Former Army LTC is the man with the plan

By R. Kurt Osenlund, Bucks Local News


When talking to former Army lieutenant colonel (LTC) Ray O'Brien, it doesn't take long to realize he's a very astute and organized individual, from the way he presents himself to his choice of words and relevant anecdotes. It's those qualities that have made O'Brien so proficient in logistics, an area in which he's excelled in both his military and civilian careers. Whether managing engineer equipment in Germany, arranging the railroad transportation of Sunoco products, or literally writing the book on how to run a successful Eucharistic Congress, this detail-oriented Richboro resident has long been the man with the plan.

Born in Philadelphia in 1948 to parents Anne and Raymond, O'Brien grew up in the Olney area of the Northeast with his brother, Martin (who now teaches at a school for the deaf in Frederick, Md.). O'Brien graduated from Cardinal Dougherty High School in 1966, and then went on to study geology and join the ROTC at La Salle University. O'Brien says his unique, scientific major enabled him to select the Army Corps of Engineers as a career path, without actually being an engineer. He says he avoided the “grunt” combat branches of infantry, artillery and armor in favor a branch where he could foster his affinity for building things.

Having completed the ROTC program, O'Brien was commissioned – or “knighted,” as he says – into the Army as a second lieutenant in 1970. He first headed out for intensive training at Fort Belvoir, Va., the official post for budding Army engineers. In 1971, he bought his first car and married Judy, who accompanied him to Germany that same year, and who is still by his side today.

“They say there are two things you don't take with you to Germany because they have too many of them: wives and Volkswagens,” O'Brien says of the couple's unconventional honeymoon. “I brought both.”

O'Brien and his wife shacked up in a small apartment in a village neighboring Zweibrucken, a town near the French border where O'Brien worked in the logistics headquarters during the Cold War.

“Being in the Engineer Corps, you'd think I'd have been out in the field, training for a Soviet attack (which, thank God, never came),” O'Brien says. “But, no, they gave me a job in logistics, managing Army engineering equipment like bulldozers, backhoes and dump trucks.”

He continues, “The word 'logistics' comes from the Greek word 'logistikos,' which means 'skilled in counting.' And that's what I was doing: counting things, making sure everyone had enough of what they needed.”

Apart from finding exquisite, inexpensive French restaurants and interesting exotic gifts (“It wasn't all work,” O'Brien says), the event that stands out most in O'Brien's memory of his four years of active duty in Germany took place in 1973, when Israel was attacked by Egypt and Syria in what would eventually be known as the Yom Kippur War. O'Brien was deployed to Israel to provide its struggling troops with equipment, a mission he describes as “covert.”

“There was a time when all of this information was classified,” O'Brien says of the mission, which, at that time, had no official U.S. involvement. “But (the Zweibrucken base) was the closest source of supplies, and if we hadn't got involved, (Israel) would have gone under.”

O'Brien says his time in Germany, which ended when he was discharged in 1974, was “a great experience,” one in which he and Judy lived “on the economy, made a lot of friends and were immersed in the culture.”

“History repeated itself,” says Judy, pointing out a noteworthy coincidence. “As a second lieutenant, he married me, and we lived in Germany. My mother married my father as a second lieutenant, and they also lived in Germany, where they had me. The only difference with us is we didn't bring home a baby.”

Back in the States, however, they did give birth to their first son, Jonathan. It was 1975, roughly one year after O'Brien started working with the Catholic church, a gig that would last three years and allow him to put his logistic skills to use.

With little to no direction, O'Brien helped to organize the 41st Eucharistic Congress, a week-long “spiritual Olympics” that draws in millions of Catholics and religious figures from around the world, and takes years to put together.

After a number of high-ranking cardinals proclaimed that the 1976, Philadelphia-set event was the best of its kind, O'Brien was commissioned to write an instruction manual on how to properly coordinate a Eucharistic Congress. The manual, which O'Brien believes is still in use today, bought him his next car.

In 1978, shortly after buying his current home, O'Brien also applied his training and talents to a job at Conrail, a now-defunct freight railroad company, where he says he felt comfortable since the structure of railroad corporations is similar to that of the Army.

He stuck with Conrail for 20 years, “going down many different career paths,” and all the while remaining active in the Army Reserves. In the late '80s, he became a civil affairs officer, and in the '90s, during and after the Gulf War, he was deployed to Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Bosnia to interface with local suppliers for logistic purposes.

In 1998, when Conrail was broken up and absorbed by Norfolk Southern and CSX, O'Brien briefly worked for a start-up Internet sales company before landing a gig with Sunoco in 2000. The position came just one year after O'Brien was forced to retire from the military due to his age and years of service. He still works for Sunoco today.

“And what am I doing for them?” he asks, rhetorically. “Logistics. In fact, making sure the railroads that bought Conrail move Sunoco's products to Sunoco's customers.”

Coming up on O'Brien's agenda is his 62nd birthday in February. Wife Judy, son Jonathan, son Jason, daughter Jennifer and granddaughters Anne-Sophie and Juliet may well help him celebrate, but it's safe to assume he'll be the one planning the party.