WHEN MEMORIAL DAY ROLLS around each May, my thoughts shift to my dad, who served on the front lines during the Korean War. He survived, albeit with the emotional trauma that comes from killing and constant danger of being killed. His close buddy, though, did not survive. And that is the man I remember and honor today, along with others who’ve lost their lives in service to country.
Corporal Ray W. Scheibe, 22, of Wolbach, Nebraska, died on June 2, 1953, blown apart by a mortar shell. My dad witnessed his horrific death, for war is nothing short of horrible. Ray was scheduled to leave Korea the next day, which makes his story even more tragic. He left behind grieving friends and family, including his wife, Marilyn, and 3-month-old daughter, Terri Rae, whom he had not yet seen. I’ve since found and connected with Terri in Iowa, but have yet to meet her.
It is the individual stories of soldiers like Ray that take war to a personal level. A level that allows us to understand the meaning of the words “killed in action.” My father’s grief in losing Ray became, in some ways, my grief, too.
On Memorial Day we gather in collective grief to remember the many men and women who, like Ray, died while serving in the U.S. military. There will be parades and speeches, patriotic music and poetry, poppies and red-white-and-blue attire. Names read. Tears shed. Taps played. Guns fired. Flags carried. Graves visited.
In our hearts, in the silence of our thoughts, we reflect upon what it truly means to give up life for country as did Ray and 27 other men listed in a July 31, 1953, memorial service bulletin my dad carried home from Korea. Below those names are these words from Scripture: Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).
I get emotional as I open the creased, soiled and yellowing 72-year-old memorial service program from Such’am-dong, Korea. I’ve tucked it into a shoebox with Dad’s other military papers, photos and belongings to pull out twice annually on Memorial and Veterans Days. I need to read the fading typewritten names, to recognize and honor these men who never made it home.
I reread the list of alphabetized names from Turrell Anderson to Vernie Zurn. Raymond W. Scheibe falls at number 24. The surviving men of the 2nd Battalion, 65th Infantry Regiment, who mourned the 28 on that July day in 1953, carried the heavy weight of grief as they prayed, stood in silence, sang “America the Beautiful” and “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee.” And then they carried that grief home.
Today, even decades after the death of a service member in war, grief carries through generations. It’s important to remember that, to respect that, to take time on Memorial Day for not only honoring, but also for grieving. In grief we begin to acknowledge and process loss. In grief we begin to heal. And in grief we begin to understand the ultimate sacrifice for country.
TELL ME: If you have a story to share about a service member who was killed in action, I’d like to hear. Who do you honor on this Memorial Day?
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
You always share such wonderful stories about servicemen. It’s important to honor each one and the impact they have made on our lives. Thank you.
You are welcome. Their stories need to be told.
❤️
it is so incredibly important that they are never forgotten, for their service, their sacrifices, their love of country. that picture of your dad and his buddies is priceless and shows just how young they were. with what they had to do and deal with, it is shocking that any soldiers who were lucky enough to return could even get on with life unscathed in some way. what a tragic loss of his friend, ray, who was not so lucky, and for his family, back home, waiting for his return. I’m so glad that you reached out and have connected in some way and that you honor all who served with your words and memories. it is so incredibly important for all of us to to do, on Memorial Day, and every day. ❤
Well said, Beth. And, yes, my dad looks so young in that photo. He endured much and paid for it the rest of his life with undiagnosed PTSD and the attitude of life goes on. Fortunately in his senior years, he got the support he needed. And he was awarded a Purple Heart some 50 years after he was wounded.
I’m glad he was awarded, and sorry it took so long
Dad’s military paperwork was apparently lost in a fire. It took the hard work of the county veterans service officer to secure Dad’s Purple Heart for him.
Wow, I feel very moved by the memories of your father’s friend, who made the ultimate sacrifice for his country. And truly, so did all those who loved him. War is a thief of humankind, and I hope, sometime in the future, we recognize the futility of taking other’s lives and find kinder ways to settle our differences. But, until then, we must honor those who have fought for all of us. And mourn them all, as they deserve. Thank you, Audrey, for always making me think.
Sheri, your words, “thief of humankind” are so fitting. I, too, hope for a time when there is no war and differences can be settled in kinder ways. That said, I can’t envision that happening anytime soon.