Through the window of Major General John C. Raaen’s primo corner suite in The Mayflower at Winter Park’s assisted-
living facility, you can see an American flag flying on the verdant property.
That’s as it should be, since few individuals have done more—or have risked more—to protect what that red, white and blue banner stands for than the 103-year-old soldier (and scholar) who graduated from West Point and later earned a master’s degree in nuclear physics from Johns Hopkins University.
Yes, you read correctly. Raaen (pronounced “ron”)—who retired in 1979—is 103 years old. So he could certainly be excused for missing ceremonies earlier this summer in Washington, D.C., when a proud pair of old soldiers—representing their dwindling number of comrades-in-arms—were presented with the Congressional Gold Medal to honor the U.S. Army Rangers who served in World War II.
Raaen, though, is not only among the five living Army Rangers who fought in the global conflagration between the Allies and the Axis powers. He’s also believed to be the last surviving Army Ranger who stormed the hellscape of Omaha Beach on D-Day.
A 22-year-old captain at the time, Raaen led the 5th Ranger Infantry Battalion across the beach, which was under heavy fire, then over the bluffs and inland across Normandy and into Brittany, where he was injured. His D-Day command earned a Silver Star for valor—the first of nearly 20 decorations he would accumulate through a storied career that extended through Korea and Vietnam.
The Fort Benning, Georgia, native did, as you’ve probably read by now, finally receive his medal in September—thanks in part to an organization called Descents of World War II Rangers—during ceremonies at The Mayflower. The decoration was presented by former U.S. Senator and recently retired NASA Administrator Bill Nelson.
I met Raaen (from here forward, out of respect, I’ll refer to him as “the General”) during the weeks leading up to the event at The Mayflower. I was honored, of course, because of what he had done, but also inspired by his liveliness and good humor.
Although he’s in a wheelchair, it’s not as much due to advanced age as it is to an unusual adverse reaction to a normally benign and common medication. He appears otherwise at least 20 years younger than the calendar would indicate.
Naturally, the General needed little encouragement to share vivid stories about World War II. (Many historians and documentarians, not surprisingly, have called upon him as a resource for their works.) And he analyzed the current state of the world from a perspective that virtually no one else can match.
Could there ever be another world war? “We’re already in it,” says the General, citing, among other threats, conflicts in the Middle East, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and China’s yet-to-be-realized designs on Taiwan. His greatest concern, however, is the possibility that a rogue nation might develop and deploy a nuclear weapon.
I was curious why the General—whose education, executive skills and well-honed leadership ability could have led to a lucrative career in the private sector—chose to spend 36 years in the military, especially after having survived D-Day. What more could the country reasonably expect of him?
“Well, I was an Army brat,” he replies, adding that he was the only child of an officer who was for a time stationed at West Point. “I was 7 or 8 years old and saw all that pageantry and was around such wonderful role models. I made up my mind early that I wanted to be a cadet.”
Also, he noticed at the time, the families of his non-military friends were experiencing severe personal hardships due to the Great Depression. “But I had a wonderful life,” he recalls. “We never hurt for anything. All I had to do was sign a chit and go to the movies. I came to realize that in the military we had an ‘elite status’ in that regard.”
And the General tells an irony-laden tale about how he came to be at The Mayflower. After retirement, he and his late wife, Emily, moved to Apopka. Naturally, this much-decorated leader of men was persuaded to marshal the forces for the small town’s annual Sertoma Club Christmas Parade.
In that seemingly non-hazardous capacity, the legendary warrior who had survived the brutal assault on Omaha Beach was seriously injured when he was struck by the over-wide tire of a truck hauling parade supplies and dragged 50 feet.
Emily then took command: “My wife said, ‘Well, now you can’t mow the lawn, you can’t clean the gutters and you can’t replace the screens. It’s time we moved into a retirement community—and I know just the place.’”
Although the General says he has never been particularly interested in accumulating accolades, this is the Congressional Medal of Honor for goodness sake, the highest civilian honor presented by the legislative body. The first recipient was George Washington; there have been fewer than 200 presented since 1776.
One of those medals now belongs to a Winter Parker. That’s why the flying of the flag isn’t the only reason that we should all snap a salute the next time we drive by The Mayflower.