LETTERS 25 to 49
Letter 25 - Written By:
Bob (Dov) Silverman
Ra'anana, 43251 Israel
October 24, 2006
From Bob Silverman, 3rd Battalion Fifth Marines Weapons Company ATAs Attached to Item Company Second Platoon, on the east coast of Korea Hill 820 (the Point).
In memory of Doc, the navy medic who saved my hands from frostbite and who went missing in action two days later.
In memory of Sarno who, a few days after that, came on line with us and was killed by a mortar.
I have not been able to locate either family. I would like them to know that the memories of their sons live on, not only in my memory but in the eight novels I have had published in five languages.
The story of the FIFTH MARINES is completed and I do hope a publisher will see fit to have it printed in memory of Doc and Sarno and all the good men who went to fight and die to preserve someone else's freedom.
They and so many others fulfilled their mission on earth.
Imitatio Dei, the imitation of God. They gave without the will to receive.
I got religion and moved to Israel 34 years ago. Here, I have had a career as an educator and a novelist.
Semper Fi.
Bob (Dov) Silverman
Letter 26 - Written By:
Donnna J. Adams
Mesa
AZ
October 24, 2006
My brother, my friend, Sgt. Vernie Ambrose Zurn, E CO 65th Inf. RGT 3 INF DIV, Army, Hostile, Died, Killed In Action, June 14, 1953. in North Korea
He was from Callaway, Minnesota, Becker County.
He was a loving, giving, outstanding person. He was my brother, my friend and one of 12 children. He and I were so close and did so many things together. I still miss him and will always miss him. He gave his life for our country as did thousands men and women of the United States.
To date we have not received any of his remains. I pray that some time during my life time I will be notified that they have been found.
Thank you to all the men and women that serve in the armed forces to protect our country.
Sincerely,
Donna J. Adams
Sister
Mesa, Arizona
Letter 27 - Written By:
Pamela S. Wise
Waynesburg
PA
Warren Jay Ingland
Corporal (CPL), United States Army
Personal Information: CPL Warren Jay Ingland, RA13287655, served in Headquarters Company, 3rd Battalion, 8th Cavalry Regiment, Pt Calvary Division. He became a "Prisoner of War" (POW) on November 2, 1950. Death cited on April 30, 1951. His name does not appear on the "Johnnie Johnson List," but is cited in the "Missing in Action, Captivity" report compiled from returning POW's. Field Search Case 310F
Dear Uncle Warren,
You were my mother's brother and I never got to meet you. You enlisted in the army when you were 20 years old. Jobs were hard to come by at the time and your brother suggested to you about joining the army. On August 10th, 1950 you wrote a letter to your brother saying you were on a harbor boat, The San Leandro, but not knowing where you were going. You did say it would take 14 days to get there by boat.
It was reported that during chaotic fighting on November 2, 1950, less than 3 months later, that you were lost in combat. At the end of the war, more than 4,400 returned American POW's were extensively questioned as to whom they had seen or heard to have died or captured while in captivity. Based on information provided by returned POW's, your status was changed to "POW" and it was reported that you died as a result of pneumonia while in captivity in a POW Camp #5 in Pyoktong, North Korea, sometime in the Spring of 1951. Your death was recorded as April 30, 1951 to reflect the latest possible date that you could have been presumed to have been alive. You were only 21 years old. You would never get married, never have children and never get to see what you could accomplish in your life. My father, my siblings, myself and our families never got to know you. It seems very unfair. Your remains were going to be brought home but family members were told that it may not even be your remains inside the casket and your dad and oldest sister had to make that decision.
In 2005 I was contacted about giving a blood sample to obtain DNA for a database for the unaccounted soldiers. It will be used for identification if needed to confirm or exclude identification of a service member's remains. My sister, Debbie, and myself gave the samples needed. Even though our mother passed away in 2001 we know that this is what she would want...to bring you home.
Growing up your picture hung in our livingroom. It was the picture that my mother had made for your memorial service and I remember it just being a part of our life. We heard the story of how you and other POW's gave some of your bread to fatten up a dog so it could be eaten but the dog was found by a guard and taken. We also knew that you had pneumonia and wasn't given the antibiotics needed and it ended up killing you. A guy that lived in a town near us had visited my mother and told her that he had helped bury you and that he could take her right to the spot where you were buried. I often wonder if he is still alive as it would be our greatest wish...to bring you home. My mother did place a memorial marker below your parents marker so you would always be remembered. We could always tell how much she loved you and we knew you were an uncle that we would never get to meet due to the Korean War, sometimes called the Forgotten War. May you and the others who served...still living or deceased never be forgotten.
I do want to tell you that you that I have 2 sons, Christopher and Brian who also were denied the privilege of knowing their Great Uncle Warren. My youngest son, Brian, was born on your birthday, 60 years after you were born and we gave him a second middle name to honor you and the love we always knew my mother had for you. His name is Brian Michael Warren Wise. I was proud... as growing up our mother let us know how very special you were and I was proud for my son to bear your name.
How I wish I could have known you... All my love,
Pamela Sue Smalske Wise
Letter 28 - Written By:
Hub LaLonde
Niagra Falls
ON
October 24, 2006
I as a comrade who was with you the day before cannot figure what happened to you that early morning and why was your name on the prisoner list to be returned but you did not return?
We all still think about you and we pray for you. I know how much you parents missed you and how long they looked for you but now they know where you are as they have also passed on.
We the living survivors are now getting up there in age which you did not get to do.
We are all in our 70’s and up and dieing. So we will all get together again in time.
You’re Comrade,
Hub Lalonde 2 p.p.c.l.i. Korea
Niagara Falls Ont Canada
So long young friend
Letter 29 - Written By:
Robert (Bob) Bach
October 24, 2006
THREE WERE DEAD
We left our training camp to parts unknown.
Heads held high like kings on a thrown.
As we traveled with uncertainty ahead,
We never dreamed, soon three would be dead.
All we thought of was glory and fame,
For our homes, to make a name.
When we boarded our ship of destiny,
Our buddies were there with sympathy.
We didn't know what future held for some,
All that was known, is it had to be done.
To the pier in Kobe we proudly marched.
With heavy pack our backs were arched.
We climbed aboard a British ship,
Knowing now we couldn't quit.
We steamed out of the harbor, full speed ahead,
Still not knowing that, three would be dead.
We hit a storm not two days out.
The storm was fierce but the ship was stout.
The men got sick and the ship seemed frail.
As it tossed about in the windy gale.
The storm subsided and we steamed ahead,
Still not knowing that, three would be dead.
The third day came and we laid below.
We got our briefing as to where we’d go.
Intelligence reported, the coast was clear
And only friendly rice farmers and fishermen near.
Maps were studied and data was read,
Still not knowing that, three would be dead.
Letter 30 - Written By:
Anonymous
Dear Joe
Milly has never stopped missing you.
If I have seen it once Ive seen it a hundred thousand times when others eyes are bright, hers are downcast.
She moves slowly and deliberately as someone does when there are other things on their minds? She gives a quiet smile when others belly roll, quiet as others are loud.
I dont know if finding your remains will help, or finding you in the next life?
I pray for the best?
I want peace and solice for the both of you that this life has denied her since you were lost?
anon
Letter 31 - Written By:
Milton (Milt) Grismore
October 24, 2006
Names I do not remember, incidents I do
The Naktong River line was a jumble of small to large battles, there were
atrocities, there was compassion, there never was despair as we were sure of
our own destiny. Our dead, all young brave lay strewn about on the ground
like fallen fruit cast aside, we prayed for them.
Kunu-ri was a rude awakening for us. We knew that somewhere out there were
Chinese forces. They hit us at the moment of our misplaced surety. Moving
through our lines in formation, sounding bugles, drums and using flares for
communication we were frightened at the unknown. Again we confusedly ran for
a safety that did not exist. We suffered an ignominious turn around and lost
thousands of our youth that hell week.
Christmas found us in the cold mountains south of the 38th parallel, dug in
and waiting for an attack that came after the 1st of the new year. We held
for the most part, we began to drive back North, both Armies suffering from
the cold, a dry wind blowing from Siberia decimated both armies.
Wonju, Chip-yong-ni and Heong-song followed by massive Communist incursions
to be decimated by U.N. forces and massive artillery fire.
We continued to move North causing heavy enemy casualties, many of our loses
were large, but, we held.
We fought in the Iron Triangle [a massive enemy buildup and holding area}
and persevered, around the reservoir, up into the Tiabok mountains for
Bloody Ridge, Heartbreak Ridge, Old Baldy and many unnamed mountains which
became bastions .
On this day I Salute our honored dead, names unknown to me, who fell in
death in a war in a place they detested.
Milt' Grismore
Hq/C Btries, 15th FA Bn, 2 ID
1950/1951
Letter 32 - Written By:
John Quinn
October 24, 2006
Dear Oscar Flenory,
It wasn't until I happened to be walking through the central cemetery in downtown Miami back in 1960 that I happened upon your grave, and was saddened to read your name and date of death on the headstone.
I had not heard of your demise, probably because most of us returning back from Feacom became separated from one another as we were separated from the service. Most of the guys that we took basic training with shipped out to many different outfits once reaching Camp Drake, and soon lost contact.
I remembered those times during our escapades in the South Carolina woods or at Leesburg firing range when you and I would trade smiles, and always remind one another how we were yearning to return to Miami as soon as possible to our friends and relatives.
Well, I did finally make it back and I am so saddened that you were that unfortunate to have returned the unplanned way you did.
Many of us were lucky enough to return home in good health, and unscathed by the horrors of war, but many weren't so fortunate, and they gave their last full measure of devotion for their country. You were one of those, and I salute you.
Some day we will meet again.
Your friend,
John T. Quinn US53063749
Editor Note: Oscar died while a member of the 31st Infantry Regiment, 7th ID - 7/11/1952
Letter 33 - Written By:
Dick Predmore
Azle
TX
October 24, 2006
When I returned from Korea, I was assigned to the Pentagon, billeted at the South Post, Ft. Meyer Va. 1953 through 1955. We lived on the grounds of Arlington National Cemetery. I watched as the Iwo Jima Monument was erected. I marched in Funeral Processions. Arlington National Cemetery was an ongoing history lesson as you traversed their domain. In those days you could stroll leisurely, in solitude, among the many monuments and commemorative structures, such as the USS Maine etc. In places where you could feel the hardships and struggles by so many whom in comradeship, had perished for the sake of their loved ones liberty and freedom. There are so many.
Over the years I have returned to Arlington National Cemetery and visited many of the more famous interred there in the likes of Audie Murphy, and the Shuttle Astronauts, and again the Iwo Jima Monument. Early on, my self-guided tours covered the entirety of the cemetery, reading names and events of sacrifice and of painful victory.
My favorite and most frequent visitation area is that of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers. Back then it was an awe inspiring experience to sit in solitude, alone, in the evening time, with only the static clicking of the sentry's execution of his patrol.
I would often reflect while there, of those who perished in Korea, and World Wars I and II. They remain unknown. But this Tomb also represents the many comrades, whose name was Mac, Smitty, Jonesy Shorty, Stretch, and the multitude of nicknames we called each other. Many of their proper names we knew not. Nor did we know anything else personal about them. Are they interred here, or in another National Cemetery? Did they have family? Some we knew for only a few days.
Our memories of the names are long gone even if we did know them. What we will never forget are their faces, their devotion to duty, their comradeship, and their selfless sacrifice for the sake of freedom.
These faces can be viewed through your heart, in the Tomb of the Unknowns. Their names may be unknown, but not their faces.
I can talk to comrades whom I cannot identify by name at this monument for them. I must be honest, after getting out of service; I put Korea completely out of my mind. I did not think about it until talk of building a Korean War Memorial woke me up. I began to realize that what we did in Korea was really monumental, and I was a part of that. But what can I do now?
My comrades I joined a Korean War Veterans Group, and with the help of another Korean Veteran in Iowa, was able to start a Chapter in Dallas/Ft. Worth, TX. With the help of 10 other Korean Veterans that gathered in my dining room, and with the help from our wives we formed a Chapter in 11 days.
My comrades, you may ask "What do you do? Meet and have a few beers for us?"
No. Sir! We set up a Commemorative Table for you so that you are always in our hearts. We take your stories and ours to the Community, and into the School System and have classes for the Teachers as well as the students. We call it the "Tell America" program. We are spreading it Nation wide. We also try to reach any veteran to seek VA Assistance wherever possible. These are our two priorities. Too many projects, at our ages muddies the waters, and makes it difficult to accomplish. Our work is for God and Country. Our youth and history are the future, and keeping our veterans healthy to promote it is paramount.
So many of you have not had the opportunity to grow up and have families.
Our own special family of comrades is inseparable, as well as unforgettable.
Oh yes, we will on occasion, if you insist, have a beer, but only in a toast to you.
My comrades, forgive me if your name evades me. Some of your pictures are on the wall in the Monument dedicated to all of us. I probably would not recognize, or place a name anyway.
But rest assured my comrades both living and deceased, that if you are in the vicinity of Arlington National Cemetery, and are listening to the prayers offered to at the Tomb of The Unknown Soldiers. They are also meant for you.
FOR HERE RESTS IN HONORED GLORY AMERICAN SOLDIERS, KNOWN BUT TO GOD.AND ALL AMERICAN SOLDIERS WHOSE NAMES WE FORGOT.
FREEDOM IS NOT FREE
Dick Predmore
Founding President Gen.Walton H Walker Chapter 215 Dallas/Ft.Worth
Letter 34 - Written By:
Kathleen Jean Farrar Carpenter
Raymond
ME
This is a letter to my brother, Malcolm Douglas Perkins, who was tortured and killed in a prisoner of war camp in North Korea. The
official documented date of his death was April 30, 1952 (6 months before I was born). He was 18 years old.
November 4, 2006
Dear Mac,
I am writing this day to honor your short life of 18 years on this earth and to thank you (as well as all veterans of the armed services) for serving our country. You were the first-born child of six sons and one daughter. Our mother, Beryl Perkins Farrar, missed you every single day of her life since your passing. She was pre-deceased by 3 sons, Richard, Donald and you. She lost our father, Edwin, only 3 years after your passing. Stephen, Roger, Robert and myself, Kathleen (your youngest sibling) are the four now remaining.
Our mother spoke of you on occasion but it was painful for her to look back to those days. She told me that you were only 17 when you went off to war. You threatened to lie about your age to go and so, reluctantly, she and dad signed the papers to let you go.
She read your missing in action papers when she was carrying me in her womb. She told me that on the day you were buried in Arlington, a small group of parents huddled close together in prayer. They were feeling both angry and sad that they could not view the bodies before they were placed into rest at the cemetery burial site. She told me, "Their bodies were too decomposed and the only thing that we could hope for was that if it wasn't
our children lying in those caskets before us, then somewhere else, someone was praying over our children as we might have done for theirs."
She also spoke of the horrible conditions that American soldiers endured in that war-torn country. Her voice would sometimes break as she described the frigid cold over there in those mountains of snow. She spoke of the many soldiers that died due to cold climate exposure because they lacked protective clothing and boots. You were used to harsh wintry climates having been raised on a farm in the mountain regions of northern Maine. However, our mother said, "There was nothing that could have prepared the boys for what they had to endure over there".
After our mother's death in 1999, I learned about your childhood friend, Red Champion, who also served over there in North Korea. He died about 5 years ago I was told. His troop had been sent on a mission to rescue you and the others from the prisoner of war camp. They almost reached your location but they were suddenly overwhelmed by the enemy forces and were hugely outnumbered. Only two American soldiers survived that brutal attack and Red was one of them.
After coming back to the states, he returned to live his remaining years in northern Maine. Sadly, I was told that psychologically, he was never the same. He was haunted by his war memories and tormented by your tragic death. He eventually, married our cousin Jean. Together, they were blessed with a little girl. I was told that despite his love for his family, he still suffered from the nightmares of that war.
I was once told that you were quite the role model to the younger neighborhood boys in town. One man told me a few years ago, that he was about 10 when he met you as a teenager. He said that you were really tall. He described you as a very kind teen that took them to the movies and watched over them. He said that they looked up to you and he described you as a gentle giant.
I look at the blonde blue eyed little boy and the handsome soldier pictures that my mother always kept in her hope chest and I smile wistfully. How I wish I could have known you.
I do know that our grandfather was very proud of you. I read a letter he wrote to our mother asking her not to try to have any more children and to forget trying to have a daughter after she had a life-threatening miscarriage. He told her that she did her job and that she could be proud of the boys she had and that they would grow up to serve this country. All of the boys did enlist into the service except one, who did not pass the medical tests due to a medical condition.
Our mother was terrified when Dick went off to Vietnam. He understood and he wrote her just about every week. I was angry and afraid both, as I watched the television media coverage every night when I got home from school. I was terrified that I would see him on the television screen wounded or killed. He made it home to us. However, many years later he ended his life. He was too proud and he never asked for help or VA benefits. He felt the government did not owe him anything. He left a wife and two children behind.
I did not join the service. My mother and my brothers were all against
the day I announced that I thought I might. I have worked in a shipyard though, for almost 25 years. I was a shipfitter and now I am a designer. Currently, I am completing a combined degree in social work and media studies. Perhaps one day, I will create a documentary that will honor your memory.
I am also, a mother of two daughters and a son. I understand the importance of protecting our country but I also, have mixed feelings over all these wars. Our grandfather used to tell me when I was small, that `They respect you if you have the bi: est stick. You don't have to use it though and you don't want to if you don't have to. You just need to let them see it and they will respect it." He was talking about the need to have the best weapons and the greatest power. How I wish we would learn from the past and that we could all be better at living together as a world in peace.
I do pray for peace but most of all, I want to say thank you today to every soldier, every veteran of every war for the sacrifices that have been made for this country.
Malcolm, the pain of your loss, that often dimmed our mother's sparkling eyes that were as blue as the ripened Maine blueberries, will remain forever in my memory. Sadly, she only was able to travel to your gravesite on a few occasions due to financial hardships. She had the burden of raising five of us on her own. On those occasions that she made it to visit your gravesite, she would place a rose and sweet babies breath there in your loving memory. She gave money to others that visited Washington D: C to place flowers on your grave as well. One day, if God is willing, I will visit your gravesite and do the same.
Until that day, rest peacefully, my brother Malcolm. You are loved and missed by your remaining brothers who did know you and by a sister who always wished that she did have that opportunity.
To all those attending the services today, may peace and love be with you all. Reach out to one another and clasp a hand and share fond and loving memories with those present, as well as embrace hearts with those who write to their loved ones today. May God bless each and every one of you!
May God always bless America! Here, we can say that we are free and we owe that freedom to our veterans and the soldiers who currently, serve us today. Thank you, to each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. I ask you to please include a small prayer for me for my brother Malcolm as you pray for your own loved ones today. Thank you and I will pray for all of you and your loved ones today as well.
Malcolm's loving sister,
Kathleen Jean Farrar Carpenter
Letter 35 - Written By:
John Bluhm
October 24, 2006
To Sgt.Harold Cross
Hello again old buddy.First let me say I'm sorry you had to die that night, on the last day, the last hour of that war.We used to talk about what we were going to do after we got home, back with our love ones, that all ended with one artillery round to the bunker.As luck would have it the rest of us made it out ok. I got a small hit on the leg, the other medic was not hit.I tried my best to stop your bleeding and the guys in our company dug us out with no concern for there own safety.
I got in touch with your niece Anne and we still write to each other. She wanted to know what happened to her uncle. Your mother saved all the news paper clippings, you were quiet a celebrity, you were the last man to die during the Korean War.
I still keep in touch with a few of the old gang, Jack and I still write and Sgt. Mc Crimmon is in George. I remember the football games we had and the days we just sat and told stories about Cleveland and Detroit,the winters and snow.
We still fly the flag every day and you have a memorial Detroit and a street named after you. I will never forget that night Sarge, the people you new miss you and wish you were still here. The world is still a mess, we are still killing each other, nothing changes, I hope where you are you are at peace and sitting at the right hand of God he can use a good First Sargent.
Doc
Sgt. John Bluhm
5th Reg Combat Team K Co 3rd Platoon
Letter 36 - Written By:
Haunani
Dear Uncle Anthony,
It has been a lot of years since I last saw or heard from you. I am sitting here and thinking am I really talking to you.
I am now 67 and a mother of three sons and three daughters. I also have 18 grandkids and great grandkids.
In January my husband and I will celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary. Uncle Anthony I kept my promise to you I have never drank alcohol or smoked.
I have shared with my kids and grandkids about the best Christmas gift I ever got. You brought an old bike and brought it home redid it by painting it and getting tires for it and gave it to me for Christmas.
I thought I was the richest kid on the block. I mean I could ride my bike and not have to walk to Ala Moana Beach. Just the little things that made us kids feel good.
Uncle Anthony I pray that one day you will make your way back home to Hawaii. Thanks to Mr. Ray and Mr. Barker I am able to keep up with things that are happening to bring all of you home that are still in Korea.
I love you and always will to all of you made it home and to those who have not made it home yet THANK YOU FOR MY FREEDOM.
Till we meet again and share a hug God Bless,
Haunani
Letter 37 - Written By:
Imojean Steinbuch
Mason
OH
NOV. 03, 2006
IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY BROTHER STAFF SGT. JAMES K. SUTTON JR WHO DIED IN KOREA ON JULY 4, 1951.
JIMMY,
I WAS ONLY 12 WHEN WE GOT THE WORD THAT YOU WERE KILLED IN ACTION. WE WERE LIVING IN HIGHSPLINT, KY. OUR DAD WAS WORKING IN A COAL MINE AT HIGHSPLINT. SOON AS WE GOT THE TELEGRAM, MOM STARTED TO MAKE ARRANGEMENTS TO MOVE BACK TO OUR "OLD HOME PLACE" WHICH IS IN CLIO, KY. THEY DIDN'T SHIP YOU HOME UNTIL NOV. IT WAS SUCH A SAD TIME FOR ALL OF US. MOM WANTED TO BI TRY YOU AT THE RYANS CEMENTARY BUT CAROLYN PUT YOIJ AT "PINE HILL" IN CORBIN. I GO TO VISIT YOUR GRAVE EVERY MEMORIAL DAY AND PUT FLOWERS ON IT.
I AIVI MARRIED FOR THE 2ND TIME AND HAVE TWO CHILDREN, 3 GRAND CHILDREN AND 1 GREAT, GRANDCHILD. MY LIFE HAS BEEN AS GOOD AS ANY ONES I SUPPOSE. I AM A BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR. AND PRAISE GOD FOR THAT.
JIMMY, IT ALWAYS SEEMED LIKE YOU WOULD BE COMING HOME. I REMEMBER WHEN YOU LEFT. I LAY ON THE BED AND CRIED. I HAVE NEVER HAD CLOSURE FOR YOU. I GUESS IT IS BECAUSE YOUR CASKET WAS NOT OPEN WHERE I COULD SEE YOU. IT JUST ALWAYS SEEMS LIKE YOU WILL BE COMING HOME. FOR YEARS WHEN OUR MOM WAS ALIVE, WE WOULD LOOK FOR YOU THINKING EVERYTHING WAS A MISTAKE AND YOU WOULD BE COMING HOME ANY DAY. BUT THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN. YOU WROTE TO OUR MOM AND SAID YOU HAD BEEN PRAYING AND HAD FAITH IN OUR GOD. PRAISE THE LORD FOR THAT.
I WILL SEE YOU IN THE OTHER LIFE.
LOVINGLY YOUR SISTER,
IMOJEAN STEINBUCH
Letter 38 - Written By:
Ronda Griffith-Grubb
Columbus
OH
NOVEMBER 11, 2006
DEAR UNCLE RONALD:
YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN WITH ME EVEN THOUGH YOU DIED IN KOREA BEFORE I WAS BORN. YOU DIED ABOUT THE SAME TIME AS MY CONCEPTION, AND SO TO HONOR YOUR MEMORY, MY PARENTS (YOUR BROTHER, BERNIE-MY FATHER) DECIDED TO NAME THE UNBORN ME, "RONALD." OF COURSE, I FOOLED THEM AND I BECAME "RONDA LEE." SPELLED MORE LIKE RONALD THAN THE NORMALLY SPELLED "RHONDA WITH AN H." THE LEFTOVER "L" BECAME LEE, WHICH HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN TO MY DAUGHTERS, KARYN LEE AND REBECCA LEE.
ALTHOUGH ALMOST ALL FAMILY MEMBERS WHO KNEW YOU ARE NOW GONE AS WELL, YOU REMAIN ALIVE THROUGH MY NAME, THE NAME OF MY DAUGHTERS. I HAVE ONE LETTER FROM YOU TO MY PARENTS SHORTLY BEFORE YOU WERE KILLED THAT I INHERITED AFTER MY FATHER'S DEATH IN 1985. I WAS SURPRISED TO READ THAT YOU HAD BEEN WOUNDED AND THEN SENT BACK TO THE FIGHTING AFTER A STAY IN THE FIELD HOSPITAL. WE WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT WE LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR SACRIFICE IN KOREA BACK IN 1951 AS OTHERS DO.
A FEW YEARS AGO AT A WOMEN'S CHURCH GROUP MEETING, I MET A WOMAN FROM KOREA WHO IS NOW AN AMERICAN CITIZEN. I HAD NEVER SHARED YOUR STORY WITH THE FEW KOREANS I HAD MET (NOT KNOWING HOW THEY WOULD REACT), BUT THIS TIME I DID. SHE CRIED, HUGGED ME, AND THANKED ME FOR TELLING HER. HER REACTION MADE ME RETHINK THE POSSIBILIITY OF WAR NOT ALWAYS BEING BAD.
AGAIN, UNCLE RONALD, THANK YOU FOR YOUR SACRIFICE FOR ALL OF US, AND THANK YOU FOR MY NAME.
LOVE,
YOUR NIECE, RONDA LEE GRIFFITH-GRUBB
Letter 39 - Written By:
Harold C. Holmes
Bozeman
MT
November 3, 2005
Dear Sirs:
I left the following letter to my father 1st LT Harold Ray Holmes, US Air Force, at the only Memorial with his name on it. At the foot of the walls of the Punch Bowl, Honolulu, Hawaii. My wife and two son's made this trip in December 2001. My father was listed as missing in action. Because his body was never recovered and since there was no internment, his name does not appear on any other memorial in the United States.
My father was a copilot of a B-39 on a bombing raid over North Korea. There was one survivor from this mission. All other personnel, ten men, were lost. Currently, North Korea's leader refuses to allow recovery efforts. My father's plane was shot down June 10, 1952 six weeks before I was born. My mother was left with two war orphans and the feeble efforts of our military leaders to help her financially, mentally, or to help her understand why.
December 2001
Dear Dad,
To a Father I never knew. To a Man I wanted to meet. To a Dad I needed to love. I've come to show you who I am and show off my family. To show my family how proud I am of you. I come to say Hi.
After forty-nine years I've finally come to say goodbye. Years that account for my life. Time gone of the distance between us. The years haven't been easy but they haven't been too hard. The sacrifices you made helped to make me what I am. Made my life better. Made me who I am. I know my life was changed because of what you gave up for us and for our country.
I wish we could of done some years together. I hope you are happy with what I have accomplished.
I've come to honor you
I've come to say thank you.
---
I'm happy to report that just recently October 19, 2006, we gathered as a family and friends for a Memorial service for my father. This occurred at Arlington National Cemetery with all military honors. Finally, we have a grave marker. Although, we still do not have a body this service brought tremendous closure to me and my family.
Sincerely,
Harold C. Holmes
Letter 40 - Written By:
Patricia A. Robbins
Bonnerdale
AR
Corporal Boyd E. Tucker
01 November 2006
Dear Boyd,
As I attempt to write you this letter to be read at the Memorial Service on Veteran's Day, 2006, to honor you for your service in the Korean War, I have many mixed emotions. Who would have ever thought that 56 years ago when you were killed and I, your little sister who was 8 years old then, would be writing this letter to you today.
Boyd, you were 18 years old when I was born and were already making your own way in the world. My memories of you are few and very vague. When you were serving in the Army at Camp Carson, CO, during the year of 1949, I remember being rather awed by you when you came home on leave wearing your Military Uniform. The only photo I have of the two of us together was taken during that time and I cherish it so much. I was 7 years old then.
You seemed to be destined to be in the Military, because when you were discharged on 23 January 1950, you re-enlisted in the Army on 17 February 1950. When you were sent to Ft. Riley, Kansas on the following day, how could we know when you left that we would never see you again. We don't know very much about the time when you were sent to Camp Stoneman, California and then on to Japan.
You were in Camp Hakata, Japan when the Korean War started. Your Unit, the 63rd FABN were the first ground troops to be sent to Korea. You wrote a letter home shortly before you left for Korea, but, after you got there, we received no more communication from you. When the telegram came stating that you were MIA on 14 July 1950, our family was devastated. It was especially horrific
for my older brothers and sisters who were close to your age and had grown up with you. I believe that as a small child, my coping ability was simply to blockanything bad and unpleasant from my mind. I look back now and know that I did it very well, because I have few memories of that time in my life.
I do remember that the house we lived in on Boaz St. in Hot Springs, AR, had a back porch with tall steps leading up to it. I found my Mother there many times just sitting alone and sobbing her heart out for you. I didn't know how to help her, so I would just sit down beside her, put my arm through hers and lean my head on her. We never said a word, just sat there and cried.
Inevitably, the telegram came informing us that your body had been recovered and positively identified. There were dark days at the Tucker house following receipt of that telegram. I remember my Daddy meeting the train to claim your body, the planning of the funeral and finally the funeral itself on 6 May 1954. As a small child, I had never been to many funerals, especially a Military one. I was scared when they gave the Gun Salute. We buried your earthly body that day and tried to continue on with life. However, our family was broken now, never to be mended, for a vital piece was missing.
I always felt that I was robbed of growing up with you, big brother. I used to make up stories in my mind that you weren't really gone, that you would come back and make our family whole again. I could see you coming through the door and see how happy we would all be. In my child's mind,
I thought, after all, you could have been captured or been hurt and had amnesia for a while or someone changed Dog Tags with you. The War Department just made a mistake. A million things could have happened. I wanted so badly to make our family whole again. I re-played it over and over in my mind, but it was all just a little girl's fantasy.
I grew up and married a wonderful man and had four children, 2 girls and 2 boys. God chose to take
our second little girl home with Him shortly after she was born. She lived for just 2 hours and my love for her and the loss I feel is overwhelming. Only then did I have a glimpse of the pain and suffering that my parents went through when they lost a child they had known and loved for 25 years. When my sons were around 25 years old, I would look at them and think that you were just their age when you died. How young! I have six grandchildren now, 5 boys and 1 girl. My oldest grandson is 24 years old and he and his wife have given me a precious great-grandson. Can you believe that? Boyd, I wish you could know all of them, you would love them too.
I talk about you often to keep your memory alive so that you will never be forgotten. I have been gathering information about your Military Service and your death on that far-away foreign soil. God has led me to Mr. James Bolt, who was with you that day. He has told me about the Kum River Battle that took your life on 14 July 1950 and the circumstances of your death. He has been such a wonderful blessing and has helped our family so much.
I can't help but wonder what life would have been like for our family if you had come back from the War. Your death had such a profound effect on each member of our family. I ask myself, what would you look like now? Would you be married with a family? How many children would you have? What kind of work would you do? Where would you be living? The questions go on and on.
Mother and Daddy have passed on now, as well as our brothers Loyd, James and Clovis. Our little brother Mike is the only brother left. Our sisters Pauline, Wilma, Lucille and Betty and myself
all try to stay in touch. They have so many memories of growing up with you and I have so few that I have asked them questions after questions about you. Their answers give me some insight as to what you were like during those years.
Boyd, I will close this letter by saying that your family loves and misses you very much. We will never forget you. I pray that you are safe in God's loving arms til we meet again.
I love you brother!
Your sister,
Pat
Pat A. (Tucker) Robbins
Letter 41 - Written By:
Pat J. Carbone
Tewksbury
MA
October 24, 2006
On the night of June 13 1953 on the hill named OUT POST HARRY two young men from Co. C. 10th Engr Combat Bn. 3rd Inf. Div.were K.I.A. I was thier platoon Sgt.
It was I that sent them out on that night too help install some anti -personal devices.
I carried this burden of guilt for many years. Thanks for the internet I have been able to contact some of the family of both of these fine young men. I have contacted the younger
brother of Pvt.Robert Welch from West Virginia and explained to him the actual events of that night on the Out Post.
Roberts brother Charles Welch and I are now like brothers.
Then a grand child of Raymond Oconnor from Michigan made an inquiry for information about how her Granddad died in Korea. All she knew is that her Grandmother
told her that he died in Korea.
I was able to E-mail her someof the details of his death. Although these contacts have provided me with some relief I will never forget the the great loss these families have suffered, and will always keep them in my prayers.
Respectfully,
Pat J. Carbone
Letter 42 - Written By:
Mr. and Mrs. Leo Yelle
St. Augustine
FL
Dear Leo,
Our Beloved Brother,
Today on Veteran's Day 2006 your brothers, Adrien and Raymond Yelle and the family remember you with much love and pride. Its been 56 years since we received word that you were Missing In Action on November 2, 1950.
A hard fought battle against overwhelming numbers, creating one of the Army's largest loss of life took place in Unsan, North Korea. Being with the 2nd Chemical Mortar Battalion, Company B. 3rd Platoon with the Eighth U.S. Army when the Chinese in unimaginable numbers overran your platoon. You were among the many listed as KIA and MIA with only a few taken prisoner. This battle was one of the bloodiest battles of the war. Through much searching for information about the actual movements of your Battalion, from the time you left the states to when you arrived in Korea and the events leading up to when you became MIA, we were able to follow in your footsteps, our beloved brother.
We have since notified the Army Casualty Office that you have two living brothers, Adrien Francois 79 years old and Raymond Robert 72 who has given a DNA sample for when your remains are found. We have also contacted some remaining members of your Battalion and keep in close touch with the Red Dragon members. Your fellow soldiers and your family members have dedicated a memorial monument in Maryland in your honor and those of your fallen comrades. Your brother Raymond
has been to Washington DC and seen the Korean War Veterans Memorial that your country dedicated to all Korean War Veterans. Also in the Pacific your name is displayed at the Korean War Tablets of the Missing.
Mom always said that one day you would come home. We are saddened by her passing, Mom who passed away in June 1981 and Dad in October 1989 will not be here on the day of your return, but we are comforted knowing that you have already joined them in a better place. We have made arrangements for your remains when returned to your family to be buried at St. Cecelias Cemetery in Leominster, MA beside Mom and Dad.
Your eldest brother Adrien retired with 20 years from the United States Navy in September 1969 as did his son Leo Bernard Yelle, who was named after you. He also retired with 20 years service from the United States Navy. Younger brother Robert entered the Navy after you became MIA.
It is our greatest wish that your remains will be returned and be brought home before we - your brothers pass away. We think of you often and will never give up our search for you.
We honor you our brother, Son and uncle on this day, for unselfishly paying the ultimate sacrifice for your country.
With Love Always,
Your brothers Adrien and Raymond and the Yelle Family
Letter 43 - Written By:
Thomas A. Knapp
October 24, 2006
I served as a cadre in the Korean War training many men, most of which saw combat. So many I cannot name just one nor do I know how many never returned.
As I was spared marriage became possible with a childhood sweetheart that produced four children, eight grandchildren & soon one great grandchild.
I lived to survive and become a useful citizen serving in the US Foreign Commercial Service some of which was in Eastern Europe fighting the new threat of Communism.
We enjoy a happy retirement made possible by those who served in Korea, alive or dead. I recall many of your faces and know well what you were forced to face at such a young age.
Some men & women are called on to give more in one generation than another, this country owes you a debt that can never be paid.
The torn bodies & minds of many will last their lifetimes. I respect those who served in Korea & am relieved to know that I did not have to.
Thomas A. Knapp
6th Armored Div. Combat Corp. of Engineers
Oct 30, 1952 to Oct. 31, 1954
Letter 44 - Written By:
Joseph W. Herber
October 24, 2006
Hi,
To all my brothers from that frozen land . I remember the cold night that just seem to go on forever,darkness that is so black that it could be death and you dont know it.
Land so HOT that Hell might be a vaction,and rain so hard it must wash all of the dirt and stains from our souls.
Wind so brisk it would peel the skin off your face.
Even with all the bad things its a place where we all were brothers , which we will always remain,now and
forever.....
I salute you all,..sleep in peace.
Joseph W Herber USAR [ret]
Letter 45 - Written By:
Kristina Quest
Johnson Creek
WI
October 24, 2006
Dad, you were one of the only men that made it out alive in your 32nd Regt. 7th Division Platoon at the early part of the Korean War.
Your buddy in the war tried to surrender after he put his arms up but got shot anyway. You seen everyone in your division get killed. I am so glad you stayed alive in the rice paddy water with your nose and mouth at the top of the water level to stay alive to father me later after you married my Japanese mom, Kiwa, Sept. 10, 1951.
I being the oldest of the four children am very proud of you in all you suffered from that war. I forgive you for beating us up while you were trying to forget the war. I forgive you for beating up mom in the middle of the night when you were dreaming of being in the war again and you gave mom
a large black and blue bruise on her thigh and broke her jaw.
I am glad you had some good times and taught me how to fish. I am glad Grandma wrote to the President of the United States (Truman at that time) permission to marry mom. I am glad you failed the test to be body guard for General McArthur on purpose because you were in love with mom at the Company B barracks during the Occupation in Japan.
Tell everyone at the remembrance today that we have many pictures of men who served in that part of history while the US Army was starting our democratic government in Japan.
Daughter, age 54, half Japanese and half German American, of Duane Tessman who got shot twice, once in the arm and once in the leg. I lived a Christian life and go to church weekly and honor those that fought in the war for my freedom.
Kristina Quest
Johnson Creek, WI 53038 920-699-8533
Letter 46 - Written By:
Joanne Swearingen Chmura
Subject: Letter to my Father./ for Korean War Project/ Veterans Day .
To My Father: Cpl. George L. Swearingen
KIA Korea, Feb.22, 1951
Dear Dad;
In February of 2007, it will be 56 years since your death. I and my children and grandchildren want you to know that we will never forget you and the ultimate sacrifice that you made for your country.
We have your pictures, obituary, and a letter that explained the conditions at the time of your death. I have a flag flying in your memory, and have been fortunate enough to receive the Korean War Service Medal, and am about to receive a Gold Star Banner. I have your dog tag that was returned with your body .It is my most prized possession.
I have researched and been in contact with some wonderful men who also served in Korea and was willing to help me in my quest to find out more about you and the Korean War.
Even though I was not quite 5 when you were buried, I want you to know that I remember your funeral. I REMEMBER the guns being so loud, and the shell casings being handed to us. I REMEMBER the adults crying when Taps was played. I REMEMBER the flag being handed to my Mother.
I'm sorry, and angry that you did not get a chance to know me or your Granddaughter and Grandson, or your three beautiful, Great Granddaughters. But they all know you. I will be your voice and keep your memory alive. Rest in Peace , and know that there are many people who will never forget you and all of the others that served and gave their life in Korea.
Your Loving Daughter;
Joanne Swearingen Chmura
Letter 47 - Written By:
Warren Murray
October 24, 2006
Letters to the Lost
In January 1953 I met Perry. He had just arrived, as a replacement, in the First 4.5 Rocket Battery, First Marine Division. Perry Braden was from Elizabethtown, Kentucky. I was from the Bronx in New York City. We, outside of being Marines, had nothing in common. We became fast friends. He would tell me about Harlin County Kentucky and I would try to explain growing up playing on asphalt.
On May 11, 1953, Mother’s Day, Perry was killed. I was standing next to him. I lived he died. Rockets were a mobile outfit We would come up to a fixed position just behind the MRL. We fired, mostly H&I missions. We would let loose a “ripple” of 144 rockets within two minutes. Ask any one who was there, the results were devastating. One hundred forty four rounds landing in an area the size of a football field within that time frame. That night one of the rounds coming out the tube blew up. Perry and another kid were killed eight or nine of us were wounded. After we got back to our area I tried to cry for Perry but could not. I felt bad but could not express myself. I have now reached a point in my life where I can shed tears and I do for my lost friend.
Over the years I have had a Mass said for Perry every year as close to May 11th as possible, A few years ago through the Korean war Project I got to meet his family. His brother, his sister and a nephew and niece. I visited his grace. I am an old man now but as long as I live I will never forget my friend Perry Braden..
Letter 48 - Written By:
Doug Froling
Seattle
WA
October 24, 2006
REMEMBERING:
HOMER JAMES LANDERS , PFC, USMC FEBRUARY 11, 1931 - MAY 29,1951
KIA YANGU, KOREA
HI JIM, It's Veterans Day 2006, and I'm writing to let you know that although the damn war that took your life is sometimes called the forgotten war, we will never forget you, and the others that didn't make it back home.
For the past 6 years about 20 of us from our old high school have met monthly at the Yardarm Pub in Des Moines WA to swap lies and sea stories. For a long time this group of misfits couldn't agree on a group name. Finally, I made a list of those attending, and used the title - QUEEN ANNE High School KOREAN WAR VETS., and it stuck.
The Marines are well represented by 10 guys, including Jim Burton who enlisted with you. Other Marines you would know are your ex-neighbor Dale Keller, John Zirckel, and Bob Waitt.
Like you, some of us are still'car nuts'. Recently I was showing some old pre-war pictures of my 1929 Ford hotrod roadster. Burton said that I still owed you and him some money for it!! Only when I found an old bill of sale dated March 1, 1950 that he signed - did he shut up.
Speaking of cars, you would have loved the 1969 Mercury Convertible that I drove for 34 years, and kept in showroom condition. Several times I put the top down and loaded it with our Veteran pals - Ron Selset, Jim Burton, John Zirckel, John Lazzar - so we could drive in the local summer Seafare Parade. What Fun we had!!
Alden VanCampen also brought his chopped 1934 Ford coupe one year for all to admire.
Well old friend, that’s enough for today. I’ll be saluting you again next Memorial Day, as I always do.
Doug
Doug Froling, Seattle. Navy Air Veteran Korean War, 1950-1954.
http://www.navyhu-1.org
Letter 49 - Written By:
Whitt Fisher
October 25, 2006
To my uncle Douglas
To me, you were part of my family’s mythology. I learned only that you had vanished during the war while defending your men. There was never word from the government regarding your fate, and so your parents and your sister began the long, sad period of waiting, hoping, and fearing.
When I asked questions as a child, I was finally told of someone else in this myth. A young American-born Japanese woman named Grace Iijima, who wrote your mother after you disappeared, asking if she could visit to pay her respects. This being 1951 in Kentucky, so soon after the Second World War, it was not necessarily a safe trip for her to make and she had no idea if she’d be welcomed or reviled.
The truth was somewhere in between, and she was met cordially but with unease. The specter of miscegenation was anathema to a good Southern family, and yet there she was bearing a portrait of you, painted from a photo by a famed Japanese artisan, and an exquisite silver bracelet for your younger sister, my mother. Clearly there was a level of connection that was very deep, and as you had a fiancé when you left for Japan, her appearance brought up questions that no one dared ask. She knew this, and she played the game. Grace attended church with your family. She expressed her great respect for you in the most civil and proper manner. No one had the courage to ask anything more, and she left.
Your mother and your father died still wondering if you had been imprisoned and might somehow still be alive. A few of your fellow officers had cryptically expressed doubts that you were, but only clandestinely and with an obvious fear of official reprimand for discussing the matter with your family. Parents being what they are, your mother remained uncertain, or perhaps unwilling to believe you were really dead.
And that myth, those tales, were all I knew of you, aside from that photo of the handsome blonde soldier. Little was mentioned of the subject, and the impression given to me as a child was that the issue was at rest. Until a few years ago.
At that time, I found a list on my mother’s desk of men killed in action in Korea. Though she hadn’t said anything, I realized she was still looking for you, still trying to find answers, still worried. And so I decided to help.
Through the Korean War Project I was able to reach Larry Powers, who confirmed what your friends had tried to tell your parents so long ago: you had been killed on the day you disappeared, and your body had been spotted in a mass grave in territory that was subsequently lost and recaptured several times, obscuring your resting place. He sent us a photo of you at a party with him, convincing us that you had indeed known him at Camp Wood.
The information had been there all along, but the government had been unable to tell us what I discovered with a few days of work on the internet. It was hard to believe, but there it was.
Your sister and your brother were both saddened and relieved to hear the news that you had died soon after your disappearance and had not been captured, tortured, or locked away for years on end. But of course, the news brought back old pain and memories, and some of them invited investigation.
I thought often of the young Japanese woman who had come to far and to such a difficult environment to pay her respects to your family. She had cared. She would have wanted to know what we had discovered – and so, we looked for her. Through hard work and some strokes of luck, we found her living only a few miles from us in Manhattan.
(I say ‘strokes of luck,’ but in fact it was her accomplishments at the UN that made it possible to find her. Had she been a less exceptional person, the search might have been fruitless.)
Before involving the rest of your family, I met with her personally to make sure that she was someone who wouldn’t bring invective or cruelty to your sister and brother. I had no idea what type of person she really was. But when I met her, I realized there was no need for me to be concerned.
Clearly intelligent and accomplished, she described you with intimate detail. How you introduced yourself to her at a dance at Camp Wood. How you and she traveled through Japan together. How when you were sent to Korea, you wrote telling her how cold it was, and she arranged with great effort to have long underwear sent to you from an Abercrombie and Fitch outpost in South America. And how, when you vanished, his friends gave some of your effects to her. Without my asking, she denied a romantic relationship. I didn’t believe her, and I only wish I had told her then that there was no need to keep secrets from us – anyone who was kind to you during that terrible time was a blessing to our family, not an embarrassment. It pained me to learn she had never married, and I began to develop a sinking feeling that your disappearance had broken her heart more deeply than any of us could have imagined.
I told her what we’d learned, and I think she felt some relief to know you hadn’t been tormented as a prisoner. She told me she’d had dreams of you calling out to her for years after you vanished. I began to think of this poor lonely young woman, her heart broken, wondering if you were alive and suffering somewhere where she couldn’t reach you and how she had no one to talk to, not even his family, because it would have been too much of a scandal in those days. How many years did she spend with that immense, quiet grief never marrying, always wondering.
We met one more time with your sister, and Grace saw the portrait of you she’d had made 50 years ago. She asked for your photo, and we had a copy made from her. We tried to stay in touch, but she kept her distance.
After her death, her friends approached us and told me what I had already guessed– that she was deeply in love with you, and you with her. She couldn’t or wouldn’t tell us this while she was alive, for whatever reasons.
And so, the myths about you changed but they were more poignant than ever. And now, though I’ve never met you, my feelings for you and Grace are much stronger than they are for other relatives I’ve seen just a few years ago.
I suppose it is a human vanity to ‘fill in the gaps’ in such a story, and a conceit to think I really knew either of you. With the information I have, a million different accounts could still fit the same facts. When I think about how things might have been different if you’d survived, I try to keep my sentiments in check.
Perhaps you weren’t really in love with her. Perhaps if you’d lived, you’d be another one of those relatives I’m cordial to a few times a year, but not really friendly with. Perhaps you’d want nothing to do with me because of my personal life. Perhaps all this feeling I have for you and that poor woman comes from a self-indulgent romantic fantasy that had little to do with reality at all.
Perhaps. But given the choice, I prefer to believe a different connection between the facts. Maybe you did love her, deeply. Maybe if you’d lived, you might have come to New York with Grace. We might be close. I might have come to you for advice. I might have cousins that I love dearly. You might have been a joy and a blessing to all of us if that damn war hadn’t taken you, and broken so many hearts.
And so, though I don’t deserve to say it, I will: I love you. I miss you. I wish, how I wish I could have helped you. Helped you both, helped you all.
With love,
Whit
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