One of the things I love best about going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house is the stories I know will greet me there. Some I will have heard before–Many, in fact. But with each retelling, I hear another detail, another glimpse at the history of my grandparents. I’ve learned to keep a notebook handy so I can jot down pertinent details of the stories so I won’t forget them.
This trip was rich in history–both because of the stories Grandpa told, and because of the mementos and photos I found in the basement. Grandpa talked quite a deal about his time in Korea–and this time I got most of it down on paper.
Grandpa was drafted not long after he and Grandma were married. He went away to Basic training, then to mountain school in Colorado. After that, he was sent away to Japan to be a Mountain climbing instructor.
When there were a whole mass of casualties on the front line, Grandma says, they needed more cannon fodder. And Grandpa was sent to the front to be that cannon fodder.
Grandma was at home, teaching school and listening for every report on the war. When she heard that the 25th Division Baker Company had been annihilated–it was the worst news of her life. Grandpa was in the Baker Company of the 27th Regiment, 25th Division. There was no way of knowing whether he had been among those killed. It was the end of the school year, with only the end of the year picnic to go, and Grandpa’s mom had heard the same report. Great-Grandma rushed up to comfort Grandma–or maybe to grieve with her. It took 13 days, 13 long days of uncertainty before a letter reached Grandma–a letter dated after the report.
Grandpa talks of how the war was mismanaged by Harry Truman–how they had no bulletproof vests, and several groups of Korean troops were assembled but had no equipment with which to fight. He says that when “Ike” became president, the first thing he did was get the troops bulletproof vests and equip the Korean troops. Grandpa says that he remembers pulling shrapnel out of his bulletproof vest–and not even wanting to think of how deep that same shrapnel might have gone if it hadn’t have been for that vest.
Perhaps the saddest story of all of Grandpa’s war time stories is how he describes the North Koreans. Grandpa said that there was a valley that was no man’s land–it was good rice land–and while truce talks were going on, North Koreans came down into that valley and started planting. The government said that was a Chinese trick–that they were trying to advance their soldiers by masquerading them as farmers. But Grandpa spent an afternoon watching one old man through his scope–and that was no soldier. It was an old farmer–and he was hungry. Grandpa almost always tears up when he tells this story–and when he speaks of the condition of the North Korean’s even today. The North Korean’s were hungry–and they still are, to this day.
The soldiers got “points” for their service–one point for a safe place like Colorado, one and a half points for Japan (if they were married), and four points for combat zones. There were two and three point zones too–but Grandpa says he couldn’t find a three point zone. Apparently, if you accumulated a certain number of points, you had fulfilled your service and could go home early. Grandpa accumulated quite a few in his stint as “cannon fodder.” And he had the additional advantage that several men in line in front of him had to stay in Korea for treatment of venereal diseases.
Grandpa wrote a postcard–one that I foolishly failed to take a picture of this time. In large block letters, he wrote on the back of the card: “Darling, ON MY WAY HOME. MORE LATER, MAYBE. Ron” He said he wrote it big enough that his mother, who was the postmistress, couldn’t help but hear the news too. It was the happiest news they’d received in a long time. He was on his way.
A few years back, at the 50th anniversary of the end of the Korean conflict, Grandpa received a collection of medals that he shows us grandkids every so often. One from the US with three bronze stars for meritorious conduct. One that indicates that he came under fire–served in active combat. One from the UN that acknowledges his service. One from South Korea that thanks him for his service.
He didn’t talk much about Korea for many years. Wounds from there and wounds from those here who took his service lightly while they played politics to get out of serving themselves took their toll on him. Grandpa was an angry man for many years over some of the experiences there–and from the response of his countrymen here. But God has been gracious, and has allowed that anger to soften a bit–and we hear in Grandpa’s stories the compassion of a man who did his duty. He fought in a war that he considered unjust, that he felt was mismanaged, that ultimately accomplished very little. But, even as he longed for his own home and his own farm, he looked through the scope of his gun and saw the person he was told was his enemy–farming in no man’s land because he was hungry–and Grandpa had compassion on him. The same compassion that I see every time he tells his stories.
