‘He was our hero’: Vietnam War veteran Fred Norris remembered for his heart
Fred Norris will be remembered as an American hero, even though there's no medal to his name, no page in a history book hailing his actions.
A moment on the battlefields of Vietnam turned a young Black man with a speech disability from Evansville into one, whether he liked it or not. When he leapt into action and saved a man's life, Norris said he was looking out for his comrade. Another man who was scared, just like him.
For more than 47 years, his stories went without recognition, only to be shared at the barbershop, phone calls that went far beyond a quick “hello” and in friendships tethered by the horrors of war. Norris shared his experience with IndyStar earlier this year.
Fred Norris raced into danger to save a downed pilot in Vietnam. Why wasn't he honored?
Norris died Aug. 24. He was 76. And although he was never recognized by the powers that be, those who have heard his stories continue to admire him and his bulletproof integrity.
“He was our hero,” said Phil Styles, a longtime friend who served with Norris in Vietnam.
A rescue
In late 1965, while bullets from the Viet Cong hurled toward his vulnerable body, Norris watched a helicopter crash onto the landscape, downed by those same enemy bullets. There was an injured pilot inside.
Norris did not retreat. Rather, he started to sprint to the downed pilot. Four of his comrades followed suit, and together they carried their fellow Marine to safety.
Norris led the rescue.
“He was the first one that jumped up,” Styles said. “You have to think to yourself, ‘would I have done that?’”
Despite his courageous efforts that day, Norris never received any official recognition nor did he try to appeal to be honored with one in his lifetime. Norris insisted he didn't need one, he told IndyStar in the spring.
Then Norris said he wanted people to "look back and say, 'Hey, he was there when it counted. I know I can count on him.'"
Pastor Louis Norris, his brother, told IndyStar recently that what Fred did was heroic, and God watched it happen.
"Even though he didn't get recognized by man, God seen it," Louis said. "And when God recognizes and sees things, he rewards you."
'Came out on the good end'
Styles and Norris met at boot camp before reaching the intense days of gunfire in Vietnam. They were 17-year-old kids in a war, and they never forgot what they saw and did.
Styles and Norris met at boot camp before reaching the intense days of gunfire in Vietnam. They were 17-year-old kids in a war, and they never forgot what they saw and did.
They came home and went on with their lives. They eventually reconnected after a reunion of their battalion.
After that, they never stopped talking. Norris was more than his friend, Styles said. He was his brother.
“The only people we could talk to about the war was us,” Styles said.
They confided in each other and shared stories of their time overseas, Styles said. There were often tears and many laughs. Norris loved telling a good joke, he said.
Derrick McAtee heard many of those stories when Norris sat down for a haircut. McAtee became his go-to barber in 2014. They quickly became closer as Norris opened up and described what he had done.
"He deserved everything that he didn't get," McAtee said.
When Norris’ health was impacted, that trust grew. Norris' feet were ruined by Agent Orange in Vietnam, resulting in partial amputation. McAtee would come to Norris' home to cut his hair because he couldn't make it down the steps.
As a father figure, McAtee said Norris also gave sage advice from a life well-lived.
Norris faced more demons than many could ever endure: a complicated, abusive relationship with his father, overcoming a stutter, surviving a bloody war and failing health. Norris spent much of his life moving from battlefield to battlefield.
“He had been through a lot of stuff but he always came out on the good end,” McAtee said.
In the years after the war, Norris became a husband to Paula and a father of two children, Alfreda and Frederick, Jr. His brother was conscientious and loved his family, Louis said.
They spent hours on the phone together. Norris would go through a rotation of people, but Louis always had the early morning slot as early as 5 a.m., when his brother would wake him up. He will miss those calls.
"He would tell you jokes and try to make you laugh," Louis said. "He would say some things that would make you cry, too."
Never forget
So the story goes, Norris was a man who never got his due. Those who knew him say he left his mark regardless. And he will be remembered as more than a hero.
He didn’t retreat. He pushed ahead. He was a genuine man. All things his comrades, friends and family won't forget, Styles said.
"He’s leaving a big whole in his family, a big vacant spot and it can’t be filled,” Styles said.
There’s a small but mighty group of veterans who know what kind of man Fred was. And they’ll remember him along with his family even if no one else does, Styles said.
“People tend to forget what’s not right here in front of them,” Styles said.
That loyalty is ingrained in the brotherhood they shared and doesn't end with death.
In the second letter from Paul to Timothy in the Bible, Paul speaks of the long path riddled with hardships one takes to secure eternal life. That path is not unlike his brother's life, Louis said.
"To his young minister friend, Timothy, (Paul) said, I've fought a good fight," Louis said. "I finished my course. I've kept the faith."
IndyStar photojournalist Mykal McEldowney contributed to this report.
Rachel Fradette is a general assignment reporter at IndyStar. Contact her at rfradette@indystar.com or follow her on Twitter at @Rachel_Fradette.
This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: ‘He was our hero’: Vietnam War Combat Veteran Fred Norris dies
