HEART OF STEELE

My father, a U.S. Army veteran, had a great story about his military service during the Korean War, and it always reminds me how random life can be.

After completing basic training, Dad’s unit traveled by boat to South Korea. There, the Army employed an unusual method for deciding where soldiers would go next. An officer with a piece of chalk walked down the line, writing a number on each soldier's helmet. Those who got a 1 went to the front, 2s and 3s to other areas, and 4s went to Seoul for more training.

Dad was a 4. By the time he finished his classes–I don’t think he ever mentioned what he studied–the Korean Armistice Agreement had been signed, and the war was over.

Whether by the grace of God or plain luck, he came home after serving in war time with no scars or injuries, physical or otherwise. Dad was discharged in 1954; in 1955, he married my mother. They were together nearly 43 years, until his death in 1998.

Most of what I know about Dad's time overseas comes from paging through an old scrapbook filled with postcards he sent home, cartoons, and some photos of him with friends he made overseas, including a beautiful Korean woman I always wondered about. Though he didn’t talk much about it, I know he was proud of his service and later, of his membership in the American Legion. And we were all proud of him.

After years of listening to veterans’ stories, I know how lucky he was, how lucky we all were. Without that 4 on his helmet, my father could have come back from war wounded or psychologically scarred. He might not have come back at all.

As we approach another Veterans Day, my heart goes out to all those who have faced the risks and randomness of war in service to our country. We owe you a debt we can never repay.