Korean
Veteran
Veteran’s
Day is upon us. This day we honor and
celebrate all those who served in the military to defend our country. No one can imagine what horrific experience
they had and how it affected the rest of their lives. Some were volunteers and some were drafted. My Dad was drafted to serve in the Korean
conflict. He was only 21 years old and
newly married in February 1953 when he was sent to Camp Stoneman in Pittsburg,
California as part of the 7th Infantry Division, Men of the “Bayonet”. He was a country boy who was raised on a tenant
dairy farm in Jefferson City in East Tennessee.
I have a Camp Stoneman postcard sent to my mother from my dad postmarked
1953 along with the locket he sent her from there. It is in a frame now on my shelf. The tiny black/white photos of him and her
that she so carefully placed in the little locket are so precious to me. They went on to spend 73 years of married
life together.
He had not
seen any of the world, yet he was boarding a boat to take him on a several-week
journey to Korea, arriving overseas in September 1953. I’m sure he was scared and no doubt he was seasick,
as well as homesick. He was stationed at
38th Parallel, Chuncheon, Korea, and ultimately spent approximately 2
years there and thankfully returned home safely. When I was growing up, he didn’t talk too
much about war. I know only a few
stories about his time there. He has a
multitude of black/white photos taken while there. He always referenced how incredibly cold the
winters were and how the rats would get down in their sleeping bags with
them. He began his interest in weightlifting
while serving which turned into a career for him. He and his buddies fabricated a bench press
by attaching cinderblocks to the ends of a steel bar. I do have photos to prove it. He said our mother wrote to him every single day.
My dad spoke
of how he hated to be the watchguard at night and how afraid he was of falling
asleep on his post. The fear was that if
he fell asleep, a North Korean soldier could come up behind him with a wire and
cut his throat. He told us about the
Korean orphaned children and the stray dog that his troop adopted. The children would beg the US soldiers for gifts
by singing: “Cigaretto, chocolecto, chewing gum presento me. Have no mamason. Have no papason. Chop, Chop, please give to me”. At least, that is the song my dad would sing
for us. He also told of the terror of
being in a foxhole with shots being fired over his head. At some point, he was given the job of radio operator
with the 32nd Regiment’s Heavy Mortar Company. He is currently 93 with dementia but still
calls out his radio jargon daily: “Able, Baker, one, five, Willie, X-ray”. He taught me and my sister many Japanese words
that we never knew the translation for all these years later. In turn, I passed along to my children these
Japanese nonsense words.
I wonder
sometimes what my father would have been like had he not served in the US
Army. I don’t think he would be the same
man that he is today. Although tough, I
know the experiences he had there were valuable ones in shaping his character. I won’t say he got out without some PTSD, but
he mostly chose not to speak about it. He
answered the call to duty in service to our country and I am very proud of him. In 2012, he was able to participate in the HonorAir
Knoxville which took him on a trip to Washington DC to tour the memorials. The Korean Memorial was dedicated in 1995 and
before that there was really no public recognition for Korean veterans. A big thank you to all who serve because we
know that freedom is not free. Happy
Veteran’s Day.
Tammy
Harvey 10/30/2025
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