National convention, october 2-5, 2005, in bossier - Korean War ...

THE SHOES OF A KOREAN VET
By Jack D. Ross, 418 Mills Street, Sandusky OH 44870.
It was fifty years ago in a place far away
but the memories remain and surface each day
of the mission of our platoon, to defend a barren hill
from the North Korean soldiers and it was kill or be killed
with artillery and machine guns carbines and men
you fight off the enemy again and again
you defend the damn mountain till the objective was met
you’re walking in the shoes of a Korean vet
there are medics shooting morphine into a wounded man’s vein
to silence the cry and lessen the pain
the stench of bodies, the unforgettable smell
makes your whole body tremble and you’re scared as hell
a good friend you seek out, but he was in the wrong place
for now an olive drab blanket is covering his face
you look to the heavens and quietly pray
but your prayers go unanswered day after day
the chaplain is busy helping carry the injured men
to the helicopter landing where fighting had been
you recall when it ended, we’ve all held our ground
and it’s time to go home and there’s hardly a sound
if you often wonder is this as bad as it gets
you’re walking in the shoes of a Korean vet
you were among the lucky, back on American soil
but what you’ve been thru still makes your blood boil
all this has turned you into an angry young man
who committed legalized murder with blood on his hands
you don’t want to look at people passing by
just want to be alone and you’re too proud to cry
there are times when you think you’d be better off dead
and visions of suicide rush thru your head
and you tell yourself that time heals all wounds
after all these years you know it’s not going away soon
you don’t watch war movies in the theater or on t. v.
cause you know it could trigger another of these
heartbreaking memories that you’re trying to forget
then you’re walking in the shoes of a Korean vet
there are more wars a coming, and I’m too old to fight
but when I look at our great banner, it’s stars and it’s stripes
it sends shivers thru my body, and I know right then
for liberty and freedom, I’d do it all over again.
Hold Onto
That Beer
On July 6, 1952, the weather was hot
and muggy. At sunset, the Chinese
again attacked Charlie Battery of the 17 F
AB.
Section One was called upon to return
counter-battery. The gun immediately came
under direct fire from the Chinese guns. A
volley landed directly on the gun position,
one round exploding in the parapet in front
of the gun, and one fell just behind the
trails. The position was enveloped in dust
and smoke. The cannoneers found their
way back to their bunker one by one.
Miraculously, no one was injured. They
returned to the gun and finished the mission.
The gunners returned to their bunker,
huddling in the darkness as shells continued
to land within the perimeter. The temperature
began to rise, and I sought the cooler
air of the slit trench which served as the
entrance to the bunker. I was soon joined by
another crew member, and then another. I
then climbed to a position just over the
door.
When another volley came down on the
position, I hugged the ground as shrapnel
whistled about me. I then ran into the squad
tent and “liberated” several cans of beer
belonging to the track driver. He was
assigned to the motor pool when we were
under fire, so he was not present to protest.
I took the loot back to the top of the
bunker, where I tried to drink the liquid as
rapidly as I could, seeking some respite
from the incoming shells. Soon, I was
joined by another member of the crew. As
others sought the coolness atop the bunker,
they were told that they had to take positions
away from the door behind the first
arrivals.
When another volley came down on the
position, there was a mad dash for the safety
of the bunker. I held firmly on to my beer,
but found my hand locked in position by
another crew member on top of me. The
liquid poured slowly down on the men in
the trench below me. With much groaning,
we were finally able to disentangle ourselves
and return to the safety of the bunker.
James A. Frowein, 24434 W. Lancelot
Lane, Joliet, IL 60431, 17th FAB – “C” &
“HQ & HQ”, 4/1/52 to 5/13/53
85
The Graybeards
July - August A
2005