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 Korea, 1952

     I finally convinced the Western Union man to release the telegram to me instead of my parents.  I had already decided that it was bad news concerning my youngest brother, Bob.  He was a rifleman in Korea, involved in the First Marine Division's savage battle for Bunker Hill, a strange location.

     I knew the message could be only one of three things -- he'd been killed, wounded, or was missing.  I prayed for a shred of hope, for one of the latter possibilities.  But my young, handsome brother was dead  My only solace was that he died for his country, doing what he had chosen to do.  According to his commanding offficer, he died quickly and painlessly. 

     This story has been repeated thousands of times, a result of our many wars.  What makes it unique are the experiences my dad and I went through as a result.

     My dad was serving in the Army when his son died in Korea.  Although a Provost Sergeant in Trieste, Yugoslavia (August 1952), he had served a tour of duty as an escort for many servicemen's remains.  He asked and was granted permission to escort his son to his final resting place at Fort Snelling National Cemetery.

     It wasn't something every father would have handled well, but ours was a military family;  we lived daily with the possibility of death. 

     Father and departed son rode the train together from San Francisco.  I believe the ride was Dad's opportunity to meditate and grieve.  It must have been, because he was solid as a rock when he joined his family in St. Paul.  His strength and peace pulled us through the most traumatic experience of our lives. 

     Strangely, the emotional intensity of Bob's death and funeral didn't fully surface until 40 years later.  An old friend told me that Bob's name was etched in gold into the black granite walls of the Ramsey County Courthouse, among the names of all Ramsey County men who had died in U.S. battles.

     At first, visions of Washington's Vietnam Memorial and knowledge of it's profound emotional power kept me away.

     After 40 years, I did not want to permanently loose emotions that already slipped from the recesses of my mind to haunt me each Christmas.

     That black wall must be magnetized;  I couldn't stay away!  Yet, I wondered how I would behave if I did go?  Pride and curiosity prevailed.  Alone, I slowly climed the stairway to the third floor, where in the marble walls were etched the names of those who had died in Korea.

     His name shown like light intself.  ROBERT EVERETT STAFFORD was carved in bright gold on shining black stone.

     I felt the past pulling me back those 40 years.  This time, the tears were not of pain or sorrow.  Instead, I cried because I was proud of my brother's courage -- and pleased that society had chosen to remember him.

- Dick Stafford                                             

  Sgt. Edward Oden King (Eddie)

     Sgt. Edward Oden King, (Eddie) graduated from Oklahoma State University in the early 1960's.  He majored in business and minored in photography.  Early on, he decided that he was needed in the military and would get that over first, before starting a business.  He found that the USAF was badly in need of combat photographers, so away he went.

     He took pictures of things that no human should have to see.  I know, being his brother, I saw some.  He served with great honor and determination, but never recovered from wounds both mental and physical recieved there doing his duty.

     This Memorial Day he will be remembered by all of his friends and family, not only for serving with valor and honor, but being ready to help anyone at any time, if he was able, and he did so much of the time.

- Anonymous

 Vietnam,  Roger R. Gund

     Roger was a Marine who fought in Vietnam and was awarded the Purple Heart for his physical wounds.  His fight is over now and he rests with his brothers in arms.

Semper Fi, Bro!

- Anonymous

Fallen Hero

You carried me on your shoulders

when my little legs were weak.

You taught my how to swing a bat,

took me fishing in the creek.

And any time that I was scared

you'd hold me in your arms,

I never had a single doubt,

you'd keep me safe from harm.

You were my biggest hero,

you taught me right from wrong.

I never once heard you complain

when I'd ask to tag along.

I never thought I'd see the day

when I'd not be by your side,

but the Army took you far away,

leaving me at home to cry.

I loved it when you wrote to me,

it helped to ease my pain,

I wished the time would hurry

so that you'd be home again.

Today mom called me to her room,

her voice shook as she cried,

"I don't know how to tell you,

but my son, your brother died.

He was going through a battle zone,

an enemy threw a grenade;

He never even stopped to think

for he had his men to save."

I screamed and ran outside

"Please God let me die!"

I wanted just to be with you,

I prayed this was a lie.

Then a voice came softly,

I heard the words so clear,

"Little brother I'll never leave you,

I'll always be right here.

I had an important job to do

and in dying I saved many lives.

I'll see you before you know it

in that Heaven beyond the skies.

But now you must be strong,

for you have a life to live.

I taught you how to be a man

and you have so much to give."

I felt such peace come over me

for I knew those words were true.

My brother is still my hero

for he did what he had to do.

By Forest Phelps-Cook

- Anonymous

American Servicemember

     I love you all.  You are what makes my life worth living.  You make me so proud,  yet I'm left feeling so inadequate as no small achievement I will ever make, on any given day, can ever compare.  You have given me more than I can ever give you.  

     So, I humbley give you my love and appreciation and want you to know how very special you are and while accepting that I'll never have the privilage of knowing you personally, my love for you is here always as yours has been for me.

- Anonymous