Pilot’s death in Libya raid
hits close to home:
The Fernando Luis Ribas Story
We were born on the same street in La Playita neighborhood of Utuado, a small town in the mountains of Puerto Rico. Our families were very close and we attended the same schools. He was two years younger than me.
The late Capt. Fernando Luis Ribas-Dominicci and I grew up together in the 1950’s and 60’s. I was a classmate of one of his order brothers, Salvador, who later became an attorney. Fernán, or Awiso as we used to call him, studied with two of my cousins.
His father, Don Pepe, and my father used to go fishing together in the Caonillas and Dos Bocas lakes in our home town. His mother, Doña Teresa, and mine have shared many years of friendship.
Fernando and I were together at those ages when friendships are more sincere, honest and lasting – childhood and adolescence. Even though life separated us, death cannot break the bonds of that friendship.
This is why Fernando’s death nearly a month ago causes me such pain. I have lost a childhood friend, someone from my home town, a Puerto Rican and American.
Fernando was proud of Utuado, of Puerto Rico, the United States and the U.S. Air Force.
When he was a teenager, Fernando dreamed of becoming a pilot, of joining the Air Force and of someday flying the most sophisticated fighter jets. On finishing high school, he entered the University of Puerto Rico, where he joined the ROTC and graduated as an engineer.
With this background, Fernando signed up with the Air Force to make his childhood dreams come true. He didn’t join out of economic necessity or because he was drafted. He joined the Air Force because that’s what he wanted most out of life. It was his dream. It was simply what he liked best.
On the day she was officially notified of the death of her son, Doña Teresa told me: “That was his only dream – to serve his country. That was his dream. For him the F-111 was like a toy under the Christmas tree. He adored that plane and he lived just to be able to serve in it. He fulfilled his duty. We feel proud of him.”
A mutual friend from Utuado recalled that Awiso enthusiastically told him every detail about the F-111. In the words of Fernando, he was personally responsible for cleaning, repairing and maintaining the plane assigned to him. It is precisely this plane, which he labored over for so many hours, that became his tomb in the Mediterranean Sea.
I am convinced that Fernando enjoyed every single minute he spent flying from Lakenheath, England to Libya. To fly an F-111 on such an important mission was his dream come true.
Sometimes I think, even when he sensed his aircraft was failing him, Fernando would have given his last breath to save his fighter bomber and to repair the damage. The Pentagon says there are no indications that Ribas and his partner, Capt. Paul Lorence, used the ejector seats that could have saved their lives. Maybe Fernando didn’t do so because he was convinced he could save his plane.
For Utuado, that little town in the central mountains of Puerto Rico, the loss of one of its own is a tragedy. That little boy who helped his parents in the furniture shop, which was the mainstay of the Ribas family for many years, is gone forever. The youngster who triumphed on the basketball courts of San Miguel High School, the happy child who traveled the streets of out town, has gone away.
In 1952 another son of Utuado serving in the Korean War sacrificed his life by falling on a grenade to save his brothers-in-arms. That hero from Utuado was Fernando Luis Garcia-Ledesma. He was the first Puerto Rican to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor. Today, a second son of Utuado, another Fernando Luis, has become a hero.
I hope and expect that all of Puerto Rico’s leaders – the governor, the legislature, the mayor of Utuado – as well as the American Legion, will combine their efforts to honor this soldier who died in action in the war against international terrorism. The U.S. government and the Air Force should join to honor this small-town hero.
Fernando is a symbol of the Puerto Rican tradition of service in the U.S. armed forces.
His four-year-old son, who bears his name, can hold his head high. His father lived and died reaching above and beyond the call of duty for his homeland.
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This article was written for the “Hispanic Link News Service” in May 1986, and was published in several newspapers across the United States.