get my brother's clothes off, as he had touched the Beatles," Austin says. And in the Newseum in Washington, D.C., which is dedicated to news and journalism, there are two photos of Noonan, including one of him with the Beatles.
      Noonan had not been able to join the military since he had asthma but decided to go to Vietnam to take photographs. When he met with his sister in California on his way there, she asked him why he was going. "It's the most photographed war in the world, and I want to be there," he replied. "He enjoyed being with other photographers," Austin recalls.
      When he went to Vietnam, the Associated Press asked him to work for them to help the controversial war. "He got a photo on the front of Time magazine," says Austin. "His pictures were everywhere." While there, he sometimes accompanied the Green Berets, the Army's elite special forces, and also roomed with another photojournalist, Sean Flynn, son of Hollywood legend Errol Flynn, who disappeared in Cambodia the following spring after Noonan died. "He had a nice rapport with all the men," says Austin.
      He also experienced all aspects of the war, from the violence and the guerilla tactics of the Viet Cong, to the fatigue of the soldiers and the heat of the jungle. In a letter home he wrote, "Nothing comes easy here. Everything is earned."
      "He knew what he was getting into," says Austin. "He was in on everything, and he saw a lot." She adds that while he was in Vietnam he "was ready to expose something" that was going on with the war, but she's not sure what it involved.

'My Last Day with Ollie Noonan'
      In his Vietnam War memoir, William Crawford of Winston Salem, N.C., wrote about his friend Noonan in piece titled "My Last Day with Ollie Noonan: A Combat Photographer's Remembrance." The fellow photojournalist last saw Noonan in 1969 "when we spent a long day together interviewing and photographing exhausted grunts as they battled an overpowering North Vietnamese division. The temperature was an unholy 120 degrees, and the strong stench of death poisoned the air in the Hiep Duc Valley, Republic of Vietnam."
      Crawford writes that he and Noonan "bonded instantly because of rock 'n roll and sports. We planned our day's itinerary as the Coaster's 'Yackety Yak' pounded out of my tiny transistor radio. I sang along like crazy to calm my combat nerves. Ollie sang harmony, pausing just long enough to remove his smoldering cigarette from his moustache-framed lips. He cut a striking figure at 29: tall and handsome in his jungle fatigues."
      Crawford relates, "Noonan came to the war zone to experience every photojournalist's dream: combat. Later, his dad would say he went 'in search of the truth.' The young photographer wrote his family: 'If you hear that I am coming back soon, forget it. I like this place. It is really great for a newspaperman.'"
      Working for the Associated Press, he was one of a number of young photographers hired by legendary AP photo chief Horst Faas. "These lensmen would gain immortality for their stark images of the war," Crawford writes.
      Noonan arrived in Hiep Duc, Que Son and Song Chang valleys in the summer of 1969 as the region became "a focal point for big headlines. The Communists mounted a huge offensive against Hiep Duc, a model village for the South Vietnamese government's refugee resettlement program. The powerful 2nd North Vietnamese Army Division infiltrated the area over time on a mission to annihilate Hiep Duc. When they were prematurely discovered by U.S. troops, they revamped their battle plan to just kill as many GIs as possible to take advantage of mounting anti war sentiment in the U.S." Crawford relates. "As temperatures soared, a major August battle erupted. Infantry soldiers dropped like flies from heat exhaustion and withering enemy fire."
      On August 19, 1969, Noonan was embedded with Alpha Company near the Song Chang River. "He experienced a day of fierce fighting against an NVA regiment, with temps reaching 120 degrees. Later in the afternoon he made another fateful decision. He requested a helicopter extraction. He wanted to get his fresh combat film back to Da Nang to be processed quickly." As the chopper took off it was taking heavy small arms fire, but the pilot managed to fly safely to the east by hugging the Nui Lon ridgeline. He made several attempts to land with nearby Bravo Company, but intense fire forced him to abort. Crawford then relates, "The chopper banked steeply toward Hill 101, probably to recon an enemy anti aircraft position. Enemy fire struck the chopper dead on, throwing [Battalion Commander Eli] Howard and Sgt. Major Franklin Rowell out the open doors. The fuel tanks exploded creating a midair fireball. Some of the craft stayed intact as fuselage fragments rained down on the ridgeline."
      At the time, Crawford was trying to coordinate press coverage of the battle and arrange a chopper ride to the area "when amid the chaotic buzz of radio chatter I heard a heart stopping transmission. A nearby battalion commander had been shot down. One of the passengers was an AP reporter. Ollie! [AP colleague] Richard Pyle mentioned his location to me earlier. My heart sank way below my jungle boots."
      After five days of fighting, U.S. forces finally reached the remains of the helicopter, where eight people perished, including the crew. Horst Faas arrived to accompany the advancing GIs and retrieved one of Noonan's cameras. "Several grunts related stories of Noonan feverishly shooting photos, even leaning past a firing helicopter door gunner to capture images of the bedlam. Noonan even laid down his camera to help drag a wounded GI to safety."

Loss 'broke our hearts'
      Noonan's boss at the AP, Horst Faas, and well-known colleague Peter Arnett, who would become known for his work with CNN and the AP, came to visit with his parents on Campobello following his death, as they all began dealing with the loss.
      A Vietnam veteran who was wounded during the battle that left Noonan dead, Paul Critchlow, wrote in the magazine American Heritage: "Noonan's willingness to die while covering a story fascinated me. He risked, and gave, his life because he believed in the truth of his images and what they would tell people at home about the war. He became a hero to me."
      While he was in Vietnam he wrote many letters home and also poetry, putting down in words his experiences and thoughts. He was interested in not just the traumatic aspects of war but also the entire experience. Crawford relates that, to calm down after engagement, Noonan often and listened to tapes of classical music and wrote poems. One of them, which he sent to the obituary department at the Boston Globe for use if he were killed, is at his grave site and is titled "On the Side That's Winning."

The moon hangs like a tear
And I, sensing mortality
But afraid of tomorrow, rush to greet it
Afraid to die
And keep running,
Afraid to realize it may be hopeless
To carry tears on my sleeves
While right behind me, in cloak and gown,
The man's juggling bombs
Like a circus clown
Though the bells toll
They can bomb the land
But not the soul."

     His sister Lori Austin relates, "My heart breaks when I think of how his future was gone. He had so much going for him. He was always highly thought of." She notes that National Geographic had been looking to hire him before he was killed.
      Austin points out that Noonan was also a family man. "Everything for him was the family. He was the most wonderful brother anyone could ask for," she says, observing that the family was all very close when they were growing up in Norwell.
      "I have nothing but love for him," says Austin. "My heart is broken -- all the years that have gone by." Noting the decades he could have been working as a photojournalist, she says, "He had everything. He was loved by everyone. Everyone felt the world of my brother -- everyone."
      "We miss him terribly," says Austin, still choking up after all these years when speaking of her brother. The loss "just broke our hearts. It took the heart right out of the family, as it would for anybody."
      Nearly 55 years after his death, Ollie Noonan Jr. lies in quiet rest in the cemetery by St. Anne's Anglican Church in Welshpool, Campobello Island, close to Friar's Bay and the distant low roar of the deep waters' swirling tides with their ceaseless ebb and flow.