As a flight maintenance officer for the Army, Barney Newkirk flew countless missions in Vietnam, delivering food and ammunition.
But one day in 1965, he helped bring Bob Hope to a performance.
The shows worked magic, Newkirk said.
"He'd come for an hour, hour and a half. He would say something funny and they would laugh and then they would cry," said Newkirk, now 61 and living in St. Petersburg. "These were grown men going to pieces."
To veterans and other fans in the Tampa Bay area, Hope's death Sunday reminded them of the laughter he gave to generations of soldiers. Some saw him perform in person in far off lands, where he served as a poignant, if often hilarious, reminder of home. Others watched him on television.
He had a profound effect on the morale of troops, said 63-year-old Kenneth A. Sullivan, of Seminole, who goes by the name "Smokey."
"He was an asset to the military, with the humor and fun he brought to the troops in bad times. He was a soldier among soldiers," said Sullivan, working a volunteer shift Monday at the VFW on 62nd Street in Kenneth City.
"To me, it's hard to explain morale when you're in combat but you're on a low," Sullivan said."You see your friends get killed, you see innocent women and children get killed."
Bill Pickett, 70, of Crystal River saw Hope perform in Vietnam, Thailand and the Dominican Republic. Pickett said the performer's impact was immediate.
"It seemed for weeks or a month afterward, guys would double their duties, just put out that much harder," he said. "Our spirits were raised. All I can say is, "God bless him.' "
What made Hope different from other performers, other than his sheer dedication to bringing joy to the troops?
"He had a way of captivating his audience," said Leon Scott, 73, of St. Petersburg, who saw Hope perform about 30 miles west of Saigon. "He knew how to convey a personality."
Most comedians today lack Hope's clean sincerity, Scott said.
"I can't think of a comedian coming up today without a filthy mouth that's any good."
Jack Espinosa, 72, worked as a young standup comedian in night clubs and strip clubs in the United States, South America and Cuba. He said Bob Hope was never far from his mind.
"I patterned my style, like so many other comics, on his delivery," said Espinosa, who now lives in Tampa. "I even stole some of his jokes."
One meeting was all it took for Marion Mann to form a lasting memory. Hope visited the wounded Vietnam veterans at the San Francisco hospital where she worked as a nurse.
Now 82 and living in St. Petersburg, Mann said the soldiers were so excited they signed a huge scroll for Hope.
For about an hour that day, Mann led Hope around her ward, introducing him to the soldiers, one by one.
"He performed little ditties, talked to them," Mann recalled Monday. "I loved him. He was very friendly and very funny."
From the 1940s to the 1970s, Hope appeared at several charitable events in the Tampa Bay area.
Eloise Harrington, 56, of St. Petersburg met Hope in the 1970s during an event at Busch Gardens in Tampa. She sneaked past security guards and up to a balcony where he was sitting.
He smiled at her, extended his arms and started singing an Irving Berlin tune: A pretty girl is like a melody...
"His eyes were so blue, they were shining," recalled Harrington, who cried when she heard the news Monday. "There were important people around him. Who was I? (But) he took the time out. He made me feel good."
- Times researcher Mary Mellstrom contributed to this report.
