perhaps the last important thing my grandfather said to me was "well, sean, i don't know what i'd do with a photo of a grave".
it was the last time i really had a chance to sit down and talk to him. probably some time around december 28, 2003. he died just under a year later, and i was stuck in seoul for financial and scheduling reasons. it sucked.
e.e. patterson was a sniper, i believe. if i'm correct about the number of people in a platoon in the princess patricia's canadian light infantry, he was one of about 25. he was the only one out of my grandfather's platoon who died, in that whole year of fighting in korea.
in the years after my grandmother died, and as his health started failing, grandpa started acting a little funny. the doctors said the symptoms, which included slight short-term memory loss, and vertigo were 'mini-strokes' that were brought on partially by his diabetes. i think. as usual, i don't do my research, so mom or somebody correct me on this.
the weirdest symptom to me was what looked like some form of senility. he'd talk. and talk. and forget what he'd said. and say it again. repeat himself. talk and talk and talk about the battle of gapyeong, vimy ridge, those 'stupid jerk american generals' and other things i'd heard before. because it was my grandpa talking i was fine with it... but anyone else may have written him off as a man drifting off into senility.
"e.e. patterson", he'd say, "e.e. patterson is my only regret". the way i remember it, he had no choice. he had to send this 23 year old boy into a hairy area where the chances of him getting smoked were much greater than the chances of him surviving. some chinese guy smoked him, and there was nothing my gramps could do.
later, he met a man he didn't remember at a korean veterans' association function. "are you jerry richard? you saved my life!". the soldier told him the story of how a higher-up had ordered him to go into a dangerous area... grandpa said "don't go in there, you stupid jerk, it's crawling with chinese!" the guy didn't go, my grandpa got in shit from the top brass, and the guy is still alive. or at least he was 3 or so years ago to tell grandpa.
sitting with grandpa in his kitchen he'd go over the rolls of all his men, and he'd look at that entry 'e.e. patterson' and tell me what a good kid he was. clearly he had a profound sense of guilt for what he'd had to do. what do you do in war? the chances for making a flawed decision are so much greater than in real life. he made a decision, probably under serious duress from a higher officer, and the kid got killed.
he had wanted to go back to korea on a veterans' association jaunt and i think it was right after gramma died and he wasn't up to it emotionally or health-wise, and "besides, we bombed the hell out of that place. i wouldn't recognize any of it". but he did say he wanted to visit the UN cemetery in busan to pay his respects to e.e. patterson. i was talking with him about my upcoming sojourn in korea. i told him that since he couldn't do it, i would. he seemed pretty happy with that, but didn't want to see any pictures or documentation of it. "i don't know what i'd do with a photo of a grave". i was a little shocked to hear that out of his mouth at first, it made me realize just how bad he felt about this kid dying. he wanted to be a man and be respectful but he didn't want it hanging over his head any more than it already did.
so my grandfather died. i hadn't had a chance to get to busan yet and i felt shitty about that. however, i think this works out better. he's gone, and his guilt died with him. i was talking to another soldier, someone who'd seen action in iraq and somalia. i was talking about my grandpa's dilemma and he said "i feel for your grandfather, but what he needs to realize is that guilt is totally useless, especially in battle".
great idea, but try imparting that wisdom on someone who is 1. a hero and 2. 85 years old. maybe he'd listen but i would much rather walk up to one of the dudes in slayer and ask if they need a guitar lesson. a far less daunting task.
so i went, and i took this soldier's advice. he said to go to e.e. patterson's grave, pay some sort of tribute. thank him, because without his efforts, there'd be a whole bunch of korean kids speaking chinese right now and living the life of oppression and poverty north korean kids do. i didn't have access to a poppy, but i think that if e.e. patterson and grandpa had been watching they'd think that was okay.
at the gravesite i was just swimming with all these angry thoughts - mostly to do with being in a place where so many people died and sacrificed to save the ass of this fucked up little arse of a country. in this cemetery alone there are something like 2000 graves of australians, canadians, turks, britons, thais, americans... such a disparate group of people coming to this place that so few people know or give a shit about.
but also i was filled with this sense that my grandfather died shouldering this burden - a real, yet useless and undermining burden - and nobody had the sense or power to take it away from him somehow. how do you grab and shake a stubborn old man and tell him to not feel something? you don't. it was frustrating to hear it from him, since he was this symbol of grit and strength for me my whole life.
so what did i accomplish today? what was this action designed to do? well, i got a chance to grieve my grandfather, perhaps i was more connected to him today than when my brother phoned me 2 minutes before class started to let me know he had collapsed and i didn't know what could possibly be up... but maybe i helped him shoulder something he couldn't accomplish when he was alive. i hope that's what i did.
against his wishes, i got a photo of the gravesite. he's not here to see it anymore so i had to at least get some sort of record of it. hell, maybe the family of emerson e. patterson read this blog.
