Annapolis resident is highly decorated in service to his country

Col. John W. Ripley

There is a certain irony in being immortalized by one structure for blowing up another.

But, there's been no irony in how Marine Col. John W. Ripley has lived a life that has been wilder and more adventurous than any Hollywood action hero. Superman can fold up his cape when Ripley's in the house.

In Vietnam, the Marine rescued the crew of one downed helicopter by loading them onto a second copter. Left behind and wounded, he held off the enemy long enough to extinguish the fire aboard the first copter, and then repair it so it could be flown away.

Months later, under heavy fire on Easter Sunday, 1972, he swung beneath a bridge over several hours, weighted down with his belt and weapon. He packed the bridge's seven steel I-beams with 500 pounds of explosives and, biting gently with his teeth, crimped the percussion caps onto the primer cord. One wrong bite would have blown his skull apart.

He lit the fuse while he was still hand-walking under the bridge.

The Marine would have received the Medal of Honor had a single American witnessed his incredible act of valor. There were plenty of eyewitnesses: two South Vietnamese Marines and, on the opposite shore, 30,000 angry enemy troops.

Col. Ripley's earned a slew of medals, including the Navy Cross, the Silver Star, two awards of the Legion of Merit, two Bronze Stars with Combat "V," a Purple Heart and the Cross of Gallantry. He and one other Marine share the distinction of more combat experience than any other Marine.In the years since, the Marine has fought other battles, on and off the field, and received numerous honors. The Annapolis resident has been a key player in the renovation of the Naval Academy's Memorial Hall. He's also been the creative force behind the new $55 million Marine Corps Museum set to open this fall in Virginia, and he's deeply involved in a Maryland political action group that focuses on veterans affairs.

Last week, on the campus of the Naval Academy Preparatory School, he received a new accolade. He became the rare living Marine to have a building named for him. The school's new barracks, built to house 348 students, was dedicated in honor of the indomitable Col. Ripley, known to many as a Marine's Marine.

"John is an outgoing, larger-than-life person who lives life on the edge," said retired Marine Col. "Iron Mike" Williams. "He's a gentleman but rough and tough when it's required."

The building in Newport, R.I., took years to plan and $14.3 million to build, but only a few minutes to decide whose name should be blazed on the front of the massive three-story building. The large letters spell out "Ripley Hall."

Capt. Charles Hautau, commanding officer of NAPS, recalled a conversation he had last fall with Vice Adm. Rodney Rempt, superintendent of the Naval Academy.

"He was looking for suitable people, NAPS graduates or people in the area to name the building after. It came to light that Col. Ripley is one of our more famous graduates. He's a member of NAPS '58. He hadn't had proper recognition as had other NAPS graduates who'd earned the Navy Cross," Capt. Hautau said.

The school, located in Maryland when Col. Ripley was a student, is a one-year preparatory program for the Naval Academy as well as the Merchant Marine Academy and Coast Guard Academy.

"After Col. Ripley's active duty in Vietnam, he served as an administrator and a teacher," Capt. Hautau said. "He isn't just a warrior's warrior, he's an articulate, well-schooled individual, the balance we look for here."

Impression made

As a young boy, Col. Ripley first encountered Marines in his rural hometown of Radford, Va. Trains packed with Korea-bound enlistees rolled through the town and he'd climb aboard to sell them a nickel newspaper.

The 1957 movie, "Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison," starring Robert Mitchum as a World War II Marine stranded in on a Pacific island with a nun, clinched it for him.

"Holy Cow, that's me," he declared staring at the small town movie screen.

He enlisted in the Marines that year and, shortly after, was selected to attend NAPS. He went on to graduate from the academy in 1962 with a degree in electrical engineering. While there, he set a record on the obstacle course that has stood unbeaten for 44 years.

Trained as a Marine infantry officer, young Lt. Ripley served two tours in Vietnam. During the 1972 North Vietnamese Easter Invasion, the Marine nearly single-handedly destroyed the Dong Ha Bridge.

Marine painter, Col. Charles Waterhouse immortalized the scene in a painting, copies of which hang at NAPS and the Naval Academy. Still, more copies circulate on the internet, fueling the legend.

Author and Marine historian John Grider Miller recounted Col. Ripley's incredible heroism in the book "Bridge At Dong Ha." A deal to turn the book into a movie stalled over a producer's ownership rights and a changing scene in Hollywood.

"With the war in Iraq, Hollywood won't make that movie anytime soon," Mr. Miller said. "But it's a great story. It can wait."

A diorama, "Ripley at the Bridge," has been on display at the entrance to Memorial Hall, inside Bancroft Hall for 21 years.

Recently, Col. Ripley showed it to a visitor. A small figure with a rifle strapped to his back is swinging beneath a bridge with a burning fuse sizzling next to his right ear.

Looking at the miniaturized scene, the colonel exclaimed, "I couldn't believe how big this son of a gun was. FOX-TV took me back to Vietnam to look at it a few months ago."

He pointed out that the bridge had five piers, not the three shown in the diorama. Everything else was accurate, including his filbert-sized helmet, which lay on the ground. He discarded it because it limited his vision.

According to Naval Academy Alumni Association President George P. Watt, Jr., Memorial Hall would not have been restored without Col. Ripley's leadership on the project. During homecoming this fall, the association will dedicate the hall.

"John calls Memorial Hall the Naval Academy sanctus sanctorum - the holiest of holy places. That's where we honor those who've gone before, and, thanks to John, it's been restored to its former dignity and honors those graduates lost in operational line of duty, whether in war or testing an F-14 or aboard the Challenger shuttle. John was the action officer to make that happen. He brought people together."

Academia

After Vietnam, Col. Ripley served with Marine Force Reconnaissance and was an exchange officer with the British Royal Marines in Malaya, and as a commanding officer at the battalion and regimental level.

Eventually, he entered academia, first as a Marine instructor at Oregon State, then the Naval Academy and then commander of the Naval ROTC unit at Virginia Military Institute.

After retiring from the Marines, he was president and chancellor of Southern Virginia University and president of Hargrave Military Academy, before being tapped for director of the Marine Corps History and Museums Division and the Marine Corps Historical Center.

Early in his tenure at Southern Virginia, then an all-female college, he got a late night reception of sorts from a rowdy group of town youth and KeyDets - VMI students who should have known better.

"I could hear 'em out there and some beer cans dropping," he recalled. "I went downstairs and put on some PT gear - running shorts and shirt and some shoes. I got into a position of advantage."

He called the police and informed them of the situation. He told them to put a squad car at the bottom of the hill to block any escape.

"But don't come until I tell you," he said.

"When the police started flashing their light, the guys ran uphill. I hit a guy from the side and rolled him over in a wrestling position, a reverse crucifix," he said.

He realized more men were in the bushes.

"Give up now or I'll come get you," he yelled.

They gave up.

"They were trying to get into the girls' dorm. There would have been worse implications if they'd succeeded."

Women in the military

Col. Ripley's time at Southern Virginia gave him a unique view point of the Navy's acceptance of women. He was part of the administration when the school was sold and switched from an all-female institution to a coed school, an echo of societal changes under way at the Naval Academy.

"The Naval Academy is changing in good ways none of us could have predicted," he said. "The change is reflected in the country and mandates changes in its institutions. I was in the great majority of graduates who were, at first, surprised and shocked when the academy accepted females. When the mission is to produce, combat leaders brought us the issue 'What were we training people for?' "

At the time, women couldn't fly planes or be in combat roles. The Navy accommodated women by removing men. This year, the incoming class is 20 percent women.

"Do we need women? No way this country could accomplish its role and mission without women," the colonel said.

If the Navy acknowledges that it needs women in the service, Col. Ripley sees it as logical to ensure they get trained to the same degree of perfection expected of their male classmates at the academies.

"Those who deny that today, hold a fossilized view of the Academies. Women do as good a job as men - and men do as good a job as women.

"They've earned the doggone right to be here."

Marine Icon

As he sat in Memorial Hall surrounded by plaques bearing names of graduates who died, a docent, former director of admissions Chip Seymour, class of '64, wandered in leading a duckling-line of midshipmen and their parents.

"Col. Ripley!" he said loudly. "Folks, I'm shaking the hand of a genuine hero. This is Col. Ripley. Let me show you what he did in Vietnam."

He led the curious flock away. Left behind, the colonel commented ruefully that it "almost seemed faddish" to heap awards on him.

"There's a whole lot of guys out there who did great things. For heaven's sake, pick one!"

He doesn't take his status lightly.

"You certainly better live up the reputation assigned to you. You don't do anything to cheat them. You must be what they think you are, especially youngsters. No way I'd have done something to discredit my family or the Marine Corps. I'm hyper-aware people are going to look at me and give a valuation to all the things I do."

Col. Ripley has fought incredible personal battles, too. While rescuing 15 wounded or dying soldiers during Vietnam, he was drenched in blood. A few years later, he was diagnosed with Hepatitis B. That, combined with a rare genetic disease, Alpha I Anti-trypsin Deficiency, destroyed his liver.

His first liver transplant in 2002, began to fail within hours. He nearly died before receiving the second liver a few days later from the body of a 16-year-old gunshot victim in Philadelphia.

His sons, Tom and Steve, both former Marines, coordinated the effort to rush the organ and transplant team to his bedside that is worthy of yet another movie about Ripley's life.

Four years later, at 66, the old Marine is in pretty good shape.

He lives with his wife, Moline near the academy. Col. Ripley has another talent: The Warrior can talk baby-talk with the best of them. Friday afternoon, in the kitchen of his elegant Annapolis home, he made chocolate milk for his youngest grandchild, 2-year-old Race. It was his turn to baby-sit the boy.

The colonel's voice took on an Elmer Fudd quality as he pulled out a tiny contraption to blend syrup and milk.

New challenges

At the dedication of Ripley Hall, the retired Marine looked out over the 200 people in the audience and spotted "people I knew 50 years ago."

Several classmates turned out for the dedication, along with a former private from one of the colonel's rifle companies in Vietnam. Among the Navy brass in the audience were Adm. Rempt and the Coast Guard Academy superintendent.

Col. Ripley has received other honors, too. He is the first Marine selected as a Naval Academy Distinguished Graduate. Two years ago, the 22nd Marine Expeditionary Force in Afghanistan named Firebase Ripley in his honor.

He is still busy as a consultant, getting the new museum in Quantico ready for its public debut in November.

"You'll be rocked back on your heels," he said. It's a state-of-the-art wonder."

When Col. Ripley heard the new barracks at NAPS would bear his name, he reminded Superintendent Rempt about Marine tradition: things aren't named for living Marines. If the Marine Corps had been consulted about the building's namesake, it would be denied.

"Sir, this is a Navy building," came the response.

Col. Ripley chuckled. "They didn't ask the Marine Corps."

By Wendy Winters
The Annapolis Capital