Veteran's Day

Sitting on top of my entertainment center there is folded U.S. flag in a wooden display case. Next to it sits a 5x7 black and white photograph of my grandpa proudly posing in his Army uniform. He looks so very young - too young considering that within months after the photograph was taken he was sent overseas to Korea. All of my life I've known my grandpa fought in the Korean War. Never did an opportunity to tell people of my grandpa's service to this country slip past me, even if I didn't fully understand what his service entailed. It was something he didn't talk about and something I never asked about.

Over the past few years I've learned more and more about the Korean War, more due to school and personal curiosity than talking to my grandpa. It truly is the Forgotten War, stuck between the gloriously remembered World War II and the disgracefully remembered Vietnam War. Our government called the Korean War a "police action," not a war. 35,000 deaths and 104,000 injuries later the WAR ended in a stalemate. While some would consider that a draw, the U.S. completed exactly what it said it would do - contain Communism; prevent it from spreading into South Korea. There was no finite ending and no ticker tape parade. The men returned home and were "forgotten."

I never talked about the war with my grandpa. If he didn't talk about it, there was a reason. In a life of 75 years, 3 years in the Army may have just been a blip on his radar. I know his service didn't consume his life. It was his duty, he did it, and he returned home to his family and moved on with life. As much as I'd like to think that my grandpa was not defined by the experiences of war, he DID experience war. He served this country at a time when the threat of Communist dominoes tumbling across countries and over oceans and consuming America was very real.

It wasn't until I was too late that I had a million questions for my grandpa. But his mind was too tired and his heart was too lonely for me to question him about things. The day that he died we opened a briefcase of his to find some unit patches, pins, service ribbons and his dog tags - a Sergeant, a tank mechanic, a young man identified by stainless steel in case of disaster. He may never have talked about it, but it meant something to him. For 55 years he was a veteran - I never thanked him for that.

Thank you, Grandpa. You will NEVER be forgotten.