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U.S. Army LTC Richard H. Sorrell

Richard H. “Rick” Sorrell was born in Seattle, WA, on 14 August 1946 and passed away on Wednesday evening, 15 April 2026, at the age of 79. He was a loving husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, but he was also a loyal son, brother, nephew, cousin, and uncle. He was a soldier, an officer, a leader, a minister, and a friend. He was known for his quick wit and humor, his kinship and generosity, and his love and leadership to all who knew him.

Rick grew up in Portsmouth, VA, and the Chesapeake Bay area, where he attended Woodrow Wilson High School and played Varsity Football. He graduated in 1964, where he was voted “CUTEST” in his class. While in high school, he was the coach of a powder-puff football team where he met the love of his life, Sherry. The two dated steadily for the next few years, and no other man was even allowed to look at his girl. The two were married before Rick’s first deployment overseas. Rick had enlisted in the US Army in August 1967 and served two combat tours in the Vietnam Conflict.

After completing Officer Candidate School, for his first tour, he was deployed as the only ‘straight leg’ in the 101st Airborne Division as a 2nd LT. His second tour as a 1st LT resulted in a battlefield commission to the rank of Captain after he volunteered for an assignment with the Military Assistance Command – Vietnam Special Operations Group (MACV-SOG). In between his two deployments, he was able to be there for the birth of his daughter, Christy, in 1970. In 1974, he graduated from Old Dominion University with a bachelor’s and then a master’s degree in business administration. In fact, on the first day of his last semester, his wife went into labor with their second child, his son, David. He raced home, where his dear wife had a double scotch in her hand waiting for him when he got there, and then they went off to the hospital. He was the best father anyone could ever ask for.

Throughout his 23-year Active-Duty career, Rick was an Infantry soldier first and foremost, earning his wings (Airborne Infantry) at the age of 36. By the time he had retired he had earned the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and had been awarded numerous commendations and awards to include the Combat Infantryman Badge, Expert Infantryman Badge, Bronze Service Medal, the Purple Heart, numerous Air Medals, the Army Commendation Medal, the National Defense Service Medal, the Vietnam Service Medal, NCO Professional Development Ribbon, Army Service Ribbon, Parachutist Badge, Meritorious Service Medal, and the Legion of Merit. He attended the Infantry School, the Infantry Officer Advanced School, Command and General Staff College, and was one of the first graduates of the Material Acquisition

Management (MAM) course, and becoming a US Army acquisition officer. Just prior to his retirement in 1989, he was the Product Manager for the highly classified missile program, Tacit Rainbow, that was first publicly referenced in the Tom Clancy novel “Rainbow Six”.

After retiring from active duty, Rick continued to serve his country and was a pillar in the Redstone Arsenal community in Huntsville, AL, across both missile and aviation programs. He supported the development of the Army ATACMS Bat missile, the THAAD and Joint Tactical Unmanned Aerial Vehicle (JTUAV)product offices, the Precision Fires and C-RAM project offices, and the Comanche Helicopter Program. He served in the Federal Civil Service as the Director of Acquisition Support at the Missile Defense Agency from 2010-2015, then returned to Precision Fires, where he supported the Engineering Directorate and the Precision Strike Missile product office until his final retirement in 2024.

When not directly serving the United States of America, Rick was serving others. He was an avid supporter of the Boy Scouts of America and served local troops as an Assistant Scout Master (ASM), committee member, and even served as an advisor to the Greater Alabama Council. He personally mentored his son and two of his grandsons along their path, each earning the rank of Eagle Scout. He was a passionate firearm enthusiast, an instructor for the National Rifle Association (NRA), and a founding member and instructor for the North Alabama Firearm Training (NAFT), LLC, where he focused on providing education to those who might not otherwise have the opportunity - instructing women and young adults on one of his lifelong priorities, firearm safety. He was a good Christian man who lived and served as a witness to his faith with all who encountered him. He was an elder and a faithful servant of his Lord Jesus Christ, and he taught the wisdom and the lessons of the Gospels throughout his adult life. He completed the Walk to Emmaus with his son in 1994 and became an ordained minister and officiated over the wedding of his granddaughter, Rebecca, in 2023.

He is preceded in death by his mother, Mildred (Ballantine) “Grammie” Sorrell, his father-in-law, Lonnie “Popa” Johnson, and his mother-in-law, Christine (Williams) “Mamaw” Johnson. He is survived by his wife of 58 years, Sherry (Johnson) Sorrell, his brother, Ron (Laura) Sorrell; his children: Christy(Bob) Copeland, and David (Michelle) Sorrell; his grandchildren: LCDR Bobby(Micah) Copeland, Rebecca (Darin) Taylor, DPT, Cody Copeland, Skylar Sorrell, Landon Sorrell, Rivers Sorrell, and Ashton Prestage, DO; and his great-grandchildren: Colt Copeland and Lofton Taylor, and many nephews and nieces.

A memorial service will be held at Berryhill Funeral Home on May 3rd. Visitation from 3:00 pm-4:00 pm with a Memorial Service immediately following. He will be interred with Full Military Honors at Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C., later this year. The family appreciates all gestures of kindness, including flowers, donations, or personal tributes. Donations may be made to the Tunnels to Towers Foundation or the Army Emergency Relief (AER) Fund on his behalf.

Grandchildren Tributes:

Rebecca: Grandaddy made it a point to be present for the moments that mattered. He was at every one of my soccer games growing up, a steady and familiar face on the sidelines. From high school to club, college, and even into my semi-pro years in my mid-20s, my grandaddy was always there. I can still picture him with his cooler, always stocked with cold Gatorades, ready to celebrate and take care of us after each game—win or lose. Some of my favorite memories with him were the quiet moments we shared after my high school games. We would stop by the International House of Pancakes, just the two of us, and sit and talk. Those conversations meant more to me than I can fully put into words—they were simple, but they were ours. He showed his love in the most consistent and thoughtful ways, and because of that, his presence will always stay with me. He will be greatly missed, and his love will forever be carried in my heart.

Rivers Sorrell: My grandaddy was very special to me. I have memories of when he would come watch me play soccer all over the south. I have a lot of text from him talking about my football games, soccer games, and keeping good grades. My grandaddy was always there for me when I needed someone to talk to. He would always pick up the phone when I called. He was the wisest man I ever talked to. He always had a solution for my problems, even for how complex or weird they were. I love and miss my grandaddy very much. Also, the best-smelling dude I’ve ever been around.

Skylar Sorrell: A grandchild's relationship with their grandparent is truly incomparable, and that's nothing short of my own relationship with my granddaddy. He was an amazing man, a devoted husband, father, and grandfather who always made time to listen and offer thoughtful advice. Those conversations and the guidance he gave are things I will miss deeply. He truly had a special way of making you feel heard, as if every word you said mattered, even when you were simply sharing a lighthearted story. I will forever be grateful for the love we shared and the steady presence he had in my life.

Landon Sorrell: The Man. The Myth. The Legend.Also known as Grandaddy. He was a man I could count on for anything, steady and dependable in every season of life. His wisdom was second to none, always offering guidance that stuck with you long after the conversation ended. Whether it was a simple talk or one of his pregame speeches reminding me why I love the game, he had a way of putting things into perspective and bringing out the best in me. Some of my favorite memories are the birthdays I spent with him at Burk’s Skeet Blast, moments that will stay with me forever. No matter how bad a day was, one call to him could turn it around, and you’d hang up smiling. The voicemails he left me are things I’ll always hold onto. He wasn’t just my grandfather; he was my mentor, my supporter, and someone whose impact on my life will never fade.

Cody: Grandaddy meant a lot to me. He was the man who was always in my corner. Sometimes that meant sharing food and drink, finding a place to go and relax, or just being present to listen and talk to about life and my problems - I always knew that if something happened, I could call and he would be there. He always pushed me to be more than I was at that moment, whether that was in school, in sports, or in other parts of my life. He was a role model in every sense, and his words of wisdom, whether in jest or in all seriousness, will always be with me. He was a great man whom I loved dearly. I miss him dearly. I know he is in a better place, yet he will always be that rock, and he will be with me for the rest of my life.

Bobby: As the eldest grandchild, I was blessed to be able to spend so much meaningful time with Grandaddy. He played a profound role in shaping the man I am today. His unwavering dedication to his faith, his family, and his country is something I have always deeply admired and looked up to. His passion, constant presence at every major life event, and Grandaddy humor will be deeply missed, but not forgotten. Some fond memories include:

•“Assisting” Grandaddy by riding along as he mowed the lawn on his riding mower

•Driving around town together in his small red Chevy step-side pickup truck

•Waking up to his famous giant pancake breakfasts, with all the grandkids singing, “Grandaddy’s great, he makes us pancakes!”

•Enjoying Friday pizza and movie nights at Grandmommy and Grandaddy’s house

•Practicing spelling with him and enjoying ribs every Thursday after school at Ryan’s Steakhouse during grade school

•Playing catch with me for hours in the backyard and serving as Assistant Coach for my All-Star baseball team

•Attending Monday evening Boy Scout meetings with me, followed by burgers and shakes at Cheeseburger Cheeseburger throughout middle and high school

•Listening to the heroic stories from his time in the Army

•Being present with wise advice for my High School Soccer State Championship, earning my Eagle Scout, high school graduation, and acceptance into the U.S. Coast Guard Academy

•Proudly presenting my commission at my graduation from the U.S. Coast Guard Academy

•Offering mentorship alongside his calm presence at my wedding

•Holding my son—his first great-grandson—for the first time!

Ashton  For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Ashton Prestage. Thank you all so much for coming today to honor the life of my Grandaddy Sorrell.

He made his love for me known and I want to honor him today and share with you all the love I had for him.

When I think of my Grandaddy Sorrell, I think of a tall, strong man whose laugh could fill an entire room. This was my first impression of him as a little girl and it is still the image my mind reverts to when I think of him.

I think of his kind eyes, his big smile he never failed to greet me with, and how warm it felt when I put my head on his chest to give him a hug.

Warm- that’s a good way to describe him. I remember one cold winter night when I was spending the night with him and Grandmommy and we pulled our coats on to take Skeeter for a walk.

That was one thing- he always had the best coats, gloves, everything. He always looked so handsome and so sharp. But I remember somehow despite it being in the dead of winter, all I felt was the light coming from the house and how safe I felt with him even in the dark of night. He just had that way about him. Every memory I have with him, I distinctly remember feeling at ease.

When I think of my Grandaddy Sorrell, I can hear the ice in his cooler, moving in unison with him as he met me with a yellow Gatorade (he knew it was my favorite) and chocolate milk after my soccer games. I will forever be grateful for him showing up for me- whether it was on the hottest, muggiest day of the year, or if he had to dodge muddy pools of water after a day of relentless rain, or on the days it felt impossible to escape the cold. He was there cheering for me, yelling at me to use my right foot as a natural born leftie, and always was willing to debrief how my game went.

When I think of my Grandaddy Sorrell, I also think of his love for movie nights, piling up to watch a classic like National Treasure, and getting giddy about an endless supply of popcorn, M&Ms, and a nice cold Coca Cola. I think of celebrating Christmas in July after him and my Grandmommy patiently waited for a weekend I could come open my presents with them. I was so young then but I can distinctly remember saying “another one!” and somehow he would always reappear with another present for me to open. I also remember dancing around the living room with him and giving him “fashion shows” to show off all my new outfits after a day of shopping with Grandmommy.

But the main thing I think of when I think of my Grandaddy Sorrell, is how much he loved my Grandmommy. He modeled what it meant to be a good husband and to honor your wife.

And to be honest- I can see him in every member of this family that he helped create. I can see his eyes, his nose, his smile, his thick hair. I can feel and the high standards we hold our self to because he encouraged us to be our absolutely best selfs and not to settle for anything less. And that is what gives me hope today that we can go on without him, because he has given us each a piece of himself to carry with us. He was such a beautiful man and I take comfort in knowing he’s now with Jesus, completely healed, and perfect. I love you Grandaddy, I always will. Thank you for loving me so well. 

My Big Brother Only Gave Me One Bad TipMy brother, Richard, was born in 1946 in Washington state while our father was stationed at Fort Lewis. I was born in 1949 in Portsmouth, VA. So, Richard and I were born in locations 2,500 miles apart and were separated by about three years in age.

He was my Big Brother. He was a very good Big Brother. I can remember him giving me lots of good “tips” while growing up that helped me navigate several “important” childhood milestones.

Like, for example:

sneaking out of my crib and bed to play without my mother ever knowing I had not taken a nap;

playing board games like chess, checkers, Parcheesi, and Monopoly;

playing card games like Blackjack and poker, gambling my penny collection away;

collecting, shooting, and winning beautiful cat-eyed marbles in dirt rings around the neighborhood;

learning to steady and ride a 2-wheel bicycle without fear of falling;

demonstrating how to ride my bike down the steep rock-pile slopes near Dale Homes and the railroad tracks at great-neck speed—without incurring serious bodily injury (dangerous but great fun)!

catching and throwing a baseball in our side yard without breaking windows on the house;

blocking and tackling safely in football with only minimal “hurt”;

introducing and teaching me the “art” of newspaper delivery (my first “real” job);

making change quickly and accurately;

spending my newspaper delivery profits of 50 cents at our neighborhood café, Oakey’s, on two hot dogs, an order of fries, a Coke, and a piece of blueberry pie…with enough money left over to play one song in the Juke Box—and if Richard was with me—he always suggested I play— “Sherry” by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons (GO FIGURE !?!);

taking me to Sunday School and church on those Sundays our mother could not make it.

And later in my teenage years, when we were students at Woodrow Wilson High School in Portsmouth, VA (Richard was a senior and I was a freshman), he would offer me helpful tips on dealing with driving, girls, dating, and dancing. And…my brother was a terrific dancer!

When we became adults, and we discovered that we had differing opinions on many topics, Richard still offered me good advice on topics ranging from religion and politics—marriage and family—buying and selling—finance and investing—gun safety and sports—parenting and grandparenting—living and loving! He was always a guy who was willing to share his opinions and “TIPS” he believed in and lived by.

But I would, on occasion, remind him of the only “bad tip” he ever gave me. It was one of his most PAINFUL, and it lasted a LIFETIME! This BAD TIP was, indeed, memorable; however, in all honesty, it was not intentional nor wanton.

I would jest with Richard that his one BAD tip did NOT resonate with me in the same way as his other sound and moral pronouncements…but like his good tips…it did stay with me for a lifetime.

You see…this bad tip from Richard just happened to be physically manifested—on my left hand—specifically, my left thumb—and more specifically—the TIP of my left thumb!

One day as young children (Richard was about 7 years old and I was about 4 years old), we were engaged in our frequent rough-house stunt of playfully beating up on each other on the floor of our mother’s immaculately clean and well-kept living room. Boys wrestle, and they don’t care where! Mothers do! When our mother heard the “wrestling match” coming from the living room where she displayed and protected her beautiful antique furniture, plush oriental carpets, German China and figurines, Victorian chairs and sofa, stunning drapes, pictures, and mirrors—and other collectibles that meant nothing to Richard and I, but everything to her—she screamed for us to get out of the living room and go outside, especially if we were going to continue to “beat up” on each other. “Don’t wrestle in the living room!”, she yelled.

Next thing I know, Richard took one last swipe at me that made stinging contact on my arm as he began a hasty retreat. He started running for the kitchen door at the rear of the house. I pursued, likewise, in great haste. We ran through the dining room toward the kitchen with our mother hollering for us to slow down! Richard got to the kitchen door in full stride and literally kicked the door open with his foot. I was close behind in all-out pursuit…and, as it turned out…too close behind. As Richard cleared the opening and readied himself to leap over the steps leading to the kitchen door…he ferociously slammed the outer screen door in my face…and unfortunately…on the left thump that I had inadvertently placed in the doorsill to guide and support my jump, which constituted an equally hurried and unbalanced exit. OUCH! … is an understatement! I screamed at the top of my lungs after the door slammed on the tip of my thumb! Blood started to flow; the very tip of my thumb was mangled--but still there--dangling on a small piece of flesh. It probably sounds worse than it really was…but…I, nonetheless, let the neighbors witness and hear my pain! My mother looked at my thumb…and tried not to gasp…wrapped my hand in a towel…and, like many times while raising Richard and myself…hurriedly whisked me off to Dr. Golden’s office, which thankfully was just one block from our house.

Well, in Paul Harvey fashion, let me tell you the rest of the story. I lived. The injury was only to the very tip of my thumb. No major blood vessels or nerves were damaged; no bone was involved. Dr. Golden said that if he taped the tip of my thumb back in place, the skin and tissues would have enough circulation to regenerate and heal. No stitches were needed.

Now, the thumb did heal, but it left a small, visible scar for the rest of my life. The tip of my left thumb never looked quite normal, like the tip of my right thumb. It was a slight cosmetic blemish that I was always aware of…but honestly…for the most part, no one else ever noticed.

All my life, I would remind Richard in a sarcastic and joking manner that he caused the “deformity” on my left thumb—a scar I have worn for a lifetime! He always joked back and reminded me that, “it could’ve been worse.” When I asked, “How so?” He laughed and said, “It could’ve been my thumb!”

Now, when I look at this scar on the left tip of my thumb, I always think of my Big Brother, and it reminds me…not of any pain or hard feelings…but of the love and respect we share for one another…the successes of two men despite growing up without a father…the beautiful families we cherish…the joy and happiness we have in living…and the grace and blessings our Lord bestows.

Sometimes one BAD TIP can be more profound and insightful than a thousand good tips.

TO MY BIG BROTHER:

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE TO OUR COUNTRY – TO OUR FAMILIES and FRIENDS

WELL DONE, GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT

Richard loved football, and often we discussed college football. With his move to Alabama, he could witness up close and personal one of the great college football rivalries in the United States: the Iron Bowl—Alabama vs. Auburn. Having stayed in Virginia myself, I attended the University of Virginia (Mr. Jefferson’s University). Comparatively, I didn’t experience consistent winning in college football, most notably, the bowl traditions and National Championships Richard could associate with the Iron Bowl.

However, I did let him know that a little bit of UVA was always present at all Iron Bowls. “How’s that?” Richard asked. I told him that in 1892, George Petrie left the University of Virginia to become the first football coach at Auburn University. Auburn at that time had not decided on school colors…so Coach Petrie chose for Auburn University the colors of his undergraduate alma mater, UVA. The colors of UVA are burnt orange and blue. My guess, also, was that he was the most educated of Auburn’s coaches, having earned a Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins University.

Richard was impressed with the University of Virginia's connection to Auburn University!

Roll Tide! War Eagles!!

GO HOOS!!!