Recently, my travels found me in the home of a distinguished and most honorable person. That’s me talking as I’m sure he would not say so; though I had only known him for about 25 minutes. I won’t tell you how this meeting came to be, or his name, just that he was born in 1926 and his work for our country was back before, during, and after the Korean War. I’ll call him BB.

His daughter explained when I met him to speak facing directly at him as over time his hearing has waned but he naturally became good at lip reading. His demeanor made him immediately likable.

After our business was conducted, he said he had something to show me; a “history lesson”. When I saw what he was showing me, I asked permission to take these photos to share them on Facebook (an online as I am here). They agreed.

I asked if any newspaper had written anything about BB she said no, and that much of his service work is still “classified”. OK, she didn’t quite say it like that. She said something more like, “when you enter his name in a computer you can get just so much information and then the computer sets off “alarms” and a red screen appears stating that “you need to leave now”; or some such thing. I got the message.

He told me that he was first in the Navy, then in the Army (Air Force) and then was called back into the Navy for some special work; maybe that’s where the “red computer alarm screen” comes in to play.

He invited me to “touch” the flags but out of honor and respect and also knowing the age and fragility of the American Flag, I declined. (I noticed right away that it only had 48 stars. He told me he had been to Hawaii 3 times when it was a territory and hadn’t been back since). The flag had more holes in it than you can see in the picture plus at the end of the flag stripes, it was badly frayed from top to bottom.

In my thinking back now on my visit, I still feel awestruck. He told me how the holes came from enemy fire and how his commander gave him the responsibility to replace it with a new flag and burn it, he chose to keep it and has for all these years.

When he started to unfold the second flag and he told me it was 100% silk, I knew exactly what it was, and he had a story that went with this one too. He was in Okinawa fighting and got shot in the leg. His buddy saved his life by killing the shooter and he kept the Japanese flag. He told me how every Japanese fighter was sent into battle with their country’s flag. It’s been said a million and more times, but I’ll repeat it here, “war is hell”. Since he had invited me to touch the American Flag, I asked if I could get my picture with him holding the Japanese flag. When he agreed I asked his daughter to take a few for us.

He seemed especially proud though of the flag with the four stars embroidered on it. (Remember, everything was “quality” back then in those days and took time and skill to create). I didn’t know what he meant when he said “This was my mother’s flag”. I had never seen a “mother’s flag” before. He said that the stars were for each of her sons who were in the service. “I was the last one here on the bottom”. I asked if he and his brothers served together and he said “no:, and that “they were in the Army”. He added that he went in and finished the mess. This was the only time I detected a slight brevity of wit in his conversation.

He then invited me to a back room to where a picture of his ship hangs with that of his wedding. His image in his wedding picture to the left of his ship shows that he may have had the James Bond look, but his aged countenance revealed that he was more of just a “country boy” doing his job. I was told that his rank or position was someone you might call a “frogman” or a “seal”, that is, if those words had been invented back during his time. He was called for certain assignments because he could hold his breath for a very long time.

When I started that day, I never knew how it would be one of being graced with such an experience; that of meeting BB, a man with a lesson from history, and then to be able to “touch” a real part of that history. I wondered if perhaps by fate he may have known or met my dad who also fought in the Korean War, but I didn’t ask.

I thanked him for his service.

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