We lost another hero Tuesday. Col. Anthony Labrozzi joined his beautiful wife, Anne, in Heaven. He, battle-worn; he, who answered his country’s call to honor; he, whose life was riven by the plowshare of not one but three wars, has reported in to the angel of angels, the Prince of Peace.
For us, the tears flow. Our eyes are blurred by the moisture of grief, though we know the Colonel is in a place of everlasting grace. And once again, he is with his beloved.
He was a man of action, a soldier’s soldier; a man of spit and polish, and above all, order. The Colonel and Anne blessed this world with four children—Scott, Steven, Tina, and Cara. I was not privileged enough to know his sons. I only know that they are men like their father, stout of faith and strong in the love of their families.
It has been my honor for more than 25 years to know his daughters. I have been to his house at most once in my life. It is a house carpeted with love. His kitchen table is infused by the gentle perfume of tens of thousands of baked cookies and roasted turkeys, absorbed through year after year of family time. His hallways echo with the laughter of his children as they grew up and now with the peals of chatter from his grandchildren. And who can forget the endless summer splash of the pool? This is the life for which he fought, and it embraced him in thanks and goodwill.
Men of the Colonel’s generation use words like honor, liberty, freedom, justice, compassion. For them, these words had tenor and meaning. He and his compatriots took enemy fire for them. Like many of his breed, he was a quiet man—stoic and proud. Yet at the same time, he found a way to be immensely selfless.
If a man’s legacy is judged by the children he leaves behind, then the Colonel’s is secure. His daughters are by no means stoic. I’m rather certain neither one knows what the word means. They are just the opposite—effusive, loving, demonstrative, compassionate to a fault. And these…these are the lives the Colonel fought for. May God bless him.
No one truly leaves this world until there’s no one around who remembers him. We remember Colonel—though our recollections may come to us amidst a flood of tears or through the gauzy haze of time—we remember. We bid you peace now, peace and gentle slumber. Your battle is won.
For us, the tears flow. Our eyes are blurred by the moisture of grief, though we know the Colonel is in a place of everlasting grace. And once again, he is with his beloved.
He was a man of action, a soldier’s soldier; a man of spit and polish, and above all, order. The Colonel and Anne blessed this world with four children—Scott, Steven, Tina, and Cara. I was not privileged enough to know his sons. I only know that they are men like their father, stout of faith and strong in the love of their families.
It has been my honor for more than 25 years to know his daughters. I have been to his house at most once in my life. It is a house carpeted with love. His kitchen table is infused by the gentle perfume of tens of thousands of baked cookies and roasted turkeys, absorbed through year after year of family time. His hallways echo with the laughter of his children as they grew up and now with the peals of chatter from his grandchildren. And who can forget the endless summer splash of the pool? This is the life for which he fought, and it embraced him in thanks and goodwill.
Men of the Colonel’s generation use words like honor, liberty, freedom, justice, compassion. For them, these words had tenor and meaning. He and his compatriots took enemy fire for them. Like many of his breed, he was a quiet man—stoic and proud. Yet at the same time, he found a way to be immensely selfless.
If a man’s legacy is judged by the children he leaves behind, then the Colonel’s is secure. His daughters are by no means stoic. I’m rather certain neither one knows what the word means. They are just the opposite—effusive, loving, demonstrative, compassionate to a fault. And these…these are the lives the Colonel fought for. May God bless him.
No one truly leaves this world until there’s no one around who remembers him. We remember Colonel—though our recollections may come to us amidst a flood of tears or through the gauzy haze of time—we remember. We bid you peace now, peace and gentle slumber. Your battle is won.
We knew him as Mad Anthony or the Mad Italian when he commanded the 1/7 Cavalry in Vietnam. I was a company commader under his command and Tony was a commander's commander. Hard because he cared about men and their lives. He will always stand out of one of the most influential people I have ever known.
ReplyDeleteGarry Owen, my friend.
Richard Taylor
I stand and salute one tough old bird. My admiration for his service as an infantryman in three wars is boundless. I served at the same time as Colonel Labrozzi in 1/7 Cavalry in Vietnam, 1970, and remember him well.
ReplyDeleteGarry Owen, my warrior brother.
John Talbott
Marietta, GA
I wanted to post a comment here, My brother served in Vietnam he was in the 1st Cavalry Division. He lives in upstate New York now, anyways I just ordered and recieved a copy of U.S News & World Report January 28th 1971 there is a picture of my brother in there and article about Base Green, moral, bordom, drugs and race relations at Base Green. Article also mentions Colonel Labrozzi and Captain Taylor. I retired from the USAF in 3002 after 27 years, I was not in Vietnam, but I am proud of the men who served over there. Robert Huffman (brothers name is Don) USAF RET SMSgt
ReplyDeletehuff9882002@yahoo.com
He was my papa. I miss him so much!!! He is still the person I most admire and I hope to follow in his footsteps. Rest in peace Papa...
ReplyDeletei was his driver in 1979 the year he retired from the army, the colonel was almost always the first man to be work in the mornings and worked harder than just about anybody there, he will always have this drivers utmost respect
ReplyDelete