Veterans Day: Homecomings … and heart
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MORGANTOWN - Not every war story has Sheriff Andy Taylor and Deputy Barney Fife in it.
This one does.
During one lazy afternoon back in the 1990s, Jack Sealy was kicked back in his living room in Georgia, doing what he always did that time of day.
He was parked in his recliner, catching a rerun of "The Andy Griffith Show," the landmark situation comedy that featured Don Knotts of Morgantown, the actor who won five Emmys for his portrayal of the above-mentioned bumbling deputy.
Griffith honored his co-star's lineage by featuring walk-on characters visiting his fictional Mayberry, who were written as residents visiting from Knotts' real-life hometown.
One mention of the city in north-central West Virginia in this particular episode, and the icy vault of Sealy's buried memories from Korea - he was a Prisoner of War there - melted down.
Just like that.
"Hey," he said to the TV. "Joe Lawson."
Lawson, a rangy kid from Osage, was a little older than a lot of the guys in his unit when he mustered into the service in 1950 as President Truman committed to Korea.
At 22, Lawson could be silly with the best of them, but he was still mature enough to be a good soldier on post - a dynamic that made him a kind of de facto big brother to the other recruits in the barracks who were barely out of high school.
The dynamic was even more so once everybody hit the war zone.
One offhand mention of "Morgantown" in a half-hour TV show, and Sealy got his marching orders.
"I wonder what the heck happened to Joe?" he mused. "If he's still with us, I bet he's back in West Virginia."
So he started researching and calling from a unit roster.
Amazingly, it wasn't long before the surviving POWs of the U.S. Army's Company B, of the 32nd Infantry's 7th Division, were back together for a reunion weekend.
Guys who normally weren't huggers - were - that weekend.
And no one was shy about shedding tears.
'THAT'S THE BEAUTY OF IT'
Wednesday is Veterans Day, the holiday that honors those who wore the uniform, and those who continue to serve.
It's about the men and women who came home in flag-draped coffins and the warriors who lived to tell about it (even if many prefer not to tell about it).
It's about saying "Thank you for your service," and cheering your kid marching in his first parade with his middle school band.
It's about pageantry and the old soldiers who still show up as part of the honor guard to deliver a crisp salute for the proceedings ... and pay that weather no mind, son.
"I'll be there for as long as I'm able," said Wilbur England, who is on the honor guard Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 9916 in Westover and served in Vietnam.
His post holds its annual ceremonies at 11 a.m. Wednesday in front of the post on Holland Avenue.
Morgantown's Veterans Day Parade, as coordinated by VFW Post 548, steps off at 6 p.m. that same day on High Street.
Jeremy Allio, Post 548's commander who did combat tours in Iraq during his time in the Army, likes that people and organizations don't forget the parade.
"That's the beauty of it," he said.
"People just show up."
BUGLES AND BULLETS
Lawson and Sealy and the others, meanwhile, had shown up at a place they didn't necessarily want to be, courtesy of their greetings from Uncle Sam.
They were encamped and shivering at the Chosin Reservoir - "The Frozen Chosin" - near the 38th Parallel, a bit of latitude and longitude that would mean everything in the war that never ended.
At precisely 2 a.m. Nov. 27, 1950, the most hotly contested piece of real estate in subzero North Korea got even more so.
When Lawson heard the bugle signaling the charge, "All hell broke loose," as he recalled.
Two guys raised their hands in surrender - only to be gunned down in response.
Another close by was shot in the throat, spilling blood on Lawson's uniform.
In the rush, he lost his M-1, and then found it. He fired his weapon and saw soldiers fall - but he wasn't proud.
He was scared.
Lawson was hit in the legs and could no longer go.
On Dec. 2, 1950, six days after that bugle call punched the Arctic-feeling air of the 38th Parallel, Joe Lawson of Osage became a Prisoner of War.
IMPRESSIONS OF WAR (IN PENCIL)
His son, Joe Lawson Jr., knew that Joe was a POW. He didn't know all the details. He found out on the afternoon of Aug. 30, 2002.
That was the day his dad died. That was the day he found the notebook paper and his dad's account of the war. It was written in pencil. One long take. No paragraphs, no punctuation.
Two years.
Seven months.
And 20 days.
That's how long he languished in the POW camp. He wasn't a heavy guy to begin with, and weighed just 90 pounds when he was liberated.
'YES, WE SHOULD'
Back home, he renewed his acquaintance with a pretty girl from Pursglove named Mary Jane Saffron.
He was thinking about her - a lot - before he got drafted.
One evening, during the main feature at Osage movie theater in the once-bustling coal camp, he made it a point to plant himself in an adjoining seat - so he could watch her, watching the Hollywood stars on the screen.
That was their introduction.
"It was cute," she said with a girlish giggle (at the age of 90) that made the years melt.
Her husband could always make her laugh, she said. Same for the guys on his crew in the coal mines, the profession he took up in civilian life.
No one knew he had survived the horrors of war.
A few weeks after he was home, and getting his weight back and his spirit back too, he was out strolling with Mary Jane.
It wasn't necessarily a marriage proposal. It was more like a proclamation.
"Hey," he said. "We need to get married."
"Yes," his soon-to-be bride answered. "Yes, we do."
Kids. Grandkids. Dancing the polka and going to Las Vegas.
They had 48 years together.
Just like that.
"I'm really glad he sat next to me that night at the movies," said Mary Jane, who rejoined her husband in June.