Marines honor veteran's dying wish to hug a tank

An ailing Kenneth White had a final, dying wish: He wanted to hug a tank.

The nearly 80-year-old former tanker, suffering from stage five kidney disease among myriad other health issues, spent 17 years in the Corps with the 4th Tank Battalion. During that time, he served on three different types of tanks — Shermans, Pershings and M48 Pattons — and never lost his love of armor.

So when tankers with the 1st Tank Battalion aboard Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center Twentynine Palms, California, heard of his last request, they were more than happy to oblige. Getting a request to hug a tank is unusual, but White's sentiments are not, said Sgt. William Milline, a tank crewman who was among the Marines to greet the elderly man and his wife, Carol White.

"From even the schoolhouse to your last day with the tank, it feels as though that's a part of you now," he said, describing what tankers call "The Beast." "It becomes your house, it becomes your weapon; something to ride on, something you're going to have that bond with for the rest of your life."

Despite needing a walker and being weighed down by an oxygen tank, White picked up steam as he approached the first M1A1 Abrams, said Gunnery Sgt. Paul Acevedo, who led the tour. It wasn't long before he was swapping stories with his present-day peers.

"One tanker to the next, the stories really don't change ­­— just the times, the era," Acevedo said.

The defining moment came at the tail end of the visit. Before escorting White back to his vehicle, Acevedo led him to a Sherman on display outside of 1st Tank's headquarters. For a moment, he stood there in silence with the tank and "you could see all the memories coming back," Acevedo recalled.

White could not comment for this story due to reasons owing to his failing health and medical regimen, but he reportedly told the assembled Marines he could die happy.

"All my life, when I was a little boy growing up, I wanted to be a tanker," White said in a Corps news release documenting the trip. "I used to watch the tanks at Camp Elliott, California. I can't believe they did all this for me. I can die in peace now, because I got to hug a tank."

Commune likely is a more apt word for the experience than hug, but Acevedo knows the feeling well. After spending three years as a recruiter, 1st Battalion's master gunner was itching to be back on The Beast. He recognized White's reaction.

"It's that moment to be around the vehicle, just to lay your hand on it, that cold steel right in front of you, knowing that it's alive somehow — that's what it was," Acevedo said.

White left soon after — with a tank battalion T-shirt as a souvenir — bound for home in Las Vegas and more dialysis. But for a few minutes, he seemed 30 or 40 years younger, Milline said.