Remains of a life

 

Lately, I've been rummaging around in old boxes and suitcases, even ancient steamer trunks, stored at the ranch in various sheds and attics by assorted relatives over the decades.  Above are two items from my "other" grandfather, as I call him.  I never got to see him very often growing up because he had been a career Air Force pilot based in New England for much of his life, and that's where he retired, whereas I grew up overseas or on the west coast -- Whidbey Island, North Island -- and when I had vacation, I stayed with relatives in the mountain West most of the times.

Anyway, I found his old wings in a box of assorted doodads in a large suitcase that contained old uniforms, photographs, including a lot of slides, copies of orders, personnel files and that sort of thing.  There are three types of wings -- the plain ones, the one with a star, as above, and then one with a star surrounded by a wreath, near above and to the left.  That's apparently the most senior one, the command pilot badge, while the star denotes a senior pilot (I just looked it up!) and the plain wings are what a new pilot is issued.

Friends lost, I imagine.

I've written about his career before, how he flew in the Berlin Airlift in 1948-49, served in the Korean War in the earliest days as a Douglas (not Martin) B-26 pilot and Forward Air Controller on the ground when the Chinese attacked, and afterwards served with the Strategic Air Command flying B-47s and later B-52s, including flying bombing missions during the Viet Nam War.  The severely scratched up silver and gold artifact above is his cigarette case that he got during the Berlin Airlift.  As near as I can make it out, it says, "Operation Vittles, 1949, with the map of West Germany and the symbol for

From steering yoke hub

West Berlin in gold as is the airplane, presumably a C-54.  How it got so banged up, I have no idea, of course, but to me it is redolent of an active, adventuresome life.  I can imagine him fishing out a Camel or Fatima after successfully managing setting down a plane overloaded with sacks of coal, one engine out, on a GCA landing at night in the fog during a Berlin winter.  Or maybe snapping it open and extracting a Lucky Strike or Old Gold after surviving a danger-close air support call on the retreat to the Hungnam perimeter, or making it safely home after dodging Yak-25s on the border of the USSR during a 10-hour flight in a Stratojet, or ...; well, you get the picture. 

That old cigarette case holds more than cigarettes.  It carries a lifetime of memories; I hold it in my had with awe.   And so does this old cigarette lighter I found in the same box with the case. It's pretty battered, too, but you can still make out Mt. Fuji and a pagoda. The flint still sparks but the fuel is long spent or evaporated away. Just like the life in the hand that once flipped open the lid, spun the wheel to ignite its flame, lit that cigarette. 

Explanation of this photo to the right says "I Company, 23rd Infantry, 2nd Division, Wonju.  When the ROKs broke and ran these guys stopped the Reds.  Went into the fight with 160 men, came out with 58."

 To the left is a photo of some village in Korea during that war.  South Korea looks a lot different today, to say the least.  In the early days of the war the ROK and US forces were driven all the way back to Pusan, where they were finally able to establish and hold a defensive perimeter.  The fighting was quite savage, truly war without mercy. But today? Pusan, or Busan as it is now romanized, is a spectacular city with direct flights to Saipan's gorgeous beaches and resort hotels.  Saipan, too, was the subject of a vicious fight, some 50,000 killed in about three weeks of combat, and once was famous for its suicide cliffs where Japanese civilians leapt to their deaths rather than be captured by us and handed some charlie rats and a change of lice-free clothes.

I found this medal to the right in another box, this one full of a jumble of medals, service bars, ribbons, badges, patches and what not.  Nothing was in a presentation box.  They were all just kind of dumped in this old Muriel cigar box.  This one interested me because on the reverse the inscription reads, "For service in defense of the principles of the charter of the United Nations."  Not in defense of Korea, not in defense of America.  The UN was a big deal in those days and a lot of faith was placed in the ability it had to eliminate war and punish those who sought to instigate it.  I know, I know.  Vain hope.  But still...  I do so wish the UN had succeeded. Don't you?

Oh, what happened to my grandfather?  He lived through it all, flying war surplus C-47s in Central America, all the Cold War incidents and episodes, three hot wars, and retired without a scratch, as far as I know, to a comfortable home in New England where he lived out the rest of his life in peace and quiet.