Don’t Move the Damn Truck
Some places just whisper a story to me.
Ed’s dad, Wesley, had fought in the 6th Marine Corp during World War II, and Ed wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps. But after the carnage of that war, no one in America really believed there’d ever be another “hot” war. Now it was all a “cold” conflict with the Western democracies and the Soviets staring at each other over an Iron Curtain. Ed figured he’d live out his life “uneventfully” helping his dad run the general store that Wesley started in Emporia after his discharge, and fixing old run down trucks for fun.
Until Sunday, June 25, 1950 when the Korean People’s Army (KPA) crossed the 38th parallel.
No sooner had John Cameron Swayze announced that event on television than Ed enlisted in the Marines; he was assigned to the 7th Marine Regiment. He had a long talk with his dad – would he tell mom? Ed didn’t want to tell her and see her cry. Wes kidded him, “Damn son, let me get this straight – you’re gonna be a Marine but you’re afraid to tell your mom goodbye?” Ed made his dad promise he would he hold off on fixing that truck until Ed came back.
After his enlistment, boot camp and training, Ed’s division was shipped to Korea, and in March 1952 the division was moved to the Jamestown Line – the main line of resistance against the KPA and the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army (PVA). In October hordes of troops would bombard and try to overrun that line where the Marines were outnumbered both in number of combatants and firepower. The ensuing battle would be recorded as the Battle of the Hook. At times the attack was so fierce that the Marines organized what became known as “clutch platoons” of cooks, men from the motor transport pool, and even clerks from office personnel to aid in the fight. In one attack on position “Ronson” (so named because a Marine had lost his lighter there one night on patrol) the Marines were overrun. No one survived the attack.
The carnage continued for several hours but the Marines held out and eventually pushed the attacking forces back. The Leatherneck’s had 82 men killed, 386 wounded, and 27 MIA. Ed was among the MIA.
Wesley and his wife had never heard that phrase – Missing In Action. For years they held onto the hope that their son had been taken prisoner, that he would return. The truck and the little shop where he and Ed had stored parts, and sometimes would drink a few beers (“But your mom can’t know, she being a Baptist and all..”), just sat there. To fix the truck or move it would be an admission that their son wasn’t coming home, and they couldn’t bear that pain.
When Wes was on his death bed he told his wife, “Don’t move the damn truck.” And she didn’t. So it still sits there, beside the shop.
