In times of war, it is not only soldiers who perform feats of great valor and display incredible courage.
Often, non-combatant civilians risk their lives by performing quiet yet extraordinary acts of selflessness and gallantry that require just as much bravery as a soldier charging head-on into enemy fire.
Irena Sendler was one such civilian. She was a gentle but determined Polish social worker who managed to smuggle 2,500 children out of the Warsaw Ghetto during the Second World War. As amazing as this feat was, she was only internationally honored for her immense bravery toward the end of her life.
Sendler was born in 1910 in Warsaw, Poland. Her father’s dedication to doing the right thing regardless of the risk involved must certainly have made an impression on the young Irena, despite the tragic consequences of his unshakable devotion to good. In 1917, he died from typhus, contracted while treating patients’ other doctors refused to treat.
Many of his former patients happened to be Jews, and in gratitude for what he had done, Jewish community leaders sponsored Irena’s education.
When Nazi Germany invaded Poland in September 1939, Sendler immediately began to help local Jews by offering them food and shelter.
However, once the Nazis had established the infamous Warsaw Ghetto, into which the entire Jewish population of the city was corralled in October 1939, it became much more difficult for Sendler to provide help.
Then, on November 16, 1940, when the Warsaw Ghetto was completely sealed off from the rest of the city, she realized that she would have to adopt an alternative – and more covert – approach.
Surrounding the entire Warsaw Ghetto was a 3.5 meter (11.5 foot) high concrete wall topped with barbed wire and broken glass. All-access points were heavily guarded by Nazi troops. Getting in, as an ordinary Polish citizen, would have been nigh on impossible.
Irena Sendler knew she had to help, though. Conditions in the ghetto for the nearly 400,000 Jews crammed into the small area were horrific.
As a result of severe overcrowding and a lack of sanitation in tandem with the Nazis’ miserly rations (only 200 calories per day), starvation and disease ran rampant.
Realizing that her identification documents, which stated that she was a social worker, were insufficient to obtain access to the ghetto, Sendler managed to get fake ID documents identifying her as a nurse. This allowed her to get in and out of the ghetto.
To begin with, she smuggled in medicine, food, and clothes. The risks associated with something seemingly so innocuous were, in fact, substantial. From October 1941, the Nazis stated that helping Jews was a serious crime – one punishable by death.
However, this did not stop Sendler, and she courageously continued smuggling food and medicine to the residents of the Warsaw ghetto, as well as forging paperwork to help them.
In 1942, when the Nazi occupiers began deporting Jews from the ghetto to the notorious Treblinka death camp, it became clear to Sendler that time was running out and that she would have to take more drastic measures to help the Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto. She joined the newly-formed underground resistance organization, Zegota, and soon became head of its Children’s Unit.
This was when her most dangerous and difficult work would begin. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Irena Sendler vowed to do whatever it took to save as many children as she could from being taken to Treblinka.
Sendler and ten close friends began to undertake the extremely risky business of smuggling young Jewish children out of the Warsaw Ghetto.
Because of the extreme danger involved in what they were doing, they came up with several inventive ways of smuggling young children out.
These methods ranged from sending them through secret underground tunnels to physically carrying them out, hiding them in suitcases, boxes, or even coffins.
When it came to smuggling babies, whose cries might attract the attention of the guards, Sendler and her friends sedated them to make sure they stayed quiet.
Jewish children who were rescued by these means were then taken to Roman Catholic orphanages and convents, sometimes even private homes, and given non-Jewish names to keep their true identities safe from the German authorities.
However, Sendler recorded the name of every child she saved, as well as the names of the child’s parents and relatives. She wrote these details on scraps of paper that she put in jars, which she secretly buried in a friend’s backyard.
She hoped that, by preserving these details, she could reunite the children with their families after the war.
However, the Nazis soon became aware that someone was smuggling children out, and they arrested Sendler in October 1943.
She was brutally tortured during interrogation sessions, and her torturers broke both of her feet and her legs. But she refused to betray her friends in Zegota and did not give up any information.
She was sentenced to death, but on the day of her execution, the Gestapo officer charged with ending her life informed her that her friends in Zegota had successfully bribed him to spare her life. He secretly released her, adding her name to a list of executed prisoners.
After this, she had gone into hiding and stay underground. Even while in hiding, though, she continued to help the resistance movement in whatever way she could.
After the war, she returned to her friend’s backyard to dig up all the jars she had buried there, hoping to reunite the children she had rescued with their parents and families. Unfortunately, by that time, almost all the children’s families had been exterminated in the death camps.
The rescued children were thus either adopted by Polish families or sent to Israel.
Despite Irena Sendler’s incredible courage, selflessness and tenacity, and the remarkable fact that she risked her life day in and day out for years to save close to 2,500 children, her heroic actions went unrecognized for most of her life, and she remained a little-known figure outside of Poland.
She finally received the recognition she deserved - but never asked for, as a truly humble person - in 1999, when a group of high school students in Kansas produced a play, Life in A Jar, based on her exploits in Warsaw.
After this, her story became known around the world, and she was presented with several international awards. She passed away in May 2008, aged 98, and will always be remembered as one of the unsung heroes of the Second World War.
capture the service story
of every veteran'
Join Now Watch Video
A U.S. Marine, blood flowing from wounds in his chest and both legs, recited the Lord's Prayer as a Navy Corpsman fired bullets into the platoon's radio so that counterattacking enemy soldiers could not use it.
Another Leatherneck, a black-bearded machine gunner, led a charge up a mountain of rubble that had once been a stately tower, shouting: "We're Marines, let's go!"
These episodes illustrate the battle of the Hue Citadel - a grim, struggle through the courtyards and battlements of the old imperial fort. The fight pits U.S. and Vietnamese Marines, determined to take the Citadel, against North Vietnamese soldiers equally determined to hold it.
John Olson, a photographer with the Pacific edition of "Stars and Stripes," spent three days with the 3rd Platoon of Delta Company, 1st Bn, 5th Marines.
Thursday morning, Olson said, the platoon moved forward through the narrow alleys and tree-lined streets of a housing area to attack the tower over the east gate. They dashed at a half-crouch into a courtyard but didn't make it across.
Three Communist rockets crashed into the yard. The radio operator was blown nearly in half. Several other Marines were wounded.
Eight men in the squad retreated to a vacant villa and fired back. A medic ran out to help the wounded and was hit in the legs and fell. A Marine scrambled into the courtyard, but an enemy sniper hit him in the neck as he cried for help.
An hour later, as the battle still raged, there were nine men in the villa, and three were wounded. They did not know where the other units were. They were down to several hundred rounds of ammunition, and the radio was lying in the courtyard on the pack of the dead radioman.
The machine gunner, a Lance Corporal, borrowed a knife, crawled forward, cut the radio free, and crawled back.
But the radio wouldn't work.
The small band of Leathernecks could hear the other platoons report to the company, but they couldn't transmit.
"They're coming around us, on both sides," riflemen at the windows shouted as they saw North Vietnamese soldiers circling the house.
One badly wounded man began to recite the Lord's Prayer. Another Marine, the one who had been hit in the neck, tried to comfort him. "Save your ammunition until they charge," the Corpsman, a Navy man, advised the Marines.
Then he smashed the radio headset against the cement floor, turned the dial so that enemy soldiers couldn't trace the frequency, and fired a round into the transmitter. When the enemy didn't attack, the Corpsman told the others he was going for help. He disappeared through the rear door and was back in 15 minutes to say help was on the way.
A half-hour later, Marines of Bravo Company arrived and laid down a curtain of fire as the Marines in the villa ripped off doors to serve as stretchers and carried their wounded out. The platoon hadn't made it to the east gate tower, but other Marines had.
They blasted their way along the wall and seized the massive stone structure. But the North Vietnamese counterattacked and drove them back. The Marines attacked again and held until 4 a.m. Friday. Then the North Vietnamese unleashed a thunderous barrage of rockets and recoilless fire and charged.
The enemy took the tower again, but now it was reduced to only a torn finger of stone protruding from a mountain of rubble that the Marines labeled "The Hill." At daybreak, the Marines regrouped for another assault on "The Hill."
At 9:30, they began scrambling up the shattered wall. The first five men to reach the top fell back wounded. The others stopped, crouching behind chunks of masonry. The black-bearded machine- gunner, cradling his weapon in his arms, stood up and shouted: "We're Marines, let's go!"
They reached the top - the tower - climbing over the bodies of Marines and North Vietnamese soldiers. They fought two hours to hold it. At noon, a Marine sniper cried out, "they're running, put out some fire."
Other Marines jumped up and began shooting at the North Vietnamese soldiers darting back through the ruins to another tower farther south.
UPI correspondent Alvin Webb Jr., who has been covering the battle from the start, sent out the following dispatch: It is nine blocks from where I am sitting on the south gate of the wall around the Citadel. It may become the bloodiest nine blocks for the men of the United States Marine Corps since that other war in Korea when they fought and died in the streets of Seoul.
"Seoul was tough," an old top sergeant who was there told me a few minutes ago. "But this - well, it's something else."
"Five snipers," Capt. Scott Nelson of Florida said. "That's all it takes to tie us down completely."
You can hear the whine of the snipers' bullets and the eerie whoosh of B40 rockets and feel the thunder of mortar rounds chewing up houses. I can catch glimpses from time to time of the walls of the imperial city, which protect the Palace of Perfect Peace. The North Vietnamese are using it as a fortress.
We move forward. We sweep into a building facing Nguyen Dieu Street behind a blistering blast of M16 fire and thunderous belches from tanks. We took the building and found a body inside. The man was wearing a khaki North Vietnamese Army uniform and carried two hand grenades made in Communist China.
He lay face down in a pool of darkening red. I looked at him. A Marine interrupted my thoughts. "You remember where you were sitting five minutes ago?' he asked me. "Absolutely." "Well, they just put four mortar rounds in on us - right where you were sitting."
Because of proposed cuts in the United States budget for 2019, the National Park Services would be severely reduced. This may have a negative impact on many NPS sites, including those where Japanese Americans were confined following America's entry into WWII in 1941.
In 2006, the government set up the Japanese American Confinement Sites Grants Program via the National Parks and set aside thirty-eight million dollars to educate the public as to the importance of remembering this sometimes-controversial story in the nation's history.
The grant money is typically used for site preservation, research, preserving oral and written histories, museums, educational materials, and archeology.
As the years go by, fewer and fewer formerly incarcerated Japanese Americans are left to tell the stories. To keep those stories from fading away, work must be done, and that costs money.
Ever since Ronald Reagan signed the Civil Liberties Act in 1988, every sitting President has worked to make sure this story of what happened to Japanese and Japanese Americans during World War II was in everyone's minds. This is According to Bruce Embrey, co-chair of a committee from the largest detention center, Manzanar.
Every president except the current president has made sure that the lessons from a xenophobic, racist law not be lost on our country."
Most of the Japanese Americans affected were living in the western states, and many eastern dwelling residents didn't even know it was happening.
One hundred and twenty thousand Americans of Japanese descent were removed from their homes and forced into detention camps because their loyalties were in question simply because of their physical features. Most were hard-working people, born in the United States, who owned homes and lived quiet lives trying to make sure their children had a future.
When they were detained, they lost their homes, jobs, and any type of financial security they had earned. They were crowded into one of ten internment camps and forced to share tar paper shacks. Most of the camps were surrounded by barbed wire fencing with armed guard towers just as the Jews and Poles were experiencing in Germany.
If any of the inmates complained, they were sent to a camp set aside especially for those believed to be 'disloyal' in Tule Lake, California. In Washington State, many families were temporarily housed in cow or horse stalls at the local fairgrounds until they were able to be sent to a permanent internment camp.
It all started when President Franklin D. Roosevelt succumbed to the national hysteria after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. He signed Executive Order 9066, giving the United States the right to detain anyone of Japanese descent.
In truth, the order was partly designed to protect the Japanese Americans from members of the public who turned against them, assuming that because the attack on 
Pearl Harbor was carried out by Japanese, all Japanese must be bad.
The attitude in some ways parallels the present plight of Muslims in the U.S. who are being punished just because people who shared their ancestry or religion flew airplanes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. As one former prisoner commented, "If we were put there for our protection, why were the guns at the guard towers pointed inward instead of outward?"
Fortunately, many influential activists are now speaking out. These include writer Tamiko Nimura, whose father was incarcerated at Tule Lake. Satsuki Ina, a psychotherapist, professor, and filmmaker who was born at Tule Lake camp. Educator Larry Matsuda, born at Camp Minidoka. Actor and writer George Takei, who spent much of his childhood in detention camps in Rohwer, Arkansas, and Tule Lake.
Takei co-wrote and starred in Allegiance, a Broadway show that was based on his family's experience during the war. Nimura and Matsuda have both published novels documenting the internment camp experience.
"This happened to us, and the language that being used today is very similar to what ultimately led to our incarceration," said Satsuki Ina. "If the story of the Japanese Americans could be taught in the schools and public places where people could come and visit and see for themselves, it will educate people to keep it from happening again, to realize that we"re-edging towards another dangerous violation of civil rights."
A recent effort to find the remains of six Americans killed in action in Southeast Asia reflects a continued commitment to find, locate, and return the remains of U.S. service members killed in the line of duty to provide final closure for family members and comrades in arms.
Earlier this year, a recovery team from the Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency (DPAA) attempted to find the remains of the six Americans - two Green Berets and four aviators. - Thes American servicemen fought and died in the secret war fought for eight years under the aegis of the Military Assistance Command Vietnam–Studies and Observations Group, or simply SOG.
Cliff Newman is a former Green Beret. He located those fallen Americans 44 years ago but was unable to recover their bodies due to intense enemy gunfire. He traveled with the DPAA team along the Laos/South Vietnam border on this mission to pinpoint the exact location of those remains. They went to the A Shau Valley, which was a hotbed of enemy activity in 1971.
Enemy documents captured at the time revealed that the communist North Vietnamese Army (NVA) placed nearly a dozen counter-recon companies in that valley to reinforce LZ (landing zone) watchers and to force locals to work with the communist soldiers. In addition, enemy estimates of troop strength in the A Shau Valley listed several infantry battalions as resting and training there. The communists moved at least two anti-aircraft artillery (AAA) battalions to defend the valley.
Laos is a dramatically different country today than it was when SOG recon teams were running clandestine, top-secret missions 44 years ago. Amidst the beautiful, steep mountains with deep, lush valleys, streams, and double- and triple-canopy jungle, primitive farmers still use slash-and-burn agriculture techniques. Three Green Beret A-camps were driven from the valley between 1965 and '66. Today, there is at least one hotel near the A Loui airstrip.
In 1971, although communists in North Vietnam had signed a treaty agreeing not to station or train soldiers in Laos and Cambodia, there were more than 60,000 communist soldiers and couriers in Laos alone. The A Shau Valley bristled with NVA armaments and equipment supplied to North Vietnam by Russia, China, and other Eastern Bloc countries.
On February 18, 1971, two recon teams assigned to SOG base of operations in Da Nang, Command and Control North, were designated to run a diversionary mission along the A Shau Valley. Their mission was to tie down NVA enemy forces using air strikes while gathering any military intelligence possible 
from enemy soldiers and local Laotians pressed into service with the NVA.
Because of the dangerous nature of this mission, two additional Green Berets were assigned to RT Intruder: SFC Sammy Hernandez and SFC Charles "Wes" Wesley. The team leader was Capt. Ronald L. "Doc" Watson, the assistant team leader, was Sgt. Allen R. "Baby Jesus" Lloyd, and Sgt. Raymond L. "Robby" Robinson was the radio operator. RT Python, with team leader Capt. Jim Butler was inserted on the other side of the A Shau Valley.
Both teams were inserted without incident. RT Intruder, with five Green Berets and five Bru Montagnard team members, moved off the LZ in search of a trail that was near a ridgeline. After moving for a short while, with NVA trackers moving behind them firing signal shots into the air, RT Intruder came across a large trail, crossed it, set up a team security perimeter, and took note of about a dozen separate communications lines lying on the wide trail.
As the team worked with the forward air controller - codenamed Covey - to determine if it was on the correct hill, five enemy soldiers moved down the trail hunting for the team. After a brief firefight, which killed the five NVA soldiers, team leader (One-Zero) Capt. Watson called for an extraction because the team had been compromised. Wesley and Hernandez had also recovered several 
NVA documents, medals, clothing, and a communist flag from the dead soldiers. They stuffed the spoils of war into a rucksack.
As the team waited for helicopters from Company A (the Comancheros) of the 101st Aviation Battalion, 101st Airborne Division of Camp Eagle, Phu Bai, bad weather started to close in on the ridgeline and the team's LZ. The first chopper started to lift Wesley, Robinson, and two Bru team members out of the LZ when it began to lose power. The four men jumped from the ladder they had started to climb, landing on the dead NVA soldiers they had killed a few minutes earlier.
The helicopter crew had to cut loose the ladder. Because the mountainous air was thin, a second chopper had a difficult time lifting from the ridgeline, dragging the four-team members through the jungle before clearing the target area. A third chopper lifted out the three remaining Bru team members, carrying no more men due to weather and thin air conditions resulting from the height of the mountains. All three helicopters received heavy enemy ground fire.
As darkness closed in, CWO2 George P. Berg returned to the LZ to pick up the three remaining Green Berets. Crew chief Spec. 4 Walter Demsey and door gunner Gary L. Johnson lowered three STABO extraction harness rigs attached to ropes that were more than 100 feet long, to the trio of soldiers on the ground. (STABO harness rigs were designed by Special Forces during the war for extraction from the jungle when no landing zones were available.)
They hooked into the STABO rigs as Doc Watson gave the chopper crew the signal to lift out of the LZ. Berg began moving from the LZ when NVA gunfire slammed into the aircraft. Demsey and Johnson returned furious gunfire from their M-60 machine guns. Hernandez was lifted to approximately 
30-40 feet off the ground when his STABO rig snagged on a tree branch, snapping the rope that held him. The Green Beret fell to the ground, knocked unconscious.
He didn't hear NVA AAA fire slam into the Huey, literally knocking it out of the sky. The ill-fated helicopter traveled approximately 600 feet before it made an ugly U-turn and flipped over, crashing into the side of the mountain, bursting into flames and slamming Doc Watson and Baby Jesus Lloyd into the side of the cliff, killing them instantly.
Miraculously, Sammy Hernandez survived the fall. When he regained consciousness, he heard NVA soldiers and trackers searching for the men of RT Intruder. The stealthy jungle fighter moved silently into thick vegetation and hid throughout the night.
On February 19, RT Habu, led by one-zero SSG Danzer, was inserted into the target to recover the dead bodies - presuming that Hernandez was KIA. Other Green Berets on that mission included Cliff Newman; SSG James Woodham, a medic; SFC. Jimmy Horton; Sgt. Lemuel McGlothren; and SFC. Charles Wesley, who had been lifted out of the target the previous day. Wesley volunteered for the mission and put one of the six body bags and extra ammo in his rucksack.
The expanded RT Habu was running a Bright Light mission - the deadliest of all SOG assignments because the NVA knew the Green Berets, in coordination with air assets from the Air Force, Marine Corps, and Army, would be willing to die to recover Americans killed in action. When recon teams ran Bright Light missions, they carried no food, minimal water, extra ammo, hand grenades, body bags, bandages, and emergency medical supplies.
Shortly after RT Habu was inserted, a chase helicopter with Green Beret Billy Waugh aboard spotted an American in an open area, flashing a bright-colored panel. It was Sammy Hernandez, who had crawled silently out of the thicket to the open area and signaled the helicopter crew and Waugh. It picked up Hernandez and flew him back to Phu Bai.
Back at the target area, Covey - an O-2A, twin-engine, light observation plane flown by Air Force 1st Lt. James (Woodstock) Hull with veteran recon man SFC Jose Fernandez flying in the right seat as Covey rider - located the crash site and directed RT Habu toward it, which was no easy task due to 
the thick jungle vegetation. For Fernandez, this was his second flight as a Covey rider after running recon for several years. Several times Hull flew the O-2A low, near tree-top level, to spot the team so Fernandez could move it through the thick jungle to the crash site.
As they vectored the team to the end of the cliff several hundred feet above the crash site, the O-2A was hit with heavy enemy gunfire. It crashed a few miles away, killing both Hull and Fernandez, which added another layer of grief to a Bright Light mission attempting to recover six dead Americans.
Thanks to Hull and Fernandez, though, RT Intruder located the crash site. They had to rappel down the cliff to reach it. Eventually, the team placed the bodies of Berg, Woods, Johnson, and one leg - which they assumed was Demsey's, as the rest of Demsey's body couldn't be located. These four body bags were stacked near the helicopter's frame to be lifted out by helicopter hoist in the morning.
Another grisly discovery was that of the bodies of Watson and Lloyd, hanging from trees on the cliff's face, still attached to their STABO rigs. Danzer determined that because night was falling, RT Habu should try to retrieve the bodies of the two recon men in the morning.
However, the NVA fiercely attacked RT Habu in the morning, wounding several team members. Meanwhile, a few miles away, Capt. Fred "Lightning" Wunderlich and three men from his recon team rappelled from a CH-53 helicopter onto the crashed O-2A. They confirmed that Hull and Fernandez were dead. The team recovered Fernandez's body from the wreckage, but they couldn't recover Hull because the front engine of the O-2A had pinned him into the aircraft.
Across the A Shau Valley, Capt. Jim Butler and RT Python had been embroiled in intense combat with other NVA units in fighting so intense that assistant team leader 
SSG Les Chapman fought hand-to-hand with NVA soldiers. Butler had used Stinger, Spectre gunships, F-4 Phantom jets, A-1 Skyraiders, and numerous gunships from several helicopter units assigned to support SOG missions during that team's time on the ground.
Today, the six Americans are among the 1,627 service members who are still listed as missing in action from the Vietnam War. They are among the more than 83,000 U.S. service members who remain missing in action today collectively from WWII, Korea, and Vietnam. People familiar with this mission concede that approximately 51,000 of those service members are listed as missing over water - both Navy personnel and aviators.
Under the new consolidation plan, DPAA will bring three previous federal operations together under one command: The Defense POW/Missing Personnel Office (DPMO), the Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command (JPAC), and the Air Force's Life Sciences Equipment Laboratory at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio. A decision on the DPAA's permanent headquarters location will be made by early next year.
On June 19, Secretary of Defense Ash Carter announced the Department of Defense Executive Service appointment of recently retired Lt. Gen. Michael S. Linnington as director of the DPAA. Linnington, a 33-year Army veteran, previously served as the military deputy to the undersecretary of defense for personnel and readiness in Washington, D.C.
To date, in 2015, the remains of 39 service members have been located and returned to the U.S. Twenty-six from the Korean War, seven from World War II, and seven from the Vietnam War. Of special concern to Green Berets like Cliff Newman are the remains of 51 Green Berets and approximately 250 Airmen who were lost in Laos during the eight-year secret war in Vietnam and are listed as missing in action, as the highly acidic soil of Southeast Asia attacks their remains.
In 2003, Newman, Wesley, and McGlothren returned to Southeast Asia to work with the Joint Task Force for Cull Accounting to locate the six Americans. That mission ended without locating them. Newman returned with a dedicated, hard-working DPAA recovery team earlier this month. However, that effort, too, failed to pinpoint the location of the six Americans' remains.
Newman said he could not comment to SOFREP on that mission until he completes an after-action report on that mission for DPAA officials. However, he did praise the DPAA team. He worked within the field. "All I can say is, I'll gladly go back to help find them, that's the least I can do," Newman said. "However, I'm not getting any younger."
One positive note: Hull's remains were recovered nine years ago, and formal burial service was held for him in Arlington National Cemetery in 2006.
Korea has been much in the news lately, from North Korea's efforts to gain nuclear weapons technology to rapidly mounting those weapons on intercontinental ballistic missiles. There were also threats of war at President Donald Trump's meeting with the North Korean leader supreme leader Kim Jong-un. More meetings will be conducted soon between the two leaders.
Sixty-eight years ago, the Korean War began and threatened to turn into WW III. Here are five basic facts, some small, some large about the Korean War.
Prisoners of War
Tens of thousands of South Korean troops were taken prisoner by the North during the war. Many never returned south. Most are presumed dead, though word has gotten through that a large number still live as senior citizens in North Korea to this day.
Likewise, many North Korean and Chinese were taken prisoner by American, South Korean, and United Nations troops. Unlike the unfortunate South Koreans, many of these captured men survived the war. Surprisingly, most (not all) wanted to return to their native countries when the war ended. One reason was patriotism, but another reason was the fear of what would happen to their families should they decide to stay in the South.
Almost ten thousand US and Allied troops were taken prisoner during the war. It was not an easy captivity. They were given bare rations and sometimes tortured, both physically and psychologically. The men who came home from the North Korean POW camps were never the same.
It is estimated that close to 900 U. servicemen listed as "Missing in Action" during the war were taken prisoner and never returned home. According to a 1996 NY Times article, several of them were still alive at the end of the 20th century.
Half a Million KIA in Korea
The Korean War lasted three years. It was a bloody, miserable conflict. Though every war has its share of misery, it should be remembered that in those three years, the United States lost over 40,000 men, its UN allies close to 5,000, while the Chinese and North Koreans lost close to half a million.
Korea saw tactics both old and new. Initially, the war was fought in a very fast, mobile style. North Korean troops drove down the length of the peninsula. In the Allied counter-attack that followed, the US and UN troops moved northward rapidly.
Visions of WWI Past
Shortly after the intervention of China in late 1950, the war settled down into what many compared to the trench warfare of WWI. Many troops hunkered down in thousands of trenches, dugouts, and other fortifications. From 1951 onwards, the Korean War was fought along a line that barely moved in two years.
Jet Fighters & New Tactics
That doesn't mean that there wasn't innovation. During the war, the jet fighter came of age. This changed both the nature of air combat and how ground troops interacted with air support. A new tactic was employed for the 1950 invasion of Inchon.
General MacArthur led an amphibious invasion, miles behind enemy lines to cut off lines of supply and troops in the South. This maneuver had recently been perfected in the American campaigns in the Pacific and Italy in WWII.
With WWII only some five years in the past, paratroops were an innovation too. The United States employed brigade-sized paratroops during the conflict, each of the six major drops supplying knowledge to be used in the future.
Atomic Option
One of the major questions looming over the Korean conflict was whether nuclear weapons would be used. The war took place at the beginning of the Atomic Age, just five years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Although people knew the weapons were terrible, the complete ramifications of atomic bombs had not quite sunk in.
The United States was prepared to use nuclear weapons during the conflict, at least at the beginning. This was a time when the Soviet Union had only just exploded its first A-bomb a year or so previously, when inter-continental missiles did not exist and when the US bomber force dwarfed that of the USSR.
Doctrine in the US at the time included the use of nukes in any major conflict - especially ones they were losing, and the first phase of the Korean War did not go well for America and its allies.
The decision not to drop the bomb was influenced by a lot of factors. Primary among them was the fear of a war-torn Europe that any use of nukes would result in a Soviet invasion of Western Europe, which in turn would result in more nukes. Of course, the massive loss of life which would follow any nuclear strike was a factor, as was setting a nuclear precedent.
The war ended essentially where it began: along the 38th parallel that had divided North and South Korea in 1950. Peace talks went on for almost two years, marked by bizarre negotiating tactics from the North Koreans and Chinese. When the war finally ended, it was due to a "truce," rather than a treaty.
January 21, 1953 - Korea - Winter War. Night fighter team "George" of composite squadron three (VC-3) operating from USS Oriskany (CVA-34) in the Sea of Japan.
Excerpt from combat report:
Saw 75-100 trucks on G-3, seven trucks seen damaged. Meager to intense AA, much rifle fire was seen. The plane hit by 30 cal. Item - Lt. James L. Brown, USNR assigned F4U-5N #124713. One-night landing aboard without incident. 2.6 combat hours.
Combat strike report comments, like that above, were distilled from the intelligence officers debriefing of pilots from returning strikes and later filed with higher command. They, in turn, used these reports from the pilots who flew the combat missions, and reported what happened, to plan later strikes, select subsequent targets, and subject to political considerations, the overall conduct of the war. Seldom did they tell what happened.
It was just as well. Here is what really happened that night.
Two-night fighters of team "George" were on the catapult and already connected. Two others were waiting behind them. They would be launched as the fleet had completed turning into the wind and attained sufficient speed to launch planes. On one of the other carriers, its night fighters were going to be on a similar night mission and awaited their launch as well. The third aircraft carrier was at "flight quarters" and available to land planes should there be an emergency. Behind and to the right of each carrier was a "plane guard" destroyer and an airborne helicopter whose jobs were for rescue should a catapult fail, and one of the catapulted planes crash into the icy water.
The flight leader and his wingman were each given the signal for maximum power. They would be catapulted close together, one from each side of the flight deck, to immediately join in formation after becoming airborne and continue towards North Korea.
It would still be daylight when they reached Korea. They planned to stay out of anti-aircraft range until it was dark on the ground and would fly in a loose two-plane section at low altitude down the valleys between the surrounding peaks to look for any North Korean trucks, tanks, troops, or other enemy traffic that might be on the roads. Then, kill them.
Suddenly, as both two remaining planes were at full power ready to be catapulted, smoke billowed from one of their engine cowlings and exhaust stacks. Thick black oil blown back from the propeller blast streamed down the side of the fuselage. The pilot immediately shut down his engine, unlocked his safety belt and shoulder harness as he hurriedly exited the cockpit.
Abandoning his plane, he ran behind it across the flight deck to the safety of the catwalk at its edge to the steel walkway a few feet below. The propeller had hardly stopped turning before plane handlers hurriedly disconnected the plane from the catapult and pushed it to the flight deck elevator. It would be repaired later on the hangar deck.
In the meantime, Grumman F9F-5 Panther jets were returning early from late afternoon missions. They had made repeated attacks on a difficult and heavily defended target. Low on fuel, they needed to land immediately. Because the two other scheduled night pilots had already been catapulted and departed on their mission, it was quickly decided to send the remaining pilot on a single plane mission into North Korea.
Had he not been immediately catapulted, Oriskany's plane handlers would have been required to detach his plane from it. Then, rapidly clear the deck to take jets aboard by taking his plane down to the hanger deck, land the jets, rearrange or re-spot other planes on the deck and later send the originally scheduled two planes out late on their mission. That is if the damaged plane could be repaired on time and became flyable.
KA-WHOOM! He was immediately catapulted alone into the late afternoon sky.
Because the jets returned before their scheduled recovery time that forced the night fighters early launch, it meant they would arrive on target earlier than planned. Night fighters were forbidden to arrive over the target area during daylight hours because enemy gunners on the ground readily recognized the special random configuration built into the right-wing of the F4U-5N Corsair.
After Lt. Brown had been hit by anti-aircraft fire on a volunteer, day spotting mission for the USS Los Angeles, night fighters flew only at night. With their hatred of the night pilots who strafed, burned, and bombed after dark, every enemy gun available was trained on them anytime one of those planes were recognized.
Because of this, should a night heckler arrive early or during daylight hours, the pilot was ordered to remain at sea and out of anti-aircraft range until it became dark on the ground. Only then was he to continue and conduct his assigned mission.
That misguided operational instruction caused fatalities that Brown did not accept. He knew from experience that he would be seen by enemy radar and plotted on their communication grid. This would have alerted them to his exact track and arrival time. Every anti-aircraft gun in the area would have been ready and pointing right at him as soon as he crossed the coast. Like many pilots, he ignored this direct order, drastically changed course, and entered North Korean airspace far from his briefed target.
The late afternoon sun was brilliant and the sky without any clouds when he reached Korea. Although very cold that time of year, with the normal bad weather regularly experienced at sea, this was a welcome change. The temptation was just too much for him.
Korea was going to be seen personally, low, and up close. During daylight.
Out of radar range from both the American Navy, the Korean enemy, and while still out at sea, he dropped down low over the waves to cross the coast a few feet over the sand. He was in North Korean airspace. No anti-aircraft fire found him. "Hot damn!"
North Korea in the back country looks much like Scotland because of its low mountains, deep valleys, and sparse trees. Patches of snow remained in the low spots and gullies. With no haze or the smoke and fire of war, it looked like the scene on a picture postcard. Low, blue-tinted mountains in the distance, slightly rolling hills where he flew, and sunlight reflecting off the remaining snow with the promise of peace and better days, war seemed far away.
In the distance, a road beckoned to be explored just for the fun of it. He flew lower below treetop level and maneuvered the heavy bomb-laden fighter plane over the roadway.
Experiencing the sheer pleasure of flight without trying to kill someone or fly into an anti-aircraft nest or mountain in the dark, he began to relax for the first time in months.
If this was against orders to not "hedge hop," who was to know? No one knew where he was anyway. For that matter, neither did he.
As his plane continued a few feet above the roadway, over the crest of a low hill, then down and up the other side, he was startled to see a company of troops walking in the middle of the road.
As he roared past a few feet over their heads, some who had heard him coming dived into the ditches. Then, rolling on their backs began firing their weapons at him as he passed. Later, he would remember clearly seeing their muzzle flashes. All the enemy soldiers dived for the ditches except one. He simply stood where he was in the middle of the road, put his rifle to his shoulder, and commenced firing. He continued to stand alone in the road, firing repeatedly at the oncoming plane that was flying towards him at eye level. Brown could clearly see the muzzle flashes.
As the aircraft passed a few feet over the soldier's head, he could not believe what he had just seen. He commenced a gentle left turn back to the road, reduced power, and lowered his flaps to fly as slowly as his ordnance load would allow looking at this man again. Then, following the same flight path, he made a second approach on the lone soldier standing in the middle of the road. He found himself fascinated, counting the enemy soldier's muzzle flashes.
They were eye level as the airplane again flew up the slight hill at 180 knots towards the soldier who stood erect in the road and continued measured fire, one shot at a time.
Just like the story of a snake hypnotizing a bird, Jim could not take his eyes off the soldier. Firing at him! Unbelievable! Flash! Thunk. Flash! Flash! Thunk. Ping. Flash!
With all the firepower available at his command, it was sufficient to destroy a good size town.
Much less one man. This was truly incredible. Amazed by what had just happened, "Goliath" continued to his night mission without firing a single shot at that lone "David".
Brown's plane carried a full belly tank with 200 gallons of high-octane aviation gasoline that had he dropped it would have engulfed the entire company of soldiers in flames. His wing cannons housed 800 rounds of high explosive incendiary 20-mm shells that upon impact explode with a green flash and are as destructive as hand grenades. In addition, he carried six 260-pound fragmentation bombs with devices on the fuses that make them explode three feet above ground, and a 500-pound general-purpose bomb that was sufficient to take out a sizeable bridge or blow over a locomotive. One burst from his cannon could have killed the entire company.
The man must have been insane, or infuriated. He simply stood erect in the middle of the road and continuously fired his rifle at the plane.
The remaining mission was as recorded in the combat report given to Navy debriefing officers.
Jim did later damage or destroy seven trucks with bombs and cannon fire, probably killed upwards of 100 or more troops in them (if trucks did not explode, they were likely carrying troops as well as supplies because they were never empty). He dodged in and out of anti-aircraft fire as reported, and still wondered about that North Korean soldier who was the bravest man he ever saw. Maybe that lone North Korean soldier was just fed up with war, or just like Jim, fed up with war too.
The following morning, after landing back aboard Oriskany late that night, he personally inspected his airplane for combat damage as he did after every mission. However, this time he found "George" team mechanics looking at bullet holes and commencing to remove the engine cowling. The left-wing flap had already been removed for repair.
There were holes in the engine cowling that appeared to be from a 30-caliber rifle bullet. These were straight from and level with the nose of the aircraft, which indicated he was hit when he was flying below the level of the soldier on the road. Some bullets had gone between the blades of the four-bladed propeller, entered the cowling just below eye level, bent a cylinder fin, and then bounced off the carburetor. An inch, either way, would have brought the plane down.
As he had passed overhead, the soldier, or another in the ditches, put a bullet through the left flap. Had it been twelve inches to the right, would have put it in his body.
The Corsair was designed for air combat with other planes. It carried no armor plate under the pilot. The armor plate was only at the pilot's back.
Jim, no doubt, had a guardian angel.
Maybe the Korean soldier did too.
There is a good number of published accounts about the war in Vietnam. They come from many sources - from combatants of all the countries involved, and from civilians from all walks of life. A considerable number of these books are fictional in nature, novels, or short stories showcasing characters in many situations that may or may not have been inspired by actual events. A significant number of non-fiction accounts are also available. Run Through the Jungle: Real Adventures in Vietnam with the 173rd Airborne Brigade by Larry J Musson belongs to the elite league.
Run Through the Jungle is a first-hand account of the combat in South Vietnam, as experienced by Larry Musson and other members of the 173rd Airborne Brigade. A riveting tale, this book is narrated by an equally compelling man. A man who found joy in writing at a young age and used 
said joy to give us a detailed page-turner in Run Through the Jungle.
Larry Musson, no doubt a hero in the minds of many, was born in Shelbyville, Illinois. He grew up in Elwood and was a member of the class of '67 of Joliet East High School. A couple of years later, after a year of junior college, the author volunteered for airborne training and finished Jump School at Fort Benning, Georgia. This is where he received his orders for the 173rd Airborne Brigade to serve in the Republic of South Vietnam - the place that would ultimately provide the inspiration for this captivating book.
The stories from Run Through the Jungle are true accounts of what Larry and other members of his Airborne company went through. They were initially recounted via handwritten letters to a lover back home. The letters, sadly, never survived by the time of the writing of the novel. However, Larry Musson's experiences were so raw, so vivid that he had no problem committing them to paper.
In the pages of this book, you too will experience what it was like to run through the jungles of South Vietnam. You will live through intense temperature changes. You will feel what it's like to push through a day of extreme monsoon rains. You will experience physically demanding conditions while searching for or avoiding the enemy in unfamiliar territories.
Narrated with gripping details, this book is more than just an account of the military conflict. It is also an accurate depiction of the humanity behind the war. In it, the author tells us stories of good leaders, intense moments of bravery, and brotherhood forged under the unfriendliest of fires.
Reader Reviews
This is a terrific account of a close-in firefight after firefight. The reader travels along with troops on one endless hump after an endless hump. The soul-crushing heat and humidity, clever booby traps designed to mutilate, Monsoons bringing relentless rain, day and night soaked to the bone. Rain so vicious you can't see or hear the NVA, 5 feet from your face. Giant Tigers were stalking our soldiers as they stalk the NVA. Close friends mutilated and killed, why survivors push on, no time to morn, just stay in the fight.
In closing, I was a Marine grunt chasing the VC 1965/66. We carried M14's and never came out of the field never! There was no rear area resupply was a joke. Absolutely no Huey's, our uniforms rotted off, and we were expected to fix them with com wire. I guess it was a different war?
~ Jug Head, Amazon Client Verified Purchase
I was impressed by the author's straight forward presentation. Many of the other Vietnam memoirs I have read the author has used to brag about his own great feats, whereas this author presented a good storyline that was not a bragger's tribute to himself. I was a little disappointed to find out the girlfriend married someone else, but that was quite common and continues to happen all too often to our military people who have to be away on duty.
~ Edith Lesh
I enjoyed reading Larry Musson's account of his year in Vietnam, surviving as a member of an airborne army unit in the bush. Sgt Musson's writing style reads so easily and brings you along with him on his journey. Overall a great balance of small daily events and dangerous moments fighting the enemy. His story shares his frustrations with incompetent leaders and mistakes made that put at risk soldiers' lives. Yet He tells of good leaders and sacrifices made by many with men wounded and killed fighting for each other. A wonderful book! Thanks, Larry, for sharing your story with us.
~Joe Capuano, Jr.
About the Author
Larry Musson is a lifelong resident of Illinois, born in Shelbyville, grew up in Elwood, graduated from Joliet East High School, class of '67, and attended Joliet Junior College.
He served in the U.S. Army with the 173rd Airborne Brigade as a Sergeant during the Vietnam conflict. His decorations include the Bronze Star, Air Medal, the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry, Vietnamese Service and Campaign Ribbons, the Combat Infantry, and Parachute Badges.
After returning home, he worked for Mobil Oil for thirty-five years, retiring from ExxonMobil in 2007. He is a life member of the 173rd Airborne Association, VFW, and member of the American Legion. He was always proud of his service in the Army. In 2015, Larry wrote and published a book about his experiences during the Vietnam War. Larry and his wife Patti reside in rural Manhattan, IL, where they raised three children who blessed them with six grandchildren.