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Sincerely Fallbrook: A Veteran of the "Forgotten War" remembers

On a brick wall downtown hangs a modest engraving dedicated "to all Korean War Veterans."

This is the Fallbrook Veterans Honor Roll, where a mosaic of plaques pay tribute to the men and women who survived America's wars, and beneath the Korean War dedication is a reminder of that conflict's regrettable title: "The Forgotten War." Several branches of a bougainvillea vine have grown over this side of the memorial.

"Forgotten" is a word to haunt those who have suffered and sacrificed. The veterans I've known cherish the memory, if not of their own exploits or their pain, then of the heroism of their friends and the urgency of their cause. They don't enjoy being the object of celebration, but are always ready to celebrate their history, their ideals, and one another. They especially love to remind us what they fought to protect.

The free people of the United States, in return, celebrate Veterans Day, which as a national gesture means both, "Thank you for your service," and, "We are listening."

That day is today. Since there will be no parade in Fallbrook, I offer you this memory.

Harold Bowling was raised in Fort Collins, Colorado, the son of a furniture seller. He is now 88 years old and doesn't remember as much as he might like. But certain things about war you never forget.

"It was very cold in Korea," Bowling told me when we wandered back into his past together last week. "My legs were cold, and we didn't have proper equipment. We used to tie gunny sacks around our legs to keep warm."

He was just out of high school, stationed aboard the USS Redstart, a minesweeper in the Yellow Sea. Occasionally the Redstart would trade fire with North Korean forces on the shore, but its usual duty was clearing submerged mines.

If you've never learned about minesweeping, it went like this: The ship dragged a line to cut the cables mooring the buoyant mines. When they bobbed to the surface, the crew would detonate the mines by shooting them with the deck guns.

"One time, our ship got tangled up in one of the cables, so we each wrapped ourselves with the safety equipment to keep us from getting burned, then we waited in our bunks," Bowling recalled, offering one of his most vivid memories. "I could hear the mine cable come scraping down the ship, right on the other side of my bunk."

Besides trawling in mine-infested waters, the minesweepers had to sail slowly in a straight line, and were often under fire from the shore.

But the cold – the brutal, relentless, wind-driven chill that eventually stung every man who fought in Korea – that raw cold is what Bowling still feels.

After more than two years of service on the USS Redstart, he developed a circulatory failure in his legs as a result of exposure and was sent across to Japan for surgery.

For Bowling, it would mean the end of combat duty – and the beginning of his life as a family man.

Given his choice of duties after medical leave, he chose the Philippines, where his brother was stationed. The Navy put Bowling, the son of a businessman, in charge of the Exchange on the naval base in Subic Bay. He was 21.

Among his employees at the big retail store on base was a pretty young Filipino cashier named Trinie. Bowling fell in love with her, but it would be decades before he learned the full extent of her own war exploits – which he happily admits eclipsed his own in both their valor and tactical significance.

As a young teenager during World War II, she risked death for years to spy and report on the occupying Japanese forces for the Filipino freedom fighters. She hid in caves, dodged bullets in the jungle and lost friends in the resistance.

The wars behind them, Harold and Trinie Bowling were married in 1953, moved to the U.S. two years later, arranged Trinie's citizenship in 1964, and moved to Fallbrook in 1979. They raised two daughters, and as of today what began between two veterans in Subic Bay has grown to include 13 grandchildren.

Shortly before Trinie Bowling died in February 2009, then-President George W. Bush awarded her a presidential pin and spent some time visiting with her at a ceremony at Travis Air Force Base. She had dedicated her life in the United States to working for the freedoms she perhaps saw more clearly for having grown up elsewhere.

"So this is the little lady everybody has been telling me about," Bush is reported to have said.

"I tell you, Tom, she loved America like you wouldn't believe," Harold told me. "The government called and said they wanted to give her a pension for the rest of her life, and she said, 'You can't give me a dime, I did it for America.'"

Marcia Mervich, Bowling's daughter, said that as a veteran's daughter, she is concerned with passing on the stories and especially the battle-tested beliefs of those who sacrificed for freedom.

"They knew what the mission was: it was about freedom, and especially today, freedom is so precious," said Mervich. "I remember my mom always saying, 'America is the best country in the whole world,' and it was because of freedom. This generation did these things because they wanted to be free."

For years, I have only known Bowling as the sweet, soft-spoken gentleman who sits in the fourth row from the front at Emmanuel Baptist Church. He relies on a walker, but so do most who live to see 88. My point is that you don't know the stories until you ask.

"I never lost my faith," said Bowling. "When I was on the minesweeper and they were shooting at us, I just prayed."

As for Trinie, also a devout Christian, "When she was dying, all she would say is, 'God is good. God is good.' She died saying that."

As a patriot and a man of faith, Bowling looks back on his experiences with the satisfaction that God was guiding him all the way. And yet, approaching 90 years – surely nine of the strangest decades in history – I sense that for Bowling the things of earth grow strangely dim.

What has happened to our country? What of the freedoms so dearly earned? What becomes of us? They are good questions to ask on Veterans Day. We are listening.

Tom Pfingsten is the Associate Pastor of Emmanuel Baptist Church in Fallbrook and a long-time local journalist. He can be reached at [email protected].

 

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