Fr. Robert “Bob” Swick
Fr. Robert “Bob” Swick | U.S. Marine Corps Officer | Vietnam Veteran | Servant Leader in Clearwater & Dunedin
Fr. Robert “Bob” Swick (known to many simply as “Father Bob”) was born in Ohio, then moved during high school to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania—a tough transition in his senior year, where his new graduating class was bigger than his entire former school.
The “accidental” college path that became a calling
He didn’t plan on college—he wanted to go into sales. But a friend invited him to ride along to apply to the University of Scranton (a Jesuit university). A priest encouraged Bob to take the entrance test too.
Bob passed
His friend failed
Bob enrolled at Scranton—and within the first weeks, Marine recruiters arrived on campus.
Driven by patriotism, he joined the Marine Corps PLC (Platoon Leaders Class) program while also doing ROTC (Scranton required it as a federally-granted college). He signed his contract freshman year and graduated four years later as a Second Lieutenant (“a brown bar pinned on me”).
Officer training: Quantico and “The Basic School”
Bob describes officer training as more intense because officers must lead Marines:
12 weeks at Quantico
Then The Basic School (normally 6 months)
His Basic School class became the first to be cut short—“90-day wonders”—because the Corps urgently needed officers in Vietnam.
Vietnam: Recon, infantry, and wounded five days before rotation
Bob deployed to Da Nang, Vietnam, assigned to 1st Recon Battalion, then transferred to 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines (in/around Quảng Nam, as he describes it).
Key points from his combat tour:
He was nearing the end of his 13-month rotation and was supposed to stay back during a short stand-down period.
He volunteered to go out again—and that’s when he was wounded, five days before rotation.
In that same operation he lost a close friend, a company commander, killed while saving his men—Bob notes he later received the Medal of Honor posthumously.
He vividly remembers the heroism of helicopter crews coming in “lights on” under fire to extract wounded.
Bob states he received the Purple Heart and later mentions being awarded a Bronze Star with Combat “V” among other decorations.
Hospital, then Japan (the place he originally wanted)
Bob had re-upped for an additional year on the understanding he’d go from Vietnam straight to Japan—but after his wounding:
He was sent to Philadelphia Naval Hospital (not Japan), where he jokes about dating nurses.
Eventually he did reach Japan: Iwakuni Air Station (near Hiroshima), where he served as Base Communications Officer.
He describes a fascinating cultural bridge-building routine:
Monthly meetings with Nippon Electric Company reps (the base’s power supplier)
Then, promptly at noon: golf—relationship-building in the late-1960s, not long after WWII.
Love story in Hiroshima—and a bilingual wedding
Bob regularly visited Hiroshima, intentionally choosing “Japanese only” restaurants to immerse himself. There he met Misuko, who became his wife.
Highlights:
She took him to an English-language movie with Japanese subtitles so he could follow along—his “this is true love” moment.
She was culturally Buddhist, with no formal organized religion practice; she was introduced to Catholicism by a Jesuit missionary from Spain fluent in Japanese.
Their wedding was conducted with the Jesuit officiating in Japanese and the base chaplain in English.
Return to the U.S.: corporate career + hostility + racism
Back in the States, he briefly served as a company commander at Camp Lejeune, then accepted a job with Dun & Bradstreet, living first in Westchester County, NY, then Ridgefield, Connecticut.
He recalls that period as painful:
The country was deeply divided over Vietnam.
He felt unwelcome as a Vietnam veteran.
His wife experienced racism—“double-barrel problem,” as he described it.
Marine Corps League: 20 Marines, a lifeline, and early PTSD support
In Ridgefield, a Marine placed a small newspaper ad seeking 19 Marines to form a Marine Corps League detachment.
Exactly 19 showed up.
They formed the detachment in 1972, and Bob notes it’s still active today.
He credits this brotherhood with saving marriages—and even lives—because many were carrying what they didn’t yet have a name for: PTSD. They turned shared pain into community service and a renewed sense of purpose.
Florida: “Heaven on Earth” and decades of veteran advocacy
After 14 years in Connecticut, two close Marine friends moved to Florida (Palm Harbor and Clearwater). Bob and his family visited, brought their adopted daughter to Disney, and decided: why go back?
He became a cornerstone of veteran civic life in Clearwater:
About 21 years ago, Clearwater asked veterans to take over Veterans Day programming.
A small group formed what became Clearwater Veterans Appreciation Day (CVAD), later expanding to Memorial Day and other community support.
About 10 years ago, the city allocated part of Crest Lake Park to veterans, creating the Veterans Memorial Plaza, modeled in concept after the Vietnam Wall, with black granite plaques honoring those who served.
He recalls high points like bringing in major ceremonial units and memorials (Silent Drill Platoon, Old Guard, traveling Vietnam Wall), and the importance of having counselors on hand—especially at night—when visitors are processing trauma.
Priesthood: a second life of service
About 13 years ago, Bob felt called to the priesthood:
Ordained after discernment in the Ukrainian Orthodox Catholic Church (bishop based in Tarpon Springs)
Later transferred into the Old Catholic Church
Serves a parish in Dunedin: St. Francis (Old Catholic Church)
He’s known locally for:
Blessing of the Animals (first Sunday of October) at the church and downtown Dunedin—about 150 animals last year, mostly dogs, plus some cats and even an injured turtle.
Ecumenical collaboration: ministerial lunches that sparked outreach like “Ashes to Go” downtown on Ash Wednesday and a public Good Friday Stations of the Cross procession with a full-sized cross carried down Main Street at noon.
“Get enrolled” — his VA turning point
One of the most consequential moments he shares happened when a local Veterans Services leader asked if he was enrolled in the VA.
Bob said no—he believed he didn’t qualify—even though he was:
Wounded in combat
Medevac’d
Purple Heart recipient
Bronze Star w/ Combat “V”, etc.
That official essentially refused to let him leave until he enrolled. Bob later learned he was 100% service-connected disabled, largely tied to PTSD he lived with for roughly 30 years before treatment.
His message is blunt:
The Vet Center and VA care “did wonders” for him.
Many older veterans decline benefits thinking it should go to someone else—Bob pushes back hard on that mindset.
VA support (especially meds and ongoing care management) can be life-changing and financially essential.
Advice to the next generation
Bob strongly encourages young people to consider the military:
Learn self-discipline
Learn a trade
Access education benefits
Get structure, purpose, and maturity that helps later in civilian life
He also emphasizes the danger of transition: losing routine and identity can contribute to the veteran suicide crisis, which local coalitions and orgs (he mentions the Red Star Foundation) work to address.
And—while he “preaches Marines”—he gives a practical recommendation:
Consider the U.S. Coast Guard, because even in peacetime they’re operational daily (rescue, interdiction, real-world missions), not just training.
Closing tone
In his final seconds, he keeps it humble and humorous—hoping he “didn’t break the camera”—and expresses gratitude for the opportunity to keep serving his community.