My father fought at Old Baldy. Lost his best friend there. He burned his uniform because it was so saturated with his friend’s blood.
I’ve only seen my father cry a few times in my life; when my nephew died, when my mother died, and when he talked about Korea.
My friend was proudest of his record as a platoon leader in never having lost a man in combat in Korea. He was saddened to learn the guy who took over his platoon was killed in action while my friend was on the boat home from Korea.