(Editor’s Note: Years ago when scanning the membership list it seemed to us that there were only 12 current members with numbers below 100. We suggested to Ye Treas that he do a “short article” on the 12 — the “Dirty Dozen?” – – and he eventually responded with this happily long report on the dozeneer he knows best. We note that there are now less than 12 living — let us not dawdle, Forrest; please continue with long or short reports on the remaining low number folk. PDQ. To ye readers, we urge a review of all the fictional war stories you have ever encountered; here is a true one that makes Hemingway seem contrived. As it happens, Ye Ed was an infantryman in the Pacific in WW II (7th Div) and in Korea (3rd Div) and will bear witness that Calkins speakes the truth).
As I sat in my living room one chilly rainy April evening last month with a cold drink on the table, and a bright, cheery fire going in the fireplace, I was engaged in my favorite pasttime — going through my war covers of World War II and the Korean War, many of which were given to me by good friends or Army buddies. This particular evening I was examining my Korean War covers – a few sent to my parents by myself from the 7th Infantry Division (The Hourglass Division), which was my alma mater in both World War II and the Korean War. As I glance at the fire, it pops and crackles, and I imagine I see all kinds of figures, then suddenly, my imagination sees two North Korean soldiers with bayonets fixed heading straight for me. For a moment it seems so real that I lunge to the side of my chair and a cold sweat breaks out all over me. My wife, who is reading her favorite detective mystery, says, “You better go to bed, you are falling asleep in your chair again.” I go out onto the porch and listen to the rain as it patters down on the roof, and my mind goes back to this same porch some 28 years ago, where my wife and I and our infant daughter sat one evening in late June, enjoying the lovely breeze that had just come out of the west, dispelling the heat of the day. I had just returned from three weeks on active duty with the Army Reserve, and had been offered a commision as captain if I would go onto active duty status; I had said I would have to think about it. The aroma of new-mown hay and flowers was very sweet, and I told my wife, “I have just made up my mind. I am going to get completely free of any military connections when my hitch runs out in a few months. This is the idea of peace and tranquillity, and what could be better than that?”
