Forrest received the Medal of Honor from President Johnson. But the medal meant nothing compared to the letter he wrote every night to Jenny, who was now a folk singer in Memphis, strumming her guitar in smoky clubs. He never mailed them. He just folded them into his pocket, next to a photograph of her.
“I’m gonna take him to school,” Forrest said, lifting the boy onto his lap. “He’s so smart, Jenny. The smartest.” . forrest gump
Then came Vietnam. The jungle was hot, wet, and full of things trying to kill them. During an ambush that turned the world into screaming chaos, Forrest ran back into the fire again and again, pulling out wounded men. He found Bubba last, slumped against a mud bank with a hole in his chest. Bubba’s last words were about going home. Forrest carried him out anyway, but Bubba died on the banks of a river he’d never see again. Forrest received the Medal of Honor from President Johnson
To keep a promise to Bubba, Forrest took his mustering-out pay—$24,000—and bought a shrimping boat. He named her the Jenny Lee . For months, he caught nothing. Hurricanes came and went, but the Jenny Lee survived. When Hurricane Carmen destroyed every other boat in the Gulf, Forrest was the last one standing. He hauled in shrimp by the ton, bought a fleet, and started the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company. “Somebody wrote a book about me once,” he told a stranger on the bus. “Said I was a idiot. But I sure do know how to make shrimp.” He just folded them into his pocket, next
After college, the Army felt like home. Basic training was simple—make your bed, follow orders, and always say “Yes, Drill Sergeant.” His best friend in the service was a black man named Bubba Blue, who knew everything about shrimp: how to catch them, cook them, and sell them. Bubba’s dream was to own a shrimping boat called the Jenny Lee . Forrest agreed to go into business with him. “We’re gonna be shrimpin’ billionaires,” Bubba said.
He didn’t know what the future held. But that was okay. He had a box of chocolates, a boy who needed him, and a pair of old Nikes that had carried him across America—twice—when he’d felt like running.
The braces came off when Forrest discovered he could run like the wind itself. He ran from a pack of bullies who threw rocks at him, his legs churning so fast the metal clamps snapped apart. Jenny’s voice echoed in his head: Run, Forrest, run! He never stopped running—literally or metaphorically—for the rest of his life.