June,
1950, North Korean soldiers poured across the 38th parallel, the
arbitrary dividing line between North and South Korea. By the time they
stopped they had smashed through the South Korean capital of Seoul and
had the NATO and South Korean troops bottled up at Pusan, in the
southern part of South Korea.
In
March of 1952, my father, Marty’sHusband Senior, sailed across the Sea
of Japan and made his way up the South Korean peninsula to the front
lines just north of Seoul. My dad was a forward observer directing fire
for the army artillery. His trip to the front took days, the months he
spent in the holes, trenches and bunkers must have felt like years.
This is a re post of a blog I wrote in May of 2011. Since that time my father, the dude to the right here, has served as President of the National Korean War Veterans Association. He is about to serve his second term. I am proud of my Dad and everything he has done for his family.....and his country. Happy Memorial Day Pops.
At
the end of April 2011 I had the privilege of accompanying my father to
Austin, Texas so the state senate could recognize and honor veterans,
heroes of the Korean War. I stood in the Lt. Governor’s reception hall
and ate breakfast with these men, these heroes of a war no one remembers
and I was honored to be in their presence and proud that my father was a
member of this brave and aging group.
My Dad, like so many soldiers, never really talked much about his experience in the war. I think he was so busy taking care of his family and his job that he didn’t have the time or bandwidth to remember what a life changing event the war had been for him. He very successfully managed to compartmentalize his memories until he retired and became involved with his own band of brothers.
As
we toured through South Korea I listened. I listened to my dad as he
related to these heroes of a war that has too often been relegated to a
somewhat erstwhile conflict instead of the awful, frightening bloody
mass of men and women dying and being maimed. They all marveled at how
Seoul had recovered and they talked about how this modern city of eight
million was nothing but ruble when they had last marched through the
city.
I
listened as these old soldiers talked and enjoyed each other’s stories
and company as they relived a time in their lives that will always
separate them from those of us who have been spared the worst of war. I
watched as they looked at maps and pointed to where they had been
stationed, I marveled at how my own father, a warrior in a real war,
looked for familiar spots and I felt pride as I watched him, along with
the other veterans, accept an honorary medal from the South Korean army.
It was one of those moments that expanded my view and understanding of
my own father.
In
the Texas Senate gallery I sat with my dad and his compatriots. When
the time came for the proclamation recognizing the Korean War veterans
several Senators spoke. In turn they each recognized the men surrounding
me. Some read names, some spoke of the cold, the heat, the Chinese, the
Chosin Reservoir, Pork Chop Hill, and Inchon. Finally they asked for
the veterans to stand and finally they applauded, and applauded, and
applauded. I felt a great sense of pride as I sat among these very
ordinary men who had served their country in an extraordinary way.
As my father and I drove back to Waco from Austin we talked, or rather he talked the whole way home. I asked the questions I’ve always wanted to know and he told me about his journey to war and his time at war and for the first time, his feelings about what he had experienced. I drove up to my house feeling fortunate to have spent this day with this man.
As we drove into the driveway of my home I said I thought it was really nice for the Senate to recognize you guys. My dad said, “Yes, they didn’t have to do that, but it sure is nice.” I’ve always been proud to be his son.
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