A SHORT BIT AGO, I reread a letter my dad wrote home to his parents in southwestern Minnesota on his 22nd birthday in March 1953. Dad penned the letter thousands of miles away in Korea, where he was fighting on the frontline during the Korean War.
One long paragraph of that missive stands out for me on this Veterans Day. That is Dad’s anger at the draft board and at those who thought it necessary to send young men like him into what he termed a “hell hole” and a war against Communism that he didn’t think could be won.
I expect many others thought like Dad. How could you not after shooting, killing, watching your buddies die in battle? After living with hunger and bone-chilling cold in a mountainous land far from home.
At the time of his letter, Dad was especially concerned that his younger brother, Harold, would be drafted. He vowed revenge if that happened. I suppose when you’re an older brother and you’ve seen war like he has, you don’t want someone you love to experience the same. Dad’s words were just that. Words. Words written by a combat soldier weary of war. A soldier frustrated. A soldier counting the months until he could leave Korea and then be discharged from the Army.
Dad vented to his parents. He called for those in positions of power to come to the Korean battlefields, to see for themselves the realities of war. I imagine many a soldier wished the same, that officials, leaders and decision-makers understood the results of their policies, actions, decisions, orders.
My dad came home from Korea with the wounds of war. Mental, emotional and physical. He was wounded by shrapnel at Heartbreak Ridge. He experienced depression and post traumatic stress disorder.
Yet, he returned to America still patriotic, a proud American whose sacrifices and service were not then recognized. He served in what would become known as “The Forgotten War.” How demeaning, to be ignored, unsupported, just like Vietnam War veterans. Only decades later did Dad receive the Purple Heart he earned on the battlefield.
Dad went on to become an active American Legion member, serving as commander of the local post. He taught me and my siblings to respect veterans and those who died in battle. We attended every Memorial Day program in my hometown of Vesta. Afterwards we gathered at the cemetery for the playing of taps, prayer and a gun salute. We wandered among the tombstones.
I joined the Junior American Legion Auxiliary, which mostly involved selling poppies on Poppy Day. I also read “In Flanders Fields” at the community Memorial Day program and placed paper poppies on a wreath. My mom was an active American Legion Auxiliary member.
Dad integrated back into life in rural Minnesota upon his return from Korea as if nothing had changed for him. But it had. And it did. Going through his box of “Korea stuff” 72 years after he wrote that birthday letter home to his parents, I glimpse the “hell hole” of war he experienced. My anger rises, too, for all he endured and suffered on the battlefield and upon his return home to rural Minnesota.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
To all veterans: we will never forget you. My son was a Marine. Sempre fi. Mighty fine. Blessed be to y’all!
It’s good to hear from you, Brad. And thank you to your son for his service in the Marines.
I cannot even imagine what it must have been for these young soldiers and what they must have endured during and after their military service. reading letters like this help to provide some insight, but the burden and pain must have been so much more – <3. to your dad, and all who served, we will never forget what they gave for us.
I’m thankful I have these letters and other items from my dad. Yesterday, as I looked through two shoeboxes of his mostly military-related stuff, I grieved. He died in 2003 at the age of 72, too young. There are days when the missing him overwhelms. Yesterday, Veterans Day, was one of those days.
yes, that must be a very hard one for you –
Not overly difficult, but a day of grief and memories none-the-less.
The horrors of war…so sad. And to be unrecognized for the sacrifices made is sad too. His comments on those in power being on the war front is true. No one knows what it’s like unless you actually experience it. I’m grateful you have the letters from your father. What a treasure.
Dad’s letters are, indeed, a treasure. As are his photos. The horrors of war, ah, yes, something no one should have to experience. And yet war rages around the world. I think of Ukraine, the Middle East, Sudan… And with the military moves and strong statements about Venezuela, I fear the US will become mired in another war.
Audrey, this is such an important, deep, resonate post. Thank you, and your dad.
Thank you for your kind words.