Ray and Harry didn’t know each other in Vietnam, but you wouldn’t know that from the way they talk.
« There’s nobody like this guy, » Harry …
Ray and Harry didn’t know each other in Vietnam, but you wouldn’t know that from the way they talk. « There’s nobody like this guy, » Harry tells me with a grin on his face. « Nobody else could bring thousands of people across America to Washington, all for our veterans. » I met Harry Dill and Ray Manzo, veterans of the 7th Marine Engineer Support Battalion, by chance at a bar in Arlington, Va. They were in town for a reunion, but it wasn’t just to trade war stories or catch up with long-lost friends. For them, it was a chance to help people. Since 1987, Ray has organized the annual meeting of Rolling Thunder, a motorcycle ride through Washington, D.C., that at its peak saw more than a half-million bikers burn rubber to commemorate soldiers who never returned home. What started as an event has evolved into a community, an opportunity to forge new bonds and preserve old ones. Out of everything Ray did in Vietnam—the man won a Bronze Star for his valor in battle—he says nothing compares to the mission of Rolling Thunder. He tells me it’s God’s purpose for him. « There was one firefight where everyone around me was wounded or killed, » he said. « In that moment, I truly think God wrapped his robes around me and said, ‘Ray, be safe. I need you for something else.' » And Ray did something else. After coming back from Vietnam, the Philadelphia native felt estranged from his fellow countrymen. He recalls heckling from college students and protesters for serving in an unpopular war and accusations of being a war criminal from people who did not know anything about him. All he could think about were his brothers-in-arms who remained over there. It ate at him every day.
