By Dr. Kevin Wallace
Van of Valor
NORTH PORT, Fla. – As our Van of Valor rolled across the Michigan border, the odometer clicking toward another thousand miles in our 27,000-mile mission, the air felt different.
It carried the chill of the Great Lakes and the warm scent of pine — a breath of resilience.
Michigan isn’t just a state of lakes and industry; it is a landscape of sacrifice, a “Mitten” stitched together by stories of pain and perseverance.
From the Purple Heart Trail markers on I-69 to the quiet gymnasiums of South Haven, we aren’t just looking for stories — we are documenting the living, beating “Spirit of the Purple Heart” before it fades into the silence of history.
Our first stop brought us into the orbit of James C. “Doc” McCloughan.
The air in the South Haven high school hallway hummed with a quiet authority.
A living Medal of Honor recipient and two-time Purple Heart veteran, “Doc” spent forty years here, not just teaching history, but embodying its most profound lessons.
His philosophy on service, forged in the bloody hills of Vietnam, remains as sharp as his combat instincts.
Reflecting on his role as a medic, McCloughan shared his core motivation with a clarity that silenced the room: “I knew that I was the one that was trained to take care of them… I was going to do whatever I could to make sure they got home.”
But it was in the classroom, he explained, that this covenant found a new battlefield.
“A kid comes to school with wounds you can’t see,” he told us, his gaze steady. “You stop the bleeding of doubt, you apply pressure to loneliness, you triage the heart.”
Anthropologist Lauren Wallace, Van of Valor cofounder, observed our interview, and later noted, “There is a unique cultural bridge here. McCloughan transitioned from saving lives on a battlefield to shaping them in a classroom.”
“His Purple Hearts are not just badges of injury; they are the source of his moral authority, a catalyst for community leadership that whispers to a struggling student, ‘I have borne worse, and I believe in you,’” she said.
Heading north toward Flushing, we traded the classroom’s stillness for the open road, keeping a sharp eye on the shoulder for Michael “Flagman” Bowen.
A Vietnam veteran and Purple Heart recipient, Bowen has run over 78,000 miles — the equivalent of three times around the Earth — carrying the POW/MIA flag.
His mission is a physical manifesto, a pounding rhythm of remembrance against the asphalt.
We never found him, but envisioned finding him at dawn, a silhouette against a peach-colored sky, the black and white flag snapping in his wake like a persistent memory.
Based on his online quotes and prior interviews, he would likely have said:
“I run for those who can’t,” a quote he has said dozens of times.
Finally, we reached Holland, the home of the legendary Lt. Col. Matt Urban.
Though “The Ghost” passed away in 1995, his presence is a palpable force at the Matt Urban Sports Complex, where the shouts of children playing now echo where once orders were barked.
With seven Purple Hearts earned from North Africa to Normandy, Urban was a testament to stubborn, defiant life. We knew we had to visit his stomping grounds.
He was once asked how he survived so many wounds. He simply credited his men and his mission, stating in his memoir that he had a “singular, driving duty to protect my fellow soldiers.”
But standing there, Lauren saw a deeper lineage. “Look at the arc,” she said, as the sunset painted the complex in gold. “Urban’s ghost inspires competition and camaraderie here in Holland. Doc McCloughan’s wounds became wisdom in South Haven. Bowen’s injury fuels an endless run in Flushing.”
“Michigan reminds us that the Purple Heart isn’t just about the blood shed — it’s about the heartbeat that continues,” continued Wallace. “It’s the rhythm of a teacher’s lesson, the footfall of a runner’s promise, and the cheer of a child on a field named for a hero. The heart, though wounded, beats on. And in its pulse, we find our duty to remember.”
Our van pulled away from Holland, its archives richer, its purpose heavier.
Michigan has shown us that the Purple Heart Legacy is not a static monument, but a living network — a heartbeat transmitted across the mitten, from one hero to the next, and now, through our mission, to a nation that must never forget to listen.
To contact the Van of Valor, email Manteo.Creative.SPOT@gmail.com, and to support the mission or read more, visit www.HelpVoV.com.
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