The Story of George H Neeley, by Mary Millsaps (co-founder of Operation Angel Wing)
George H. Neeley was my Grandfather, and will forever be my greatest hero. He raised me as a young child and instilled in me the foundation of love and faith in my God, family and Country that I stand on today. I began this event in 2016 in honor of his military service and all our Veterans who have so bravely protected the freedoms of this great Nation.
Born on July 7th, 1922, in Prestonsburg KY, he was the youngest of three boys. At the age of eighteen, with only a Grade School education and working as a builder, he answered the call to defend our Nation. In August of 1940, George followed his two older brothers and his childhood best friend (also named George) into the United States Army at Fort Thomas, KY. From there, he spent over five years in the Asiatic-Pacific Theater as a Private First Class, Infantry Rifleman 745 in Company D of the 162nd Infantry Regiment, fighting bravely in the New Guinea Campaign. All three brothers made it back home after the war, but his best friend was killed in action while pushing a boat through the swamps of what George later referred to as, “That God forsaken jungle.”
To most, my Grandfather was just another combat soldier with a sixth grade education who came from the humble and poverty stricken region of the Appalachian Mountains in east KY. But to me, he was a wonderful and gentle giant of a man. I grew up listening to incredible stories of a war not described in the history books of my time. I remember how his eyes would look far beyond our mountains and his voice would sometimes crack as he spoke of the war. He always wore the olive-green slacks and button down, double-pocket long sleeve shirts with a white T-shirt underneath—no matter the weather. He spoke gently and stood proudly even after his body began to bend with age. My Grandfather struggled to make sense of a war that he fought in for over five years of his life until the day he died. I remember vividly the flashbacks and nightmares that haunted him throughout his years. Remnants of a war that also forged within him the unshakable character, integrity and loyalty to his God, family and Country that defined him and made him a defender of all things oppressed or vulnerable. And though some saw him as just another old war Veteran, he was so much more to me.
He was also the man who took in a newborn girl, abandoned by her mother. My Grandmother, a five foot tall, fiery red-headed Irish woman, snatched me up and gave me a good Irish name and placed me in the loving arms of that old beat up war Veteran. He was forevermore known to me as Paw. He raised me as his own daughter and instilled those same values in me and I am forever grateful. They say that all good stories have a struggle, a journey and a hero. My journey has been long and my struggles have been many, but I have endured and stand strong today because of the hero in that journey—my Paw.
This is the man we honor today.