Jack Beard, 95, holds a World War II photo at his home in Chandler. He is joining 37 other East Texas veterans on a trip to the World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C., May 11-12. Cathy Krafve Photo CHANDLER — He has a garden in his back yard of which to be jealous. Bright green, perfectly aligned rows of newly sprouted vegetables are framed by a profusion of blooming dewberries on trellises along the back.

In spite of the fact he is 95 years old, Jack Beard of Chandler plants his own garden every year.

This is also the year he is doing something special, and he’ll be the oldest person doing it.

Nearly sixty-five years after he returned from the war, Beard is joining a group of 38 other East Texas World War II veterans to travel to Washington, D.C., to visit the World War II Memorial.

On May 11, Beard will be the oldest veteran honored on Brookshire’s Heroes Flight.

“A man called me and told me I was picked and I am the oldest one; that’s what he told me,” Beard, the physically fit, almostcenturion with a quick sense of humor said laughing.

He’s looking forward to “just being with the group and being escorted through the capital by Congressman Louie Gohmert and the changing of the Guard (at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier).”

His wife of 65 years, Zeffi e, saw a story about the trip in a newspaper and one thing led to another.

Zeffie was one of the best parts about returning from war, Beard said. In fact, you could say she picked up a soldier.

He was minutes away from home, traveling back from Europe, and standing on “Hobo corner” in Athens, when Zeffie and her sister in 1945 drove by and saw him.

“If you needed a ride, you would just stand there and folks knew you,” he said. “Back then, everybody picked everybody up.”

Now, when he thinks about that time, he turns serious for a moment, as if in respect for heroes who have died.

“Most of this stuff, I try to forget,” he said somberly, recalling his work as a medic while advancing through Italy.

He made two amphibious landings during his service — on the beaches of Italy in September 1943 and southern France in August 1944, as part of the 36th Division Infantry.

“I didn’t rush a pillbox or shoot a bunch of people,” he said. “I shot a bunch of people but it was with a needle. I was trained to take care of the sick and the wounded.”

He told of bullets zinging past and mortars falling all around as the call “Medic!” echoed throughout the fighting. Whoever was closest treated the suffering as quickly as possible, often with litter bearers bringing the next patient as triage happened almost instantaneously.

“In the war, there wasn’t no camp. There was a Jeep and a trailer and litters, blankets, all the extra equipment.”

They were so far forward in the battle that the red crosses on their helmets became targets.

“That was a good target,” Beard said. “The regular German troops wouldn’t” aim at the medics intentionally, but the SS was mean.”

At one point in the action, trying to cross the Rapido River, they were so poorly positioned they lost around 2,200 men in one day, “either wounded, dead, captured, or swept down the river.”

The medical officer and the chaplain arranged a truce and soon German soldiers were helping retrieve the American dead and wounded.

“We had a truce for about four hours. It made me wonder that if they could stop it for four hours, why couldn’t they stop it forever?”

The son of a “country preacher,” Beard grew up with a deep faith.

“Those fox holes are only big enough for me, but when those shells come in just right, there’d be two or three of us,” he said. ”I don’t believe there was an atheist in the fox holes.”

Zeffie remembers what it was like when he came home, how thankful his family was to have him back, and how dashing he looked. She pulled her husband’s medals off a wall from where they hang in a display case.

“I’ll tell you something about those medals, though,” he said. “One of them represents seven major campaigns.”

Beard holds a Purple Heart, company and rank insignias, and memorial medallions.