I’ve known Steve since the 4th grade, we both went to Holy Ghost school
in Albuquerque. A few comments from my memory:
Steve was a bit more scrawny than I was in the 4th. We enjoyed each other’s
Company, both in the classroom - acting up, & on the playground. While in the 5th
grade, the school bully & his larger friend made the rounds every afternoon
at recess. They made our fun time miserable. While playing tackle football in
the dirt one day, I noticed Steve squared off against the lead bully, Benny Martinez.
Steve had enough, & stood up for himself. He did not back down from these two
bullies, who were older in 6th grade. After a short fisticuffs, both bullies humbly
retreated, & none of us ever again had issues with them. Very cool, Garcia!!!
After many years, we met up while attending UNM. I had noticed Steve, in the
student union building, in is NROTC uniform, playing pool. We regenerated our
friendship quickly. Among other memories, he soon after bought a large Suzuki
street motorcycle. Wasn’t meant to do anything else, but ride on paved roads.
However, Steve also used it as a giant dirt bike, frequenting the New Mexico desert
landscapes at street speeds. Always thought that to be very odd, but there I would be,
on the back of it with him rocketing thru the desert.
Two years later, I transferred down to NMSU in Las Cruces. We continued to get
together for short hunting outings & reminiscing. While finishing up senior year, during
a phone conversation, we realized that we had both recently taken an oath and were
going into the USMC. Surprisingly, too, we were going to The Basic School, a 6 month
high level school in Quantico VA, not only at the same time, but because our last names
started with letters that were alphabetically close, we would be in the same platoon, in a
company of 240 students. How coincidental was that! Within a month of arrival in Quantico, Steve bought a new Ford Ranger. He wanted to go blasting through the forest in it, so we loaded some fishing rods and proceeded to Breckenridge Reservoir. Along the way, after a heavy rain season, we confronted a moderate sized stream. We stopped,
got out & surveyed the situation. Remember, this was 1976. No cell phones & we’re out
in the boonies. Way out. It was only a 2WD truck, & because it was a Ranger, was low to the ground. The energetic & always optimistic Garcia elected to make the call. And, as you may imagine, we didn’t make it across. Freezing water was pouring into the cab
and we abandoned the little truck. It took us hours to hike out, find a pay phone, & get a
wrecker out to our remote location. He got his truck back four weeks later, and never
would discuss the damage/costs, but he was ready to go, again. This time, the water level
was lower and we pre-staged the stream with as many large rocks as we could toss in front of our crossing area. Success the 2nd time.
Another ingrained memory was on a long war exercise, where we were operational 24 hrs/day. On the 3rd night, Steve had the “watch” duty. It was miserably cold and pouring rain. Steve’s job was to make the rounds, in the dark, and be the first alert should our position be attacked. I was in a shallow, self-dug, foxhole, hating life at that particular time. In the dark, wet, miserable conditions, Steve “stumbled” on my position, jumped in the one-man hole with me, & over us went two ponchos to help keep the rain off. We quickly lit up a “burn tab”, into some sticks and got a fire going in-between us. We quickly had our canteen cups brewing some warm, C-ration, coffee. For a short time, in a very uncomfortable place, our friendship brought smiles and quiet laughter underneath the ponchos. That coffee, and the smiles in the firelight, was the best.
Immediately after our time in Quantico, Steve was transferred to another school in Athens, Georgia. He wanted to take his truck, and asked me to keep, then deliver, his Datsun B-210 station wagon he made the trip from Albuquerque to Quantico in. This, like his Suzuki motorcycle, was also an “all-terrain” vehicle, which was stuck often on some of our activities in Columbus, Las Cruces, and of course in Albuquerque. It was a great little car, and I did deliver it 5 months later to him on my way to Pensacola Florida. Throughout many years, we visited in southern California, Utah, and of course in Montana. Here’s where I’ll stop, because there are many other stories from other friends pertaining to Steve’s time in Montana.
In concluding, Steve was a good friend. Enjoyed nature to its fullest. He actually taught me how to run long distance, as I was a horrible runner. His coaching and mentoring helped prepare me for long runs as a Marine. Steve’s memory was not the best, never was. Sometimes his memory lapses were hilarious, sometimes friends would intervene to keep him on track. He was always gracious, comical, and fine spirited. His enthusiasm for life was contagious. I hope, too, that his enthusiasm was instilled in his three daughters, who he was very proud of. Never a conversation we had, that he did not brag on his three girls. I miss him, and will always have good memories of our 50-year friendship.