Since the day Mr. Beels shuffled into our fourth-grade class in 1967 to tell us that Lance Cpl. Michael P. Finley had died in the Vietnam War, I have stood in awe of soldiers.

And I have wondered how this young man from our small town of Big Rock had the mettle and gallantry to become one of the most decorated soldiers of the Vietnam war.

[ Read Part I about the impact of Michael Finley's death in Vietnam on a Kane County community - and the famous bunsteads recipe! ]

With the help of his sister, Karen, and his best friend George Hubert, (who also fought in Vietnam), I now have a pretty good idea how that happened.

I drove to George’s home in Hinckley on a snowy afternoon in December to interview him. He and his wife Holly warmly welcomed me.

Karen lives in London; she and I connected through email. She was 7 when Mike died. His brother Jeff was 15 and John, 13.

As it turns out, Mike was a popular kid at Big Rock Elementary, well-liked by his classmates, the teachers, the lunch ladies (he loved Mrs. Scott’s bunsteads), and our principal, Mr. Beels.

And the school crossing guard liked Mike, the townspeople, the old folks, the church pastor, parents of his friends; he had a way with children and animals.

Mike was confirmed in the Big Rock Congregational Church (we locals call it The Congo) in 8th grade, but for Mike it wasn’t perfunctory; he knew God.

In high school, he broke the track record for the long jump and shot put. He went down to the basement after dinner to lift weights until he could bench press twice his weight.

And, George said, laughing as we sat at his kitchen table, Mike took Protein of the Sea tablets he ordered through the mail to help build muscle.

Basketball. Same. He practiced until he could cleverly maneuver the ball, change directions quickly, sink long shots. A team player, always.

Mike was inducted into the National Honor Society, and the math department created a calculus class just for him, George and one other student.

But George told me what he admired most about Mike was how much his three younger siblings meant to him, how seriously he took his role as big brother.

Like happy ducklings, Karen wrote, she and her brothers would follow him anywhere because he was solid, protective, and could make them laugh like no one else.

Mike graduated in 1964 as Hinckley-Big Rock’s class salutatorian and went on to the University of Illinois to major in engineering.

Months later, after the U.S. sent its first combat soldiers to Vietnam, Mike dropped out of college, worked a bit, joined the Marines, and left for the war.

George believes that was always Mike’s plan, that he saw going to war as an honor, and, since his father was a World War II Marine, a fulfillment of family history.

On May 8, 1967, Mike was in the thick of an intense firefight with a much larger North Vietnamese Army force in the jungle of Con Thien, Quang Tri Province. He was wounded while firing two rounds from his M-79 grenade launcher, destroying an unrelenting enemy machine gun and its crew, thereby saving the lives of many U.S. soldiers.

But Mike lost his own life after leaving cover yet again to aid a wounded comrade laying in the open and to reach his seriously injured squad leader.

And for his actions, on his heroic last day, Lance Corporal Michael P. Finley was awarded the Navy Cross, the second-highest military honor.

The Navy Cross is for heroism of the highest order, in the presence of great danger and personal risk; the soldier must stand out from others of equal rank.

And it is reserved for the few: About a half-million U.S. Marines fought in the Vietnam War. The Navy Cross has been awarded to less than 400.

Christmas lights glowed in farmhouses on my drive home from George and Holly’s house. Karen said Mike loved the ambrosia their mother used to make for holidays; she sent me a picture of her handwritten recipe card.

I thought ambrosia was the mythical nectar of the gods. But, no, we mortals eat it too in the earthly form of a dessert with whipped cream and pineapple.

When I was in high school, I worked in The Little Store my mother owned in Big Rock. I remember Mrs. Finley coming in, always so lovely.

I can imagine her serving this dessert in fancy goblets to her husband and brood of four, with Mike, filled with promise, in the center of it all.

As his family held close the night before his morning service, an Aurora Borealis, in bright emerald green, suddenly orchestrated the clear dark sky.

Mr. Finley was laid to rest next to his magnificent son in Welsh Cemetery in Big Rock in 2013. Mrs. Finley is well cared for today by her three children.

Mike gave a sermon in high school to the members of The Congo about a shepherd who leaves behind his flock of ninety-nine in search of one precious lamb.

Mrs. Finley has her son’s Bible. Mike took it with him to Vietnam, and it made its way home.

Mrs. Finley’s Ambrosia (Heavenly Rice)

Serves 6-8

1 cup rice, cooked and chilled

1/3 cup sugar

20oz can crushed pineapples, drained

1-1/2 cups mini marshmallows

3/4 cup heavy cream

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Beat the heavy cream with the vanilla until fluffy. Mix the other ingredients, then gently fold in the whipped cream. Chill for a few hours or overnight before serving.

• Do you have a special recipe with a story to tell? I would love to write about it. Email me at Janetlagerloef@gmail.com.