On Wings and Waves, His Life's Path Led to PA. by On-Line Publishers, Inc.

Cover Story

On Wings and Waves, His Life’s Path Led to Pa. By Jason Tabor As he jumped from the plane and floated through the air, wind blasting his face and brown-and-green squares of New Jersey farmland rushing up to meet him, Stephen DeBock thought, “Wow, I’m finally flying like Superman!” DeBock is a natural storyteller, and he has quite a long list of stories to tell. Fifteen years into his retirement from teaching, DeBock stays busy as ever as a published author — writing fantasy, horror, and zombie literature. As a young man, he achieved his dream of flying like his boyhood hero after taking up the hobby of sport parachuting, and this same drive guided him through an exciting and unconventional path in life before he and his wife, Joy, settled in Central Pennsylvania in 2006. “I couldn’t have known it at the time, but all roads eventually led me back to Hershey, Pa.,” laughs DeBock, a New Jersey native. At 76, DeBock’s life stories weave a complicated tapestry of a well-lived life governed by an attitude of “have a goal, work hard, pursue it, and make it happen!” Born outside of Newark, New Jersey, DeBock grew up with a passion for fishing and swimming; studied art, literature, and writing; and had a young man’s desire for adventure, which led him to enlisting in the Marine Corps after his high school graduation. “I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up, but after meeting with the Marine recruiter, I thought that would be an avenue where I would mature and figure it out,” he says. After completing boot camp at Parris Island, DeBock was selected to serve in the President’s Honor Guard, a prestigious Marine drill group where he would march in parades and ceremonial occasions in Washington, D.C., as well as military funerals at Arlington Cemetery. His unit also provided security for President Eisenhower at Camp David, and DeBock recounts the time when he was chosen to serve as a lifeguard for then-Vice President Nixon’s daughters, who wished to use the pool while on vacation. “They were 12 and 14 at the time,” he says. “Very pleasant kids.” DeBock remained in Washington long enough to march in President Kennedy’s inaugural parade and to serve as sentry during one of his Camp David visits. His Washington tour over, he transferred to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, and participated in the Cuban blockade in 1962. He was released from active duty in 1963 and returned to his parents’ home in Toms River, New Jersey. “I didn’t realize it at the time, of course, but had I reenlisted, I probably would have ended up in Vietnam two years later,” he says. During his time at Camp Lejeune, DeBock would drive to Washington on the weekends, and one Saturday he went on a blind date with a young lady named Joy, whom he would marry in 1964. They took a winding road trip on their honeymoon,

DeBock at Camp Lejeune in 1963, shortly before his release from active duty.

Following his summer vacation in Newport, 1960, President Eisenhower authorized this coin to be struck for each of the Marines who formed his security detail (including then-Pfc. DeBock).

DeBock has co-authored a trilogy of zombie novels with awardwinning horror writer Ralph W. Bieber.

stopping in Hershey to tour the chocolate factory before reaching their destination of Niagara Falls. This long trip with many unexpected stops along the way would prove to be an overarching theme for their life together. Before the ’60s came to a close, the couple had two children, and DeBock was enrolled at Trenton State College (now College of New Jersey), studying elementary education while working days as a lab technician at a chemical corporation. DeBock spent 33 years teaching fifth- to eighth-grade English, reading, and social studies. During this time, he completed a master’s degree in media studies and: taught night classes at a local community college; opened a video rental store with Joy; started a wedding video business; dabbled in sport parachuting; and, after earning his pilot’s license, he became a 20-year member of the Jersey Aero Club. DeBock recounts flying friends and family into the small airport adjoining Hersheypark to spend the day in Chocolatetown, as well as bringing groups of schoolchildren to the park on field trips during his teaching years. Then there was the time he sold most of his earthly belongings to move onto a 42-foot trawler yacht with Joy. “The kids were out of the house by this time, and we’d done a lot of research and just decided to try the live-aboard life,” he says. Life on the yacht, which they named Homeroom, included summer cruises up and down the East Coast with friends and family. After three years as live-aboards, he and Joy sold the boat and designed and built a home on riverfront property in Toms River. DeBock retired from teaching in 2003, and not surprisingly, has stayed consistently busy ever since. In 2006, he and Joy sold their New Jersey home and moved to Hershey to be closer to a new grandchild, and “after 33 years of reading and grading students’ stories, I figured it was time for me to start writing in earnest as well.” A lifelong horror fan, DeBock says his writing career began as a whim. “I just wanted to see if I could do it. And then my short story about werewolves turned into a novel, and that turned into the Pentacle Pendant trilogy, blending horror and historical fiction that stretches back to the time of King James,” he says. This trilogy was followed by fantasy and adventure novels, and his most recent work is a trilogy of zombie novels co-authored with award-winning horror writer Ralph W. Bieber. DeBock has also authored a media education plan published by the state of New Jersey and contributed to essays appearing in Time magazine and on ABC World News Tonight. He and Bieber will appear at the Scares that Care Charity Weekend in Williamsburg, Virginia, the first weekend in August, to display and sell their work.

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In his limited free time, DeBock likes to stay active at the gym and remains in contact with more than 300 of his former students on social media. “I feel wealthy because of the friendships I’ve made throughout my life, especially the relationships forged with former students — it sets my heart aglow,” he says. “My true passion was always the kids.” DeBock and his wife are looking forward to celebrating their upcoming 54th wedding anniversary with a Viking ocean cruise through Scandinavian countries in Europe, having already crossed the U.S. by car in 2011. “Joy’s encouragement on these adventures, and her participation in many, inspired me in too many ways to count. Our children and three grandchildren are continuing sources of pride and inspiration as well,” he says. “The world has so much to offer, and we’ve seen so many families rooted to one job, one town, one address for most of their lives,” DeBock says. “Roots are important, but then again, so are wings.” To read DeBock’s story on how he inspired an aviation career or two, see the article below, “The Ripple Effect: A Pilot, a Teacher, and a Teen.”

On the cover, clockwise from left: During his teaching years, DeBock flew friends and family from New Jersey into the small airport adjoining Hersheypark. The Homeroom, the 42-year trawler yacht on which the DeBocks lived for three years. President Eisenhower lays a wreath at tomb of World War I Gen. John “Black Jack” Pershing, September 1960. DeBock is among the Marines in the second row. Photo credit: United Press International

DeBock and his granddaughter, Adrienne, standing in the shadow of a Cessna Skyhawk’s wing following her first light airplane ride.

The Ripple Effect: A Pilot, a Teacher, and a Teen By Stephen M. DeBock

Dale graduated the academy and became a fighter pilot. We stayed in My friend Bill passed away touch, and one day he told some years ago, and following me he’d been approved his interment I wrote two to fly the F-117 stealth letters. One was to his wife, fighter. No sooner had he expressing gratitude for his checked out in the craft having introduced me to the than Gulf War I broke world of private flying, as well out, and he was off to as his encouragement while I do battle, always in the earned my own pilot’s license. zero dark thirty hours, The other was to a younger returning to base before friend named Dale Zelko, first light. to inform him that although Following the war’s he’d never had the pleasure of Dale Zelko, seen here in a An F-117 Nighthawk stealth fighter jet, conclusion, I received a meeting Bill, had it not been U.S. Air Force portrait, wasn’t rarely seen by civilians. phone call from Dale. for his earlier influence on me, the only one of DeBock’s “Would you like to vhe — Dale — might never former students to go on to see some cockpit tapes?” have embarked upon his own become a pilot. he asked. “I’m on leave aviation career. visiting my mom. You’re Here’s how it unfolded: invited to join the family Back in the days before for dinner.” litigation eclipsed baseball The next evening, as I watched the incredible night-vision videos taken from as the national pastime, I used to offer my middle-school students afterschool his cockpit, I noticed Dale fiddling with something in his hand. It looked like sightseeing flights in my flying club’s single-engine aircraft. Once at cruising a piece of broken lanyard with a metal clip at one end. Captain Queeg with the altitude, I’d show the youngster in the right seat the dual controls, explain how ball bearings came to mind, but I pretended not to notice. they work, and invite him or her to try flying the plane. Afterward, he said something I’ve never forgotten: The kids would usually be quick to take hold of the yoke — whereupon the “I love to fly; I love my country; and I love to fly for my country. Now, on one plane would porpoise through the sky as they tried to adapt to the delicacy of the of my sorties, I realized that if it hadn’t been for that flight you took me on way controls. back when, I almost certainly wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing today.” Most quickly gave up, but Dale didn’t. From the start, he held the Cessna I nodded, unsure where this was going. stable and maintained altitude; further, he kept a proper scan forward, to the “So I dedicated my target that night to you, and although I can’t tell you what sides, and up and down. it was, you’ll be pleased to know it’s now a pile of debris.” He held out what he’d Oh, he’s flown before, I thought, maybe with a relative who owns a plane. been holding. “This is the arming clip from that smart bomb. It’s yours.” Dale asked me next what the instruments represented, and he nodded as I explained their functions. Soon he was making precision turns to specific *** headings, at my direction. The kid was good. Oh yeah, he’s done this a lot of times before. By the time Dale presented me with this treasured memento, the attorney for When the hour was up, I landed the plane, refueled it, and returned it to the board of education had long put an end to my student flights. the tie-down area, with Dale studying my every move. I thought he might be He opined that even though the permission slips I’d sent home specified I was comparing me with his pilot relative. Once I’d settled my account for the hour flown, I walked Dale to the parking acting as a private citizen and not as a school employee, the fact that I’d used the school’s ditto machine to print the slips, and that I’d mentioned the flights lot, where his mother was waiting. As we walked, I asked him how many times during school time and on school grounds, made the board liable for any student he’d flown before today. injuries that might occur. “None,” he answered. “This was my first time in a plane.” He was right, of course, and yes, I’d been naïve even to risk driving my I was stunned. After a moment’s thought, I said, “Dale, it’s not my place to tell students to the airport, much less putting them aboard a plane. you what to do with your life. But from what you’ve demonstrated just now, I’d But when I consider the beauty of introducing my kids to the wonders of say you were born to the yoke.” flight — Dale wasn’t the only one who went on to become a pilot — I bless my A modest sort, he gave me a simple thank-you as we greeted his mom and youthful naïveté. made our farewells for the day. As for Dale, his career took him to the Yugoslavian conflict in 1999, where his stealth fighter was blown out of the sky by a ground-fired missile. *** His account of the against-all-odds, literally-in-the-nick-of-time combat search and rescue made for a compelling two-hour debriefing he gave his family, my Time passed, and when Dale was a high school junior, he sent a letter asking wife, and me upon his safe return. if I would consider writing a commendation for him to the Air Force Academy, But that’s a story for another time. something I was proud and honored to do.

Air Force Day is Aug. 1