My stepfather Phil served twice in the United States Army. He fibbed about his age the first time and served in Europe. He was a kid. So young.
The second go-round he was shipped off to Korea. Still very young. A teenager.
He never spoke about it until a year or so after lengthy hospital stays and serious surgery. Even then he said little. I had to think fast and ask questions while the door was open.
He told me about advancing across a cold, barren river valley....being shot at and having no where to find protection.
He told me about the locals who flooded the roads in an attempt to escape the hell that was unfolding all around them. He told me that sometimes the Army could not get them to move aside and allow the military convoys to pass. They would not move, even after repeated requests. Then the jets were called in. They flew overhead and obliterated everyone and everything on the road. The convey moved forward.
The photos presented here show Phil and a fellow soldier (Phil's on the right), a view of a local scene, and a family portrait retrieved off the body of a fallen North Korean soldier.
War is not only Hell it seems. It is much worse.
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