Dem
47
GOP
53
On each of the weekdays of this month, we will be running one or more reminiscences of the people who helped wage America's wars. This includes both military and civilian personnel. For the leadoff position this year, we've chosen an account from reader R.A. in Paris, TX:
My father, Bob Alsobrook, served in an artillery unit in the Korean War:
The red silk scarf he wears in the photo was not regulation Army. He had grown up in Depression-era rural northeast Texas, a descendant of several generations of farmers, and had been attending college, majoring in fine art. During the break between his associate's degree and transfer to a university, the Army drafted him. He was deemed officer material and sent to Officer Candidate School. He had an aptitude for math, so he was trained as an artillery forward observer and sent to serve in Korea. He wore the scarf because there was no color in the drab mountains where he was stationed.
During one battle, he was walking down a hill when a North Korean shell exploded nearby, the shrapnel piercing his legs. Unable to stand, he knew the next round would be re-calibrated and would kill him. Fortunately, the shell that landed nearby was a dud. He was sent to a M.A.S.H unit, given penicillin, to which he apparently was allergic, and went into a coma for three days. After surviving attempts by both the North Koreans and the U.S. Army to kill him, he was sent on R&R to Japan, where he spent an entire month's salary purchasing a set of china for his mother. As the oldest grandchild, I inherited that china and still use it.
After other adventures, including one in which he became trapped behind enemy lines for 3 weeks, he finished his time and was honorably discharged. He returned to Texas, married and had three children who adored him, and became a surrogate father to two other teenagers who became part of our extended family for decades. He returned to college in 1963, finished his BFA, and invented a new medium using oil paint on etched aluminum foil.
He was proud of his military service, but he was profoundly anti-war and refused to join the local VFW club, although he did stay in touch with his former comrades-in-arms. He never used the veterans' benefits to which he was entitled, not even to help with expenses when he returned to college to finish the degree that the U.S. government had interrupted. He never hunted again; he said he knew what it felt like to be prey. He sympathized with the young men who wanted to avoid serving in Vietnam.
Among the military insignia he kept in a cigar box, one that I had decorated with pasta shells and gold paint for a school project, was a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. Like many veterans, he would talk about his military experiences but never about combat. I was an adult in my 30s before I learned what a Bronze Star was, and over the years, I would occasionally ask him how he had earned it. He would only reply that he had been young and foolhardy. Similar questions about what combat was like elicited only the response that it was "sheer terror." For the rest of his life, he was troubled that he had killed men. Several years after Korea, he responded to a statement that an acquaintance had made in support of imposing the death penalty for anyone who had committed murder. He simply said that he would be included in that group and refused to acknowledge that following orders in war automatically absolved him of that sin.
One last comment: My father despised Gen. Douglas MacArthur. His unit had remained stationed above the 38th parallel for some time after Harry S. Truman had ordered MacArthur not to go there. They were located close to the border, where the Chinese army had amassed around 500,000 troops who were waiting to overrun the Americans. To my father and his fellow officers, MacArthur was an arrogant, insubordinate warmonger who would have gotten them all killed. They had no sympathy when he was relieved of duty; they all knew he would have court-martialed them for such insolent disobedience.
Thanks, R.A.—great start to this year's series.
We continue to welcome submissions, if anyone cares to share their story, or that of a family member, acquaintance, etc. Send them to comments@electoral-vote.com, ideally with subject line "Never Forget."
P.S.: The reason we always ask for specific subject lines, in instances like this, is not because we are nitpicky professors making arbitrary rules for the students to follow. It is because we get a lot of e-mail, and this makes it much easier to find messages on a particular subject, since we can search by subject line. If a reader uses some other subject line, there's a good chance we'll still see, and handle, the message properly. But if it's the subject line we request, then those odds go up to 100%. (Z)