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Showing posts with label Korean War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Korean War. Show all posts

Sunday, September 15, 2013

September 15 is shaping up to be bigger than ever after FACEBOOK post by "Justified's" NICK SEARCY!

From #WalkingAwesome Nick Searcy's FACEBOOK page.  He will be joining me tomorrow night at the Egyptian Theater for the screening in original 3D of CEASE FIRE!


Sunday night, at the Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood, I will be introducing this film along with its curator, Resa LaRu Kirkland, by reading a moving article written by its producer, the great Hal Wallis, about the very emotional events that occurred during the filming of it. This rare 3D film has not been seen in over 50 years, and is the only film ever allowed by the Department of Defense to be shot using real American soldiers during a real war.



 You will never see anything like it, and the amazing real story of Pfc. Ricardo Carrasco will move you. I promise. Come if you can. 




You heard Nick...and remember, you don't want to mess with him... he's JUSTIFIED!!!

See you there!

Monday, September 09, 2013

WARCHICK is excited to announce that the awesomely awesome NICK SEARCY will be joining her onstage at 3D fest!

I'm schvitzing here!  And I'm not even Jewish (but I am a reasonable facsimile!)...!!!


 
 
 
 
 
 
Yes, that star of big and small screen, and the hit TV series JUSTIFIED will be joining me onstage as I talk about and introduce the 1953 Paramount Pictures film CEASE FIRE for 3D Film Expo on Sunday, September 15th!
 
 
 
 
 
I came to know Nick a couple of years ago as a member of the very exclusive yet growing and influential conservative groups in Hollywood.  Now THAT takes balls, and he has them in spades!
 
 
 
 
 He will be reading excerpts from the READER'S DIGEST article written by Hal Wallis in 1959 telling about Ricardo Carrasco and the making of the once-in-history fKorean War front line movie CEASE FIRE!
 
If you're in Burbank, come out and watch the show!  And kudos to Mr. Searcy, proving he truly is one fully JUSTIFIED bad ass and friend of freedom. 
 
 
More on Ricardo's story here and here.
 
 
 
 




Wednesday, August 07, 2013

WARCHICK's latest up at Politichicks! AMERICA'S LONGEST RUNNING WAR, 3 parts linked here!

Woo hoo!

I have a 3 part backgrounder on the evolution of the ongoing KOREAN WAR and America's involvement in it for over 6 decades now, up and ready at Politichicks.tv.  Links and parts are below!



***At the beginning of my forthcoming book on war hero Ricardo Carrasco entitled FORGOTTEN WARRIOR: Twice In One Day, I have a preface break-down of what led America into the Korean War, the Cold War and the importance to this day of our continued presence in and support of the Republic of Korea.  At the request of many who have graciously read the first chapters of my rough draft, I am publishing in parts this vital information in exclusively for readers of Politichicks.TV.  Given the daily appearance of North Korean aggression 60 years after the cease fire, causing the ongoing Korean War to be front page news again, this information is vital to anyone wanting to know how we got here and why it is important that we permanently eschew the nation-killing idea of "limited war.***



Excerpt:  But here is where frustration over this war took its first tentative root.  America and its allies had the North Koreans on the run back across the 38th and beyond.  So appeared the dilemma:  should we continue to push communism completely out of the country or stop at the 38th where it began?  The US couldn’t pass up the opportunity to unite Korea as one nation under the Republic, since the division had only been meant to be temporary while repairing the world after WWII.  This would also be a prime opportunity to send a clear message to the Soviets about the limits to what we, and supposedly the UN, would tolerate.  We had just finished castrating one TOTALitarian DICtator because we hadn’t nipped it in the bud before the world was set ablaze.  MacArthur understood the math of history, its patterns, and wasn’t about to repeat the same mistake less than a decade after the hard end of that horrific war.




Excerpt:  We have lost such men due to the emasculation that our embrace of Political Castration (never call it “correct,” for that is calling wrong right and evil good) has caused.  I am sorry for this, have rejected it, and have taught my sons and all who would listen to do the same.  We fear words now, and energy expended raging over what words we can and can’t use—in a nation of free speech, no less!—sucks our vigor and leaves us utterly wasted and impotent by the time actions are called for.  We are now an easily-conquered people; the mere fear of being accused of being racist, sexist, or some random “phobe” is all it takes to stop us from standing for truth.  This must not be in a land of Constitutionally-founded free speech; either words are free with the applicable responsibility or they aren’t.  We must not accept the confusion and unavoidable destruction that the policing of words, which leads to the mentally ill and inexorable idea that we can control thoughts, has wrought on every society in history that has accepted this curse that begins with the control of actions, then words, and always at last, thoughts.  ‘Tis the mathematical pattern of history, and we are not above the laws of math.  And this pattern has proven, again and again, that the difference between a free people and slaves is free will.  The minute we seek to control any God-given right we are in the territory of evil.

Friday, July 12, 2013

Thursday, July 11, 2013

WARCHICK on Dr. Gina Loudon radio show July 12, 2013, at 4:30 PM Mountain Time!

 
OK, LET'S TRY AGAIN!!!
 
I hope ya'all are ready for the show!  And be sure to catch Dr. Gina's appearance on CAVUTO!  If you can't find it, DEMAND IT!!  nyuk nyuk
 
 


 
 
Yes, we Hot Conservative Chicks hang together, and your own WARCHICK is hangin' with the hottest of the hot, Dr. Gina Loudon's Radio Show!!
 

 

 
 

Her radio show is nationally syndicated and wildly popular as one of the mouth watering babes of the Super Mega ULTRA HOT POLITICHIKS!
 
 
PolitiChick anchors Ann-Marie Murrell, Morgan Brittany & Dr. Gina Loudon
Simply Irresistable POLITICHIKS!
Ann-Marie Murrell, Morgan Brittany, Dr. Gina Loudon
 

 

Call in Number: 866-915-4809, listen from her website.... you'll hate yourself if you miss this!
 

Just in case you've been in a coma the past decade, here's a little about Dr. Gina, absorb the awesome of a dame that ROARS!

 
 
 
 
 
 

Dr. Gina Loudon has 2 Masters Degrees and a PhD in psychological fields (Psychology [WWU]; Counseling Education [SLU]; Human Development [FGU]; Human and Organizational Systems [FGU]). She is co-author of Ladies and Gentlemen: Why the Survival of our Republic Depends on the Revival of Honor. She is credited as one of the “100 Founding Members” of the Nationwide Tea Party movement, Founder of Arizona BUYcott, and originator of the field of Policology–the nexus of politics and psychology.

Dr. Gina does a radio show broadcast both terrestrially, and on this site daily. The Dr. Gina Show focuses on living well, and the psychological aspects of culture.

When Gina has done her small part to help to save the Republic, she plans to sail around the world with her family (and maybe a camera crew!)

Wife and mother of 5, one with Down Syndrome by the miracle of adoption.

“When you’re rushing out to buy my book, don’t miss the Dr. Gina Show every day…”
- Ann Coulter


“Don’t miss the Dr. Gina Show!”
– Michelle Malkin

“Dr. Gina Loudon is a one-woman force of nature!”
- Dr. Milton Wolf, Washington Times Columnist and Barack Obama’s Cousin

“One of the best minds in America today”
- Rev. C.L. Bryant, Creator, Runaway Slave Movie

“Dr. Gina is Awesome!”
- John Stossel

“If you’re diagnosed with liberalism, Dr. Gina will cure you.”
- Dick Morris

“She’s Fabulous!”
- David Limbaugh

“Dr. Gina, you are an Uncle Ted Spirit of the Wild blood brother.”
- Ted Nugent

“[She’s a] troublemaker and TEA party patriot.”
- Andrew Breitbart of Breitbart.com & BigGovernment.com

“Listen to the Dr. Gina Show or the baby seal gets it!”
- Fingers Malloy, FTRRadio.com

“She’s gorgeous! And she fights the good fight!”
-Pamela Geller, founder Atlas Shrugs, author, commentator



Tuesday, July 09, 2013

UPDATE!!!! WARCHICK on Dr. Gina Loudon radio show July 10, 2013, at 4:30 PM Mountain Time!

 
UPDATE!!!
 
My appearance has been moved to this Friday, July 12, 2013, at the same time.  Dr. Gina Loudon got a call this morning from FOX to appear on NEIL CAVUTO today discussing getting rid of the IRS (Yessssss!!!!).  Ah the troubles of being such a popular and in demand radio talk show host, and a FOX News favorite!  Be sure to tune in and watch her decimate the most evil organization since Stalin.  And just for fun, a WARCHICK archive article on the evil, Founding Fathers Forbidden income tax enacted 100 years ago this year as a reminder of our Politically Castrated Islammunist and out of control, in desperate need of firing by we the people, elected workers!
 
 
 
EXCERPT: 
The laws regarding Income Tax, first declared in 1861 to pay for the Civil War, expired in 1871, then tried again in 1894, ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court, took final and permanent hold in 1913 under Woodrow Wilson. (CAVEAT: Note the "temporary tax" to pay for the Civil War. America may have gotten a temporary reprieve from the ungodly tax, but the addiction had been triggered. THE LESSON? Never trust a "temporary tax." There is no such thing as temporary with the lucre possessed.)
Why?
Because

Wilson the Wicked and his followers promised that less than the top one percent of Americans would have to pay, and don’t you just want to stick it to those rich SOB’s? Wilson had the first Democratic Congress in 18 years, and through arm-twisting and good old class warfare, he made Mammon (Aramaic for "riches") our new God, and the law of the land its brutal enforcer. Had we stood our ground and said, "It’s just as wrong to tax my brother’s increase as it is to tax mine," we would not have the increasingly unconstitutional and crippling taxes that have people overwhelmed, overburdened, and enraged. The 1% in Wilson’s reign quickly became the vast, vast majority, and it took only a very few years for income tax to become the chief source of income for the government.
And these are the lucre addicts we continue to trust and enable? It now takes the average American until JULY before he is working for himself. In spite of the laws against slavery and indentured servitude, the income tax gave politicians the right to live off the sweat of your brow. It created the slave state, at least for half the year...
 
 
Watch Dr. Gina today and see ya'all Friday, 4:30 PM Mountain Time!!!

 
 
Yes, we Hot Conservative Chicks hang together, and your own WARCHICK is hangin' with the hottest of the hot, Dr. Gina Loudon's Radio Show!!
 

 

 
 

Her radio show is nationally syndicated and wildly popular as one of the mouth watering babes of the Super Mega ULTRA HOT POLITICHIKS!
 
 
PolitiChick anchors Ann-Marie Murrell, Morgan Brittany & Dr. Gina Loudon
Simply Irresistable POLITICHIKS!
Ann-Marie Murrell, Morgan Brittany, Dr. Gina Loudon
 

 

Call in Number: 866-915-4809, listen from her website.... you'll hate yourself if you miss this!
 

Just in case you've been in a coma the past decade, here's a little about Dr. Gina, absorb the awesome of a dame that ROARS!

 
 
 
 
 
 

Dr. Gina Loudon has 2 Masters Degrees and a PhD in psychological fields (Psychology [WWU]; Counseling Education [SLU]; Human Development [FGU]; Human and Organizational Systems [FGU]). She is co-author of Ladies and Gentlemen: Why the Survival of our Republic Depends on the Revival of Honor. She is credited as one of the “100 Founding Members” of the Nationwide Tea Party movement, Founder of Arizona BUYcott, and originator of the field of Policology–the nexus of politics and psychology.

Dr. Gina does a radio show broadcast both terrestrially, and on this site daily. The Dr. Gina Show focuses on living well, and the psychological aspects of culture.

When Gina has done her small part to help to save the Republic, she plans to sail around the world with her family (and maybe a camera crew!)

Wife and mother of 5, one with Down Syndrome by the miracle of adoption.

“When you’re rushing out to buy my book, don’t miss the Dr. Gina Show every day…”
- Ann Coulter


“Don’t miss the Dr. Gina Show!”
– Michelle Malkin

“Dr. Gina Loudon is a one-woman force of nature!”
- Dr. Milton Wolf, Washington Times Columnist and Barack Obama’s Cousin

“One of the best minds in America today”
- Rev. C.L. Bryant, Creator, Runaway Slave Movie

“Dr. Gina is Awesome!”
- John Stossel

“If you’re diagnosed with liberalism, Dr. Gina will cure you.”
- Dick Morris

“She’s Fabulous!”
- David Limbaugh

“Dr. Gina, you are an Uncle Ted Spirit of the Wild blood brother.”
- Ted Nugent

“[She’s a] troublemaker and TEA party patriot.”
- Andrew Breitbart of Breitbart.com & BigGovernment.com

“Listen to the Dr. Gina Show or the baby seal gets it!”
- Fingers Malloy, FTRRadio.com

“She’s gorgeous! And she fights the good fight!”
-Pamela Geller, founder Atlas Shrugs, author, commentator



Thursday, February 21, 2013

WARCHICK on the HAGMANN & HAGMANN radio show tonight!!!

Yes, you read that right!!! 



WARCHICK will be pontificating with the genius & widely known HAGMANNS' nightly radio show tonight, February 22, 8-11 PM EST, 5-8 PM PST, for all 3 hours.  Doug Hagmann & son JF Hagmann host the wildly popular nightly show, & invited me to join them for all 3 hours.

Listen, call in, we will be discussing the utterly unique story of RICARDO CARRASCO that is in negotiations now with several publishers & picking up speed fast.  While I won't name names, in the past month the story has even had 2 producers contacting me about the possibility of a movie based on the book.  (I know...I passed out for a second & I threw up a little...not pretty, but hey, who cares?)




We will also cover current topics involving North Korea & the things that are coming to pass in just the past few years, time permitting, & any surrounding issues.  This going to be super ultra mega fun & you'll learn a thing or two, just in time for this year being the 60TH ANNIVERSARY of the Korean War cease fire, the 60TH ANNIVERSARY of the making of the movie CEASE FIRE! by Paramount Pictures, the 60TH ANNIVERSARY of the release of the movie, & the 60TH ANNIVERSARY of Ricardo's ultimate sacrifice for his friends.









Miss this & I'm almost positive God will get you...

WHEN:  Friday, February 22, 8-11 PM EST/5-8 PM PST
WHERE:  Hagmann & Hagmann Report, Blog Talk Radio
WHO:  WARCHICK & the Hagmanns
WHAT:  The book FORGOTTEN WARRIOR--Twice In One Day/surrounding topics

GET TO KNOW THE HAGMANNS!!

Founder / Director: Douglas J. Hagmann
E-Mail: director@homelandsecurityus.com

Douglas J. Hagmann is the founder and director of the Northeast Intelligence Network and CEO of a multi-state licensed private investigative agency serving many Fortune 500 clients. A 23 year veteran of conducting investigations in the private sector, he has logged over 40,000 hours of covert surveillance in his career and is the author of Tactical Surveillance. He is a member of the International Counter- Terrorism Officers Association and possesses many law enforcement related training certifications. He has been used as an operational asset by federal law enforcement and various police departments, and has performed over 5,000 civil and criminal investigations throughout the United States. Following the attacks of September 11, 2001, Hagmann began using his investigative skills and training to fight terrorism and increase public awareness by establishing the Northeast Intelligence Network.

Associate Director, Multi-state licensed investigator & Research Specialist: J. F. Hagmann
Mr. Hagmann earned a degree in business administration, marketing and management and holds several law enforcement related certifications. He has completed over 6,000 hours of field investigation and covert surveillance operations, specializing in surveillance and counter-surveillance operations.
 
He is presently the Director of Field Operations (DFO) for the Northeast Intelligence Network.
 
Mr. Hagmann can be reached at jhagmann@homelandsecurityus.com.
 
 
OK freedom lovers, pick from my usual random threats if you don't show up, then SEE YOU THERE TOMORROW NIGHT!

Thursday, July 05, 2012

Speaking of propaganda....

...this will make your day!

calendar>>July 4. 2012 Juch 101

Myth of U.S. "Mightiness" Shattered in Korean War
Pyongyang, July 4 (KCNA) -- The myth of the "mightiness" of the U.S. imperialists was exploded in the Korean War (June 1950-July 1953) for the first time in history.
It was entirely attributable to President Kim Il Sung's military wisdom.
The President always countered the aggressors with offensive spirit and unparalleled courage and grit.
His Juche-based war tactics resulted in the liberation of the city of Seoul three days after the outbreak of the war and sinking of a U.S. heavy cruiser, called "moving islet in the sea", by attack of only four torpedo boats.
An advance unit of the so-called U.S. "undefeated division" was annihilated at a stroke, attacked by a unit of the Korean People's Army. KPA units broke through in two days the enemy defence line built along the River Kum as "the line of no retreat". The commander of the "undefeated division" was arrested by a young KPA soldier in a battle in Taejon City.
In a nutshell, the war brought about the beginning of decline for the U.S. imperialists.


In a nutshell is where they belong.  The war started at the 38th parallel when NoKo forces invaded on June 25, 1950.  After 3 years of fighting and hundreds of thousands ChiComm and NoKo deaths, that is also where it ended.  NoKo didn't gain one inch.

Sounds like a win to me.

Back to your nutshell...

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Ricardo Carrasco's story featured on CARL GALLUPS' wildly popular PPSIMMONS YouTube Channel for Memorial Day!

That's right!  The incredibly gifted internet powerhouse CARL GALLUPS is running with Ricardo Carrasco's story for Memorial Day on his YouTube Channel PPSIMMONS.  Also watch for WARCHICK postings on his blog, as he graciously invited me to begin posting articles there that are in line with his favorite topics.

Spread the word, minnions...and thank you CARL!  We're doing it!!!!

Thursday, November 10, 2011

FORGOTTEN WARRIOR: Twice in one Day

For my beloved "men," on Veterans' Day.  Thank you will never be enough; I will love you forever.




Wednesday, October 26, 2011

"We will go together with the Korean people in the future, too."

Toldja so.

From KCNA of October 25, 2011:

Chinese Veterans Recall Days of Entry into Korean War
Pyongyang, October 25 (KCNA) -- The Chinese friends who visited the DPRK gave their deep impressions, saying that the Sino-DPRK friendship develops with each passing day, displaying its solid ties and fellowship.


Wang Hai, chief of the delegation of veterans of the Chinese People's Volunteers, said:
On October 25 every year, we would recall the days when we took part in the Korean War.
The Chinese and Korean armies and peoples fought together against the U.S. imperialists and humbled the arrogant U.S. who boasted of being "the strongest" in the world.


We will go together with the Korean people in the future, too.


Li Guoru, head of the literary art troupe of the Chinese People's Liberation Army, said: In the last Korean War the armies and peoples of the two countries stood in the same trench together, shoulder to shoulder. The Sino-DPRK friendship is solid friendship nothing can break.


Xin Qi, head of a Chinese friendship visiting group, said that the Sino-DPRK friendship is a common wealth of the two peoples.


This traditional friendship forged in blood is unbreakable, he stressed.


Sun Zhengao, a CPV veteran who visited the DPRK as a member of the China-DPRK friendship visiting group, said the heroic merits performed by the armies and peoples of the two countries are shining brilliantly. He continued:


The Sino-DPRK friendship is growing stronger day by day under the deep care of General Secretary Hu Jintao and General Secretary Kim Jong Il.


The peoples of the two countries are pushing ahead with the revolution and construction while closely supporting and cooperating with each other.


We hope that the Korean people would register greater successes under the wise leadership of Kim Jong Il.

Friday, October 07, 2011

Sentimental and worth the re-post

***Given the recent passing of my mom, I thought I'd repost the piece I wrote on the 1 year anniversary of my dad's funeral.***



By: Resa LaRu Kirkland

***From January 25, 2006 edition of Etherzone.com****


As I sit here, January 22, 2006 is fading into history. It is doing so in the normal manner; light begins to dwindle, cool air replaces warm, the sun slips behind a mountain cuing stars to twinkle and the moon to take over. A night like so many others.

Yet it is one I have dreaded to see come and now dolefully bid farewell. It isn’t the day itself that has caused such emotional duality, but what it represents.

It is the one year anniversary of the day we buried my dad, the last of those first anniversary dates that all mourners mark the year after losing a loved one. After tonight, I will no longer lament "A year ago at this time…" Instead I will fall into the verbiage of those long gone: "Back when dad was alive…"

The pain of such a loss has been at times unbearable. This is nothing unique. All of the "If only we’d gotten him to a doctor sooner" or "If only they’d found the problem sooner" that torture the soul of those left behind rip open wounds barely healed over, racking a broken heart with guilt and burdening a spirit with desperate thoughts of turning back the hands of time, if only for a moment.

But my dad deserved better than that. He would be in pain at the thought of my pain, because that is the kind of man he was. I don’t think I ever asked him for help in anything that he didn’t try his best to give, or wish he could if he was incapable of doing anything. His voice was usually tinged with compassion and apology for what he couldn’t do. That always touched me so.

So as this final anniversary ticks away toward finality, I will end it with a more fitting tribute to a man whose life mattered, at least to a daughter who watched, listened, and learned.

Dad was a southern boy, through and through. Raised the redneck way, he loved guns and hunting, swimming holes and alligators, pulling pranks and playing war. Born during the depression and raised during WWII, he first fell in love with the Navy at Jacksonville Beach. The large ships never left him, nor he them. They bred in him a desire for a Navy career, which he attained briefly as a young man.

He was raised by a family who had a strong lineage in southern history. Being raised as a Yankee by him and my mother in the northwest, it was hard for me to fully grasp the fervent southern loyalty of his family. They puzzled me; often hard to understand in speech, even more confusing in their friendly admonition that the south had won the war. Dad had a love/hate thing going on with his heritage. He loved the reunions, the barn dances, the word usage that only another good ol’ boy could possibly understand, boiled peanuts, sugar cane and maple syrup, and fresh watermelon from his grandfather’s farm—but only the heart. The rest went to the hogs. He had a wonderful sense of humor, something I’ve noticed seems far more prevalent among Southerners than Northerners. So full of southern pride, his first words to my mother were, "I hear they teach ya’all up here that the North won the war." Everyone in the south knew "the war" had nothing to do with the one America was currently fighting. So long as a drop of southern blood flows, "the war" will mean what it means even in the middle of Armageddon. It makes me smile every time.

But there were sides of the south that left Dad cold. While he was raised in a family who had owned slaves, fought for the Confederacy, and who raised him to fear "coloreds," parents, cousins, and extended family who said "nigger" with the same ease they said "boy howdy!", he did not like the use of the word, and rarely used it himself unless he was quoting or telling a joke. His family wasn’t necessarily using the word with malice; it was a word used for generations like so many other words, and in the beginning, had validity. In fact, if I listened closely, his families’ rendition of the word sounds far more like "niggra." This makes sense if you know anything of the history of the word.

I once listened to a lecture on the roots of this modern day pariah. There are many who claim its origins are the Latin adjective niger, which means black, but this speaker said it had its roots in something far less formal. Given the normalcy of illiteracy among so many at the genesis of America, it should be no surprise that "niggra" was merely the southern dialect way of pronouncing Nigre, which according to this speaker, was the name of the river where most of the slave ships would pick up their "valuables." When the advertisements for slave sales were posted, it wasn’t unusual for them to note something along the lines of "Fresh from the River Nigre." Hence the southern drawl would speak of these "Niggras" because that is how they thought the word Nigre was pronounced. It doesn’t justify this most hated of all words, it simply tells a curious people how such a thing came about, as with most eventual perversions, in an innocent manner. I don’t know how much of this is true, because the spelling and pronunciation of some of these words have changed since the time she was speaking of, but it certainly sounds plausible.

Regardless of its beginnings, it became a word that meant far more than a ship’s landing point or a race of people. This was a side of southern life that left Dad cold. He remembered the white lines down the middle of the bus, the colored bathrooms and drinking fountains, the whites only restaurants. One story he told me always stood out in my mind. One day at the local five and dime, he was browsing through the toys and candies, fondling a quarter and trying to decide what to buy. The shopkeep waited on a woman, because in the South, etiquette dictated that women are waited on first, then men, and children last. That was just polite, and had been engrained into my dad since birth. Respect for elders was never up for debate.


On this day there were four people waiting their turn: the white woman, a white man, my dad, and a sweet black lady that everyone knew and liked. Of course my dad obediently waited while the adults went before him, but was stunned when after serving the man, the clerk turned to him and said, "Are you ready?"

My dad froze. He turned to look at the black woman he knew. She was his elder and a woman; why wasn’t she being waited on first? He pointed at her, his mouth unable to make the "Ladies first" rule he knew by rote. But the clerk took the small toy from his hand, completely oblivious to the childish, ignorant faux pas. My dad had never seen a child waited on before an adult, and he continued to look at the woman. She must have felt his confusion and seen the red hot shame that was creeping up his neck, because with the class and decorum of a woman who knows what is wrong with the situation but cared more for the feelings of an innocent child, she quietly whispered, "Go on ahead now."

My dad didn’t remember how he got out on the sidewalk, but he always remembered how he felt. This was wrong. The message was loud and clear: woman, then man, then child, and then colored, and something deep inside a boy not yet a double digit age churned with the dull ache of a great rudeness. In that one day he had been taught the double standard, the unspoken hypocrisy of rules for whites and rules for blacks, and he hated it. So when I would come home from school and ask him about Little Rock or Civil Rights or Civil War, he would get quiet and teach me in a way I would never forget.

That didn’t mean he supported everything blacks did. He recognized the wrongs that our society had heaped upon a people simply because they looked different, but that went both ways. Equality, he taught, means you also have the responsibility to accept criticism when it is warranted, and this was an area where blacks have too often dropped the ball. Too many want only the good stuff equality provided, but none of the responsibility for said equality. While he taught me of the evils of enslaving one’s fellow man, he also taught the wrong of the Watts riots, the Black Panthers, Luis Farrakhan, and those who think it’s alright to defile whites but blasphemy to call blacks on such duplicity. He despised bussing because it was a law of force, and as he said, "You can’t legislate love." He felt that forcing people together was more likely a recipe for contention than cohesion, and while he had friends from just about every race on the planet, he was quick to point out that it was by choice, not by force. Force, after all, had been the plan Lucifer put forth before the War in Heaven, and the plan that
God—and the rest of us—soundly rejected. He felt that too many of the hippy generation of blacks were behaving exactly the same despicable way he’d seen too many southern whites behave. Wrong was wrong in his book, and that book was written in both black and white.

Dad knew history and loved it. To get to know him and to get him to like me, I spent multiple Saturdays on our family room floor, watching VICTORY AT SEA and WORLD AT WAR with him. I knew more about WWII by the age of 12 than I did about Andy Gibb. He was constantly reading history books, red marking pen in hand, taking notes and writing in the edges, and the only books he read more than those on WWII were the scriptures. He loved our Father in Heaven with all his heart, and studied Him with a ravenous hunger. This combination of knowledge and love made him the best teacher I’ve ever known.

When I came home from 11th grade history one day and ranted at him about my humiliation during our Civil War lesson, he wanted to know why. I pointed to the Confederate States of America badge hanging on the wall of our family room. "Kirklands owned slaves and fought for the South. I slide down in my chair in class, hoping that no one in there knows that your family did that!" It was true; I had felt shame at being not just white, but southern.

My dad looked hurt, but in classic style taught me again. "Yes, we owned slaves. Not our finest moment, but not quite the evil it’s made out to be." He showed me a will of his great-great-great grandfather. He turned past the section that divided his land and worldly goods to the pages that referenced his slaves. I read as my ancestor carefully divvied out his slaves to his children. If this was supposed to make me feel better, it had failed miserably.

"Look! Dividing up his slaves like pirate booty!" I could feel my Politically Castrated education rolling to a boil.

"Read more," he said quietly.

I did so. This man was careful with his slaves, stating that they were to be distributed equally among his children, the only conditions being that they were not to be separated from parents or children, and that they were to be treated fairly and kindly as he had always done. I looked at my dad. We’d watched Roots together only a few years earlier, and the horrible scene of Kizzy being taken from Toby had always disturbed us both.

"So he kept the families together and didn’t whip them. He still treated them like possessions."

This time he said nothing, pressing the document toward me yet again. I rolled my teenage eyes and sighed heavily as I read the paragraph before me. "In regard to my favored slave, Big Black Tom," it began.

"Dad!" I cried out. "Big Black Tom??? For crying out loud!" I couldn’t help it; I just had to smile. It was just such a stereotype. Dad had to smile too. He usually found a way to make something uncomfortable into something palatable.

"That’s how they spoke back then. It wasn’t meant to be cruel."

I knew that. I mean, my relatives even referred to me as "boy." It was just how they spoke.

I read on. Big Black Tom was to go to Grandpa’s oldest son, and was to be given a portion of his land for his own inheritance. "He has been my friend all my life, and has been faithful and true. That is why I leave him to you, son, and expect you to both treat him as he deserves and seek out his knowledge, for he will run things better than you can."

My face felt red. This man had been more than Grandpa’s slave; he’d been his friend. It didn’t justify slavery in any way, shape, or form, but it did show a side to the south that I had never, ever seen before. I turned page after page, learning that unlike other slave owners, the Kirklands did not have separate cemeteries for their slaves; they were buried together, master and slave—and apparently, friend and friend. I went to the genealogy box, pulling out papers that showed slaves taking on the Kirkland name, a name from Scotland and exclusively white until it came to America—to southern America.

This was the way my dad often taught me. On one of those documentary Saturdays while watching about John F. Kennedy, I asked my dad if he had been a good President.

"Some people thought so," he quietly replied, going back to watching and learning. While I knew that my dad was no fan of the Kennedys, he always allowed me to choose what I would believe. That meant he would teach me right from wrong, but not propagandize, so that when my moment of truth came, my choice would be just that: my choice.

He always tried to be fair, and loved a good laugh. When he was Deputy Director for Job Corps, he dealt with many troubled inner city black youth, for whom the summer spent fighting fires in Cottonwood, ID was often a last chance. Never once did he refer to them as anything other than young men. He was delighted in the 1970’s when he watched "Smilin’ George" Foreman fight. He loved to tell about the summer that George had spent in Cottonwood, still struggling with who he was and where he was going. I remember mostly how he would grin and say, "Yep, that name fit him. He had a nice smile."

Dad saw the Trinity test on July 16, 1945, as he stepped out into his morning paper route. Even from El Paso, the flash from Alamogordo lit the sky, and was later explained as an "ammunition explosion." He was thrilled when his love for history caused him to find out that he had witnessed this all important moment in history in that brief, child-time instant.

Dad loved deep fried food, hated vegetables, was an avid gun collector, always wanted to be a pilot—even after he gave up being a Navy fighter pilot for his family’s sake—gave up hunting when he had to kill a deer up close and saw big tears roll down its eyes, loved America and its warriors, despised hippies, femmies, and commies, and gladly fought in our first war against communism. He supported the need to hunt so long as you used what you shot, believed the caribou could handle us drilling oil in Alaska, cheered when the nation of Israel was restored to the earth, loved our heritage through Israel’s son Joseph, lost his best friend in Korea, suffered from terrible asthma as a child and breathing problems that dogged him until his death. He hurt me at times, but probably less than I hurt him. Neither of us deserved it, both of us knew better, and I hope we’ve both forgiven and been forgiven. I have no doubt he has.

He cried when he saw the children in Romania, raged at the horror of the Holocaust, and marveled at the birth of each grandchild. He loved the law but hated lawyers. His head was bowed in humble prayer as often as it was flung back with a hearty laugh. He loved TV and reading, spending the bulk of his time in the depths of the History Channel, the Military Channel, A & E, FOX News, the Discovery Channel, and local news. He never missed a daily paper, read every magazine that worked its way into the house, and was reading new books on WWII up until he went into the hospital. He spent his last months waiting on my mother, who was also in the hospital fighting for her life after a diabetic reaction sent her falling down the stairs, shattering her leg and putting her in the hospital from the end of August 2004 until the night before Dad’s funeral. Every day he would go to her side, sitting and reading when she was sleeping, talking and praying with her when she was awake. He did this selflessly as his own health ferociously deteriorated, placing him in the hospital with my mom for the last six weeks of his life. When he was told on January 4, 2005, that there was no hope for recovery, and that he only had a few months to live, he was at peace with it, telling me, "I can’t hold on much longer, but it’s OK; I’m not afraid."

He really wasn’t. He held on for 12 more days, saying final goodbyes to old friends and family. On the morning he died, he waited until my brother showed up to say his goodbyes. Dad waited for the final words from the last of his children to let him go, then sat up, took his oxygen mask off of his face, and quietly died. Seventy years of an extraordinary life ended with little fanfare.

And now I am down to the last hours of this final one year anniversary. It has turned out to be a night like no other. I have smiled and laughed as much as I have cried while writing this; I guess it’s kind of like life. We smile, we laugh, we love, we fight, we pray, we hope, we believe, and eventually, we die. The best we can hope for is that it wasn’t all for naught. Dad’s best will remain just that: best.

On June 29, 1934, Robert Talmage Kirkland was born. On January 16, 2005, Robert Talmage Kirkland died. On January 22, 2005, Robert Talmage Kirkland was laid to rest. And on January 22, 2006, Resa LaRu Kirkland finally let him go. In between all of those dates were the days that really mattered, the days of sharing and learning. What he taught me then I now teach to my sons, knowing someday the cycle of parent and child I experienced with Dad will befall my sons when they say goodbye to me. Teacher to student who becomes teacher to new students. What a wonderful cycle; what a wonderful teacher.

What a wonderful life.

Keep the faith, bros, and in all things courage.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

BREAKING NEWS!!! South Korea returns fire against North Korea!

OFFICIAL:  NORTH KOREA SHELL LANDS IN SOUTH KOREAN WATERS

SEOUL – South Korean forces returned fire Wednesday after North Korean artillery shells fell into waters near the tense maritime line that separates the two rivals, a South Korean defense official said.




North Korea fired three shells near the Northern Limit Line in the Yellow Sea, prompting the South to fire three shells back, Defense Ministry spokesman Kim Min-seok said.



South Korean forces have been on high alert in the area since a North Korean artillery attack killed four people in November on South Korea's Yeonpyeong island.



Wednesday's shooting was near that island.



Violence often erupts in the contested slice of sea. Boats routinely jostle for position during crab-catching season, and three deadly naval clashes since 1999 have taken a few dozen lives.



Kim said one North Korean artillery shell is believed to have fallen south of the maritime line, citing a preliminary analysis of the trajectory of the shell.



The line separating the countries was drawn at the close of the Korean War. It is still a fierce point of dispute.



North Korea argues that the line should run farther south. Seoul believes accepting such a line would endanger fishing around five South Korean islands and hamper access to its port at Incheon.



The November attack marked a new level of hostility along the contested line. Two civilians and two marines died, and many houses were gutted in the shelling.



The countries remain technically at war after the 1950-53 Korean War.

Hold onto your butts....

Sunday, July 10, 2011

THANK GOD FOR THE SOLDIERS; May They Forget Their Memories, May We Never Forget Their Payment

by Resa LaRu WARCHICK Kirkland


Artie Rodriguez, Country/Western singer and songwriter
I met him at the 50th Anniversary Commemoration of the start of the still ongoing Korean War, at Arlington National Cemetery.  Out of 1500 musicians who had answered the call from the Department of Defense Korean War Commemoration Committee, Artie Rodriguez and his original song were chosen to sing at the event.  Like me, he was the son of a Korean War Veteran, and he, too, had been inspired by his dad, Arthur Rodriguez, for whom he was named.

Artie’s original song that he sang for the massive crowd and multiple media outlets was a tribute to his beloved dad, who had lied about his age to enlist at the age of 16, was dropped behind enemy lines the night before the most successful amphibious landing in history—Inchon—was taken POW and into North Korea, turned 17 while there, ate fish heads until he could bear it no longer, escaped with a fellow prisoner, was shot while escaping, and still made it to friendly lines.

                       
                              
Korean War Memorial at Arlington National Cemetery
All before he had lived two decades.  That is the kind of man only freedom breeds.

It was being raised with the hesitant stories of his dad, seeing his suffering and the horrors of PTSD, yet seeing him still humbled at the sight of the American flag, saying the Pledge of Allegiance in a voice shaking with tenderness but clear with the power and love of one who knows what it really means, all of this inspired Artie to write the song for his dad and sing it at the 50th anniversary of the Korean War.  His dad’s nightly pleadings to God to “forget his memories” of that awful time spawned the song that would win Artie his place of honor as the featured crooner at the 50th Commemoration in Arlington that hot June day.

Artie’s style of singing is more Western than Country, a tribute to his love of the original stars of the Country-Western music genre, complete with traditional steel guitars and obligatory twanging that is at its base.  A fitting way to honor the generation of our dads, as clearly recognized when he was chosen out of the 1500 audition tapes sent in to the committee’s call for an original piece to honor the veterans of America’s longest running and still active war.
                                 

Korean War POW following repatriation

                                 
We met there that day in 2000, two children of Korean War Vets trying to honor the noble men of that forgotten time, and became friends…I have never forgotten the song then, and will not now.  He learned from his dad’s story as I did from Ricardo Carrasco’s story that what makes the American warrior most Godly of all earth’s inhabitants rests forever not in what he’s willing to give, but for what he’s willing to give up so the rest of us don’t have to.  And as Arthur Rodriguez continues to pay the price for a life scarred so long ago, his tribute from a son who prays for his dad to forget his memories will be that he never will.  For Artie’s requiem to a life well-lived is the prayer of every true warrior to this day—Please God, help me forget my memories of war.  It is the eternal anthem of Post Traumatic Distress Order (PTSD.)




                                   


May they forget but not be forgotten


Artie is a veteran Marine himself, and loved the story of Ricardo Carrasco…and when he wrote the song below, I told him I would use it for Ricardo’s story someday.  He approved.  It is an ode to soldiers everywhere.





Artie cares for his dad pretty much on his own, especially since his mother died several years ago.  He has remained faithful to the father who remained faithful to truth and right, even through the agonized prayers he heard his dad pray nightly, begging God to help him forget not just what war did to him and his friends, but what it forced good and decent and loving men to do as they fought to stop evil and preserve freedom.  Thank God for these soldiers, and may God grant them their request to forget, but forever burn it into our souls.  They’ve earned that right; we owe that burden.

And that ragged faded American flag still flies high in his dad’s front yard.

Keep the faith, bros, in all things courage, and no substitute for VICTORY.

Monday, May 30, 2011

FORGOTTEN WARRIOR -- Twice In One Day


By:  Resa LaRu Kirkland

***This is the much, much, much longer version of the article posted at the WASHINGTON TIMES -- woot! -- This Memorial Day Weekend, 2011.  Tell everyone!***


When you have stories like that of Richard Rowland Kirkland hanging from your family tree, you understand the importance of justice and doing right for no other reason than it is right.  Hard to ignore a life that spawned statues, paintings, books, organizations, and, as of last year, a movie.  His acts of valor in our North vs. South war are worthy of every accolade.

He was not forgotten.  In fact, he has reached legend status.
  Painting honoring Richard Rowland Kirkland

One of the things that had always gotten to me the most were his final words:  "Save yourselves, men, and tell Pa I died right."

 How does one “die right?”  I thought I understood after reading Richard’s story and that old saying, “A hero dies once, but a coward dies 1000 deaths.”  I came to know it even better thanks to another “Richard” whose North vs. South war came later, but whose story is barely a footnote in history, in spite of its unique magnificence.

I would come to realize that this stranger, too, died right…twice…in the same day.


                                                    Statue honoring Richard Rowland Kirkland
So it was this ancestral foundation that had primed me for that warm summer night in 1991 when I perused my dad’s old scrapbook on a peaceful Sunday and was introduced to that other “Richard,” the one I’d never heard of.

But my dad had known him.  That night I, too, met his best friend, PFC Ricardo Carrasco, when I carefully opened a yellowed Reader's Digest article from the November 1959 issue, penned by Hollywood “Starmaker” Hal Wallis. The title across the yellowing article read The Movie Star You Never Saw.  



That’s how it all began. 
People are always wanting to know why I’ve pursued this story across two decades now.  Well, I’m not sure I’m wise enough to answer such a simply complicated question, but I love a challenge and will at least make the attempt.

One would think that Ricardo’s story would be explanation enough. I agree; however, it sat for forty years collecting dust and slowly fading from memories. This disturbed me greatly. How could so perfect, so beautiful a sacrifice be forgotten?

Why?

I came to find out that it was forgotten because the full story had never been known in the first place. The truth of it was more stunning, more inspiring than anything man could have imagined.


                                                  Ricardo Carrasco,1952 High School graduation

Ricardo Carrasco arrived in Korea and landed on Old Baldy Hill in late March, 1953, just in time to join Company "A" of the 32nd Infantry Regiment of the 7th Division in a battle extraordinaire against Chinese Communist Forces on Old Baldy Hill. Baldy and its sister, the infamous Pork Chop Hill, would be his world for the next three months.

He was 19, and had lived all of his life in El Paso, TX. Ricardo Carrasco and Robert Talmage Kirkland were best friends from the time they met at Davey Crockett Elementary School in September, 1945 until graduation from Stephen F. Austin High School, El Paso, TX, in May, 1952. Both joined the military – Robert in the Navy and Ricardo in the Army – and intended to make it a career.

Lucky for them we were at war again.

Born during the depression and raised during WWII, Ricardo and Robert would cut their teeth on this first war against communism. Ricardo was the sixth of eight kids, and had wanted to be a career soldier like those men he had so admired in the newsreels of WWII. He received a terrible blow when he learned he could not be part of his beloved 82nd Airborne as he’d always dreamed; he was slightly nearsighted, and with no particular skills, was assigned to the infantry.


He was cocky at boot camp, his letters gently teasing friends back home for not volunteering like he had. But his first day in Korea knocked the macho right out of him. His letters home now begged friends not to join up, and he grew to despise Korea. Oh, he liked the people, and the Republic Of Korea (ROK) soldiers, but he was restless with the fear of failing his “fellahs,” as he would refer to them, terrified and a million miles from those he loved.

What happened next should have been a Godsend – a big old, silver-screen, Hollywood-in-its-heyday Godsend. For while Ricardo was fighting, his future was actually unfolding back home in a remarkable way.
                                                  Owen Crump, Director/Writer of CEASE FIRE!

Director Owen Crump knew war. He had filmed much of WWII in the Army Air Corps and was a full-bird by the end of the war. However, something about this new war ate at him, and he finally realized what it was. They weren’t showing the war from the viewpoint of the ones who matter the most:  the American soldier.

He wanted to do just that, but wasn’t sure how. His inspiration came in the form of a newspaper article written by Scripps-Howard war correspondent Jim Lucas. One simple line would inspire an entire movie:  "It was a quiet day on the front with limited patrol action."

Knowing war as he did, Crump knew there was no such thing as a "quiet day" for front-line soldiers. He wondered how those front-liners would write that line, and decided to do it for them. He had a revolutionary idea.


Paramount Pictures Producer Hal Wallis
Crump approached Paramount Pictures producer Hal Wallis for help. He pitched his idea for the first movie ever filmed entirely on the front lines of a war. It would be in black and white to give it a documentary feel. Every soldier would be played by--of all things--a real front-line solder. No actors for this movie. Every explosion, every bullet would be the real, government-issued thing. Wallis loved the idea, and sent Crump and a skeletal crew to Korea to pick their men for the movie’s plot.

The movie was to be set on the last day of the war. A squad of 14 men, knowing that the cease fire would be declared that night, must take a hill and set up an observation post. The men are ordered to set up an observation post on Red Top Hill … a "movie" hill that was loosely based on the infamous Pork Chop. These are the most intense, most frightening moments of any war:  the cease fire was to go into effect that night, that frightening time in war when the decision has been made and the actual cease fire goes into effect, when fighting continues and men die, just inches from the finish line. 

It is one of many heartbreaking aspects of war:  the anguish of coming so close to the end, then dying anyway.  Crump wanted the world to know the loss. To drive home this point, one of the Americans in the fiction movie would die within hours of that cease fire.

One of the men that the audience would come to know and care about would die in the effort.

The agony of dying in the last hours of the war summed up in 80 minutes. Wallis loved it.




So it was that in mid-June 1953, Crump walked among the frontline troops, choosing each soldier, 13 Americans and one ROK, who would be a part of the fictional "Easy Patrol." Every "actor," every uniform, every bullet, every explosion was the real Government Issue thing. No fake Hollywood stunts for this film.  The 14 GI's-turned-actors were whisked off to the War Correspondent's building in Seoul, where they slept in real beds, ate dinner at tables with linen cloths and waiters, and had all the cigars and whiskey they wanted. Raised on John Wayne and World War II, these men knew the double excitement of being a movie star and getting out of the hell of war. Everyone there knew that the cease fire was only a few days away – the summer would out-live the fighting.

Roberto Carrasco, left, and his favorite brother Ricardo, early 1953


Among those chosen was PFC Ricardo Carrasco. He would be the American to die in the movie in those final hours of active war.

The movie would eventually be named Cease Fire!

Ricardo was livid at being chosen for the movie, but it was written up as a TDY, so he obeyed and went. He’d been squad leader when Crump had informed him of his new assignment, and he worried incessantly about his men.  He would be plagued by thoughts of them for the remainder of his Hollywood experience.

It was mid-June, 1953, when filming of Paramount Pictures’ Cease Fire! began, and everyone knew the summer would out-live this war. It was over. All but one reveled in the deliciousness of their incredible turn of events; Ricardo could scarcely bare it. The 19-year-old from Texas was quiet – moodier than his comrades, and every day he would ask the same question: "When can I go back to my fellahs?"

Ricardo knew of the Chinese desire to take Pork Chop, where he had been fighting, and their habit of nighttime attacks. Every morning at the War Correspondents Building in Seoul he would run to a reporter and ask if the Chinese had attacked Pork Chop yet. Every night his prayers were the same: Please, God. Please don’t let the Chinese attack before I can get back.


Pork Chop Hill, where Ricardo would see most of his fighting
So far, he had been "lucky"--at least in his way of thinking. He knew that hill, and he knew the horror. The thought of his "fellahs," as he called them, fighting and dying while he was getting the star treatment sickened him. He felt that he was shirking his duties, letting down his friends. The war had become for Ricardo what it becomes for all good men: it was no longer about freedom, America, or even the damned hill--it was about his love for his friends. He could never live with himself if one of them died in his place or because he wasn’t there to help.

His love over-ruled his fear.

Ricardo, far right, in scene from Cease Fire!
The rumors of Chinese amassing around Pork Chop were flying as the filming began. Every day Ricardo begged Crump to "kill" his character off so he could get back to his fellahs. Every day Crump told him they weren’t ready to film that scene yet.

The other soldier/actors puzzled over this quiet, moody young man who had the opportunity of a lifetime. They loved this life! Good food served to them on tablecloths, by waiters no less, plenty of booze, and no one trying to kill them. They were as puzzled by Private Carrasco as Crump.


Scene from movie, checking for mines
Ricardo continued to pester the director, who firmly reminded him that he was to obey his orders. Crump liked the kid, but couldn’t reckon him. Maybe he loved the battle and terror, or maybe he was bucking for a promotion or a medal. Or maybe it was like he said; that his friends, his “fellahs,” were up there.

Then came Hal Wallis, ready to prove his nickname once again.
Hal Wallis autobiography,appropriately named
Crump figured the Carrasco problem would be solved one day in early July when he received a wire from producer Hal Wallis. Wallis had seen the first rushes of the and had been so impressed by one young man in particular that he wanted Crump to get the boy to sign a contract with Paramount. Wallis knew a star when he saw one. In fact, in Hollywood he was referred to as "The Starmaker"; everyone he’d ever tagged to be a star had become one. And now he had Ricardo Carrasco pegged as the next star he would mold and create.

Crump grinned as he ordered Ricardo aside from the other men. As he explained that Hal Wallis wanted to make the young man a star, he held his breath and waited for the reaction: a yelp, weak knees, all the color draining from his face…something to indicate his shock and excitement. But Ricardo stood still, the only movement being that of his head slightly lowering. Crump furrowed his brow, but before he could say anything, Ricardo spoke.

"No thank you, sir.  Actually, I was hoping you could kill me off in the next day or two."
                                                                                                                                        
Now it was Crump who lost all color. He asked for an explanation. How could this kid turn down such an incredible offer from the most powerful producer in Hollywood, the man who had produced Casablanca, Gunfight at the OK Corral, and even the delightful Martin and Lewis comedies? And how the hell was he supposed to tell Wallis?


 

At first Ricardo skirted the question, simply saying that it was time to get back and they didn’t really need him here to make the movie, even though his part was a pivotal one. Crump could see that it was something else, and finally pried it out of the boy. Why did he want his character killed ahead of schedule? Why was he turning down once-in-a-lifetime opportunities to go back and fight in a war that would be over in a matter of days now? Why had he nagged the director from day one to get back to the mud and the digging and the fighting and the dying?

 Why?

Ricardo’s voice was low and husky. After an eternity, he raised his head up and looked the director in the eye. He just had to go back. Crump had to let him go back. The director was angry now. Was the kid a martyr? Why was he beating a dead horse? 

The "Why?" had to be answered, but Ricardo’s explanation would do little to quell his angst and frustration with this odd young man.

He told Crump that the men at the front were under his command. There was no hiding the tenderness he felt toward those men, or the responsibility. He pleaded with the director to let him go back and help his friends in the final battle he knew was brewing on Pork Chop. That was infinitely more important to him than a movie. The respect and safety of his fellahs meant so much more. He could not bear the thought of them up there, fighting and dying, while he was back in a safety zone being treated like royalty. It was not right.

Crump and Carrasco argued for the next hour. The director finally gave up and dismissed the private. He wired back to Hal Wallis that his offer had been declined.

Movie scene, racing up "Red Top Hill"
Wallis was furious. He’d never been turned down before, especially not by a punk kid on some glory kick! But after he calmed down, he decided that since the war was going to be over soon, he’d give the boy a chance to serve his country and fulfill his sense of obligation; then he’d bring him home and make him Audy Murphy.

The young, lone private continued to ask the director to kill him off, in spite of that scene being about two weeks away from shooting. Crump finally gave up. They began shooting his death scene that same week, and finished the close-ups on the morning of July 6. Ricardo was enormously relieved when he learned that the Chinese had not yet made the rumored attack on Pork Chop, but he knew his luck would not hold for long. So that very afternoon he insisted on going back. Fellow actor Otis Wright drove the jeep, cussing Ricardo out the whole way for being a "damned fool." But Ricardo was quiet, only smiling or nodding his head, occasionally speaking of his mother, the coming football season and El Paso athletics, his friends back home. They arrived in the late afternoon; Ricardo turned to wave goodbye over his shoulder. His "luck" had held; he was back with his men before the final assault. He let out a sigh of relief. He’d made it back in time…but barely.



Ricardo's original death scene, later removed by Owen Crump out of repsect for the Carrasco family and re-shot at Paramount, using an extra

After darkness fell, Chinese Communist Forces began the final attack on Pork Chop Hill. It was brutal, and the cost for it would be high. So high, in fact, that American military leaders made a moral decision to pull off on July 10, only four days later.

It would not be in time for Ricardo. At about 2330 that night of July 6, a scant 12 hours after wrapping up his movie death, a mortar round took out the left side of his head, wrapping up his life, his "reel" death and his "real" only hours apart.

 Not many men can say they died twice in one day.  PFC Ricardo Carrasco can.



The trench on Pork Chop Hill where Ricardo gave all
I don’t know what happened that night. Oh, I have the casualty report and some documentation. But what has made the past 20 years of research into this story so agonizing is that I’ve yet to find anyone who knew Ricardo and was with him that night. I must find someone. I must know if his going back made any difference to them that night. More importantly, I want them to know what Ricardo sacrificed to be there for them.

Through my research and tracking down men (It took 5 years to find them all), and getting a copy of the never-released movie from Paramount's legal department (It took two years of almost weekly faxes and snail mail from 1992-1994 before I wearied them enough to give me a copy!), I have been astonished to learn that none of his fellow temporary thespians knew that he had been offered that contract from Wallis. I’m willing to bet that the men for whom he sacrificed such an opportunity do not know just how much he gave up to be there with them that night. I’ll bet they don’t know that he didn’t have to be there that night, wasn’t supposed to be there that night, and had nagged and pestered and "killed" himself off early so he could be there that night. I’ll bet they don’t know the eeriness of him dying in both "reel" life and "real" life, on the very same day. I’ll bet they don’t know that he did what he did out of his love and concern for them.

I’ll bet they don’t know why.

Some of the cast of CEASE FIRE! with Mr and Mrs. Bob Hope at the LA Premiere
"Cease Fire!" came out in November of 1953 with its all- soldier cast. Most of the men were flown to the New York and Los Angeles premieres in high style. They appeared on Ed Sullivan and the Gary Moore Show. But Ricardo was rarely mentioned. Out of respect for the Carrasco family, Crump re-shot the death scene later using an extra. He knew that watching her son die on the screen would be too much for Mrs. Carrasco to bear. He also edited Ricardo out of as many places as he could in the film, but his part was too important. He could not be totally eliminated.

Mrs. Carrasco took it hard. In one of his last letters home discussing the making of the movie, Ricardo had written a line that now seemed ominous and foreboding: "Don’t worry when you see me die, Mom, it’s only acting." Her heart broke, and 18 months later, she, too died. She was only 47, two years older than I am now.

Paramount would be there to film Gen. Mark Clark signing the armistice only 21 days after Ricardo died. At one of their last meals together, the cast and crew of "Cease Fire!" raised their glasses to "the one who isn’t here." He was rarely mentioned thereafter.

Why?

Why would he go back to fight in a war that was over anyway? He had been under orders; no one would have thought less of him. In fact, no one had expected him back before the end of the war. They assumed when he was chosen in mid-June that he would be gone the rest of the summer. So why did he go back to fight in a war that was almost over, however tenuous that ending might be? Why would God allow one such as Ricardo to give up so much, but have his sacrifice virtually unknown by the very ones for whom he did everything?

I’ve pondered that long and hard myself.

Why?

I once listened with great interest to a man explain his interpretation of Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac. The question had been posed: If God is omniscient, then he knew what Abraham would do. He knew this faithful son loved Him more than even his own long-promised son, and would give him up at his Father’s command. Then why the test at all? Why did God ask Abraham to do what He already knew he would do?

Why?

Then came the answer that to me seemed so perfect, so beautiful in its simplicity that it had to be right. God had to prove to Abraham just how strong he was. It wasn’t that God doubted Abraham’s capability…it was that being mortal, Abraham doubted himself. Abraham had to know what Abraham could do. Like everything God does, it was not for His benefit, but for ours. I loved it! This is so very characteristic of our Father in Heaven…to show us, weak as we are, that we have within the seeds of godhood, Deity’s DNA. That we are capable of turning evil that we do or that is done against us into something divine is what makes us most like God; a "God Moment," as I often call magnanimous acts of mere mortal men.

This analogy is the warrior spirit defined. I have always felt that man is at his most spiritual when he is at war. Now this puzzles many who have heard me say this. Surely war is an evil, murderous event in our existence for which we are punished by God, right? How can it then also be good?

Why?

I have been studying the men of the Korean War for twenty years now. These valiant servants of both God and man hesitate to speak of what they’ve seen, what they’ve done. I have seen their tears, slow and trembling on the edge of graying eyelashes, slipping down care-worn cheeks as they recount their tales of war. I have strained to hear their voices, so low with the agony of this cross they bear. Many of their tears are for the brutality and horror inherent in war…the dead and mangled bodies of beloved friends, boys barely old enough to shave now forever frozen in time, never aging another moment in the memories of those who watched them die.

But what has touched me most is their anguish at what they hesitate to share…and that is the memories of what that war forced them to do. These gentle men, who lovingly cup the face of a child or make love with tenderness and sincerity to the woman they adore, sob over the clear and unforgiving images of those they were forced to kill. It is the memories of these long gone screams, these tears, this enemy pain that often haunt them most as the years go by. For all of the hatred and anger they may have felt against the enemy, it is still a hard thing to kill another man. However they may have understood the need to kill the enemy, the need to win the war, the price they pay is still the greatest to bear. They did what they had to do, and would do it again if faced with it, but the price such action exacts from a tender soul is no small thing.

This is a most glorious testament to manhood and the warrior spirit…that they bear this arduous burden with quiet dignity so those they love won’t have to. The beauty of this selfless act leaves me in awe. I have long understood the willingness to die for a friend…after all, that is the epitome of what Christ did, whose life we strive to emulate.  He died that we might live.  But those who must live with the memories not only of dead friends but butchered enemies are the closest we, as weak, wretched beings born into this veil of tears, can ever come to knowing what Christ bore. The memories of war are the price that the good man pays; it is out of his deep love for others that he spares them this particular agony.  
It is not a choice made lightly, but once made, it is set in stone forever. In my 20 years of interviewing hundreds of veterans, I have found this commonality:  my beloved warrior brothers feel that the real heroes died over there.  But I submit to you that their moment of agony was short. Now they are free and know all the answers, the why’s and wherefores. I do not intend to diminish or dishonor the glory of what they gave—and gave up—for their friends at all.  They’ve earned their crown.

But it is those who must live the next several decades with the torment of memories – you are my heroes, because you bear the awful burden every day so I won’t have to. There is no love like it – no gift more precious – and we have too often treated you poorly for your priceless gift. I am so sorry … you deserved better. You deserved a return at the very least equal to what you gave us, what you gave up for us, for most people are willing to give for a friend.  The true mark of charity is in what you’re willing to give up for a friend, a stranger, or even, as in Richard’s case, a suffering enemy.    


I have yet to measure up to what they gave, yet to suffer, yet to deserve. The thought that a mere mortal boy could be offered the greatest human acknowledgment known to flesh in the form of fame, fortune and power, and turn it down for war, terror, blood and death is an exact similitude of the sacrifice that saved us all when our perfect Brother gave up everything.  The warrior is the only mortal I've ever known who even comes close to comparing to the gift that saved humanity. It isn't that they are perfect – it is that in spite of their own personal weaknesses, they achieve a type of selfless sacrifice that can only compare to the gift God Himself gave the world.

The Korean War Veterans who went on to live instead of dying on that distant soil are acutely aware of such suffering. They came home to nothing--no "Thank you’s", no recognition--just nothingness. America acted as if the Korean War had never happened, in spite of it being the only war from the twentieth century that is still being waged. This was unimaginable to these men who had seen WWII and the honor bestowed upon their fathers, their older brothers, or even themselves. Their homeland wouldn’t even give them the decorum of calling their campaign a war. And yet it is a direct result of what they gave--and gave up--for what they believed and for those they loved that made possible my own existence. I sit and write today because of what they stood and gave yesterday.

Is the soldier man at his most base animal or most spiritual God? Is it the monster coming out in us, or the Deity weaving its way in?

This is what I see when I look into the eyes of our warrior brethren. Thrown into the most horrifying concoction of man’s inhumanity to man, it is the fact that these mortals are capable of such unselfish, beautiful acts of humanity--no, Divinity--that reaches the heart and soul of those left behind in a dust-cloud of wonder. Of all God’s children, surely He must relate to and glory over the American soldier. 
God bless the warrior, and forgive our treatment of them. Their vigilance is our only hope, for in the course of awful, painful, heartbreaking, glorious human events, they make the stands that save the souls.

Why?

Greatest of all warriors on earth, the American soldier is capable of fighting fiercely, loving gently, living nobly, and forgiving totally. These are not the war-mongers that the Hippy Press, feminists and Hollywood have tried desperately to portray; these are gentle, loving creatures who want nothing more than to be free to go on living and loving. It is this desire that enables our brothers to choose to step out of their own selfish tendencies on behalf of another.

Why?

Just like with Abraham, God was showing Ricardo just how good, how magnificent he truly was capable of becoming. God was willing to sacrifice His son because He knew there were good men out there like Abraham and Ricardo--and most good soldiers--and He wanted them back with Him.
They know what life is all about.  Richard summed it up when his last words were for his dad.  Ricardo summed it up with these final words for his mother, written in his last letter home:  “Don’t worry when you see me die in the movie, Mom.  It’s not real.”  

They know how to live worthy and “die right;” sometimes, more than once.


Whether it requires dying for a friend or living with the memories, the order of the day for the American soldier is and always has been that of sacrifice. For them, "life, fortune, and sacred honor" are not only words. They know this meaning by their wounded hearts; no one has to tell them why.

Keep the faith, bros, in all things courage, and no substitute for VICTORY.


CAST OF "CEASE FIRE"

 
  

Lt. Thompson – Capt. Roy Thompson 













Sgt. Goszkowski – Cpl. Henry Goszkowski
   












Elliott – Sgt. Richard Karl Elliott(No pic uploaded yet)



"One Ton" – SPC Albert Bernard Cook

  

















Mayes – Pvt. Johnnie Lee Mayes
  






   


 


Kim – Bong Chul Pak


















Strait (Radio Man) – SPC Howard E. Strait
















"Bad News" – Pfc. Gilbert L. Gazaille (No Pic uploaded yet)



Hofelich (Wounded Boy) – Pfc. Harry Hofelich
  











 



Owen – Cpl. Charlie W. Owen






Pruchniewski – Cpl. Edmund G. Pruchniewski
 










 



Wright – Pvt. Otis Wright (No Pic uploaded yet)



Carrasco (KIA) – Pfc. Ricardo Carrasco