Attribution: Signal Corps Archive, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
By Bill Stokes
Kickass, the doorstop dog, looks over the keeper’s shoulder as he sorts through a packet of “Bill’s letters from Korea” as it was labeled by the keeper’s dear mother who worried and “prayed” him home from a year of combat with an Infantry Intelligence and Reconnaissance platoon.
The keeper had never looked at the letters—too busy with a wonderful life and reviewing them now after 73 years turns those years into seconds and begs the question—Where did they go so fast?
On Red Cross stationary the letter is dated Feb. 26, 1952, and in the keeper’s nearly illegible handwriting it tells of his apprehension about his final shift of observation post duty before he gets to “rotate” back to the US. It does not mention that two of his platoon mates were killed by artillery on the OP a week earlier nor does it or subsequent letters mention that an artillery shell landed on the OP later and buried the keeper in dirt and debris and made him deaf for a couple of days.
The keeper may not get through all of the Korean letters, as revealing as they are about a young man’s innocence and arrogance and his ridiculous assumed invincibility and enthusiastic plans for an exciting future.
Now in this age of pushbutton warfare one thing has not changed—people will die, likely thousands of them—little kids, old grandmas, young soldiers and all kinds of messages will be exchanged, including high tech versions of the “letters from Korea” with hope for survival part of the standard format of fighting and dying on behalf of rich narcissistic billionaires.
YOU ROTTEN BONE SPUR BASTARDS!
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