Memorial: to commemorate someone or something. A record or chronicle.
Memorial Day: A day to commemorate the men and women who paid the ultimate price in the theater of war. Not a day to thank a service person…that day comes in September (though it should be everyday). This day is reserved for men and women who gave all. Men and women who never came home and may never be recovered.
This day is for my Uncle Pvt. George H. Dotson March 24, 1921-July 3, 1945 France, WWII, my mother’s brother.
This day is for my Uncle Pvt. Clifton Eugene Gibson, June 7, 1929-October 15, 1952 MIA and presumed dead December 1953. Triangle Hill, North Korea, my father’s brother. Remains never recovered.
I never met either of these men, but they are always on my heart, especially at this time of year. Today’s post, however, is about My uncle (Clifton) Gene, for if it weren’t for his sacrifice, I might not be here to write this blog at all.
I had heard stories about my uncle here and there. Dad didn’t like to talk about him much because of the still raw emotions it brought up. However, my family recently received his service medals and other items of his life from his wife’s family and this got my dad telling stories, both funny and poignant. Because of this I have a better idea of the man who went to war so his little brother wouldn’t have to go. The man who gave all for his little brother and nieces and grand nieces and nephews and great grand nieces and nephews that he would never know.
Clifton Eugene, Gene to family and Cliff to friends was the son of Clifton Grady Gibson and Sarah Ann (Pearn) Gibson. He played basketball in high school and loved pinball games, fishing and hunting. He married his high school sweetheart Reta and they lived in Mishawaka, Indiana. It was there that he enlisted in the Army.
Gene came back to see family before deployment. It was during this visit that he spoke his last words to his little brother, my father, “I’m going so that you don’t have to go.” Dad’s number was, in fact, called up and he reported to St. Louis to process and was sent home. Home to continue his civilian life, meet and marry my mother, father and raise three daughters who would give them nine grandchildren and five great-grandchildren to date. Because of his sacrifice, my father is still here and looking at celebrating his ninth decade in just a couple of months.
In a letter dated 1 Dec. 52 from a friend and member of Uncle Gene’s unit, Bill Fegan replys to my grandmother,
“Dear Mrs. Gibson, I received your letter today asking about Cliff and I’ll try and tell you all I can about what happened, at least all I know.
As you know we were very good buddies, we took basic together & cam to Korea together, even to the same company. So we were good friends. And I am as anxious to find out more for certain about him as you are.
The last time I saw Cliff was for the battle of “Triangle Hill”, you no doubt have heard a lot a out that hill. Well our company was in the first ones who captured the hill from the Chinese on the 15th October. That was in the morning that we took the hill. And as we moved over the top & down the other side to set up positions, under very heavy enemy fire. It was starting to get dark when we got holes dug, for the counter-attack from the Chinese that we knew would come that night. Well the last time I saw Cliff was when the Chinese attacked us, and some of them got through on top of us. He was in a Chinese bunker fighting like hell. And in all the confusion that followed I never saw him no more. When the attack had been beaten off, and we still held the hill the next morning I didn’t see Cliff anyplace or since then. The Chinese pushed us back from where we were down the hill and we never again got down the other side as far as where Cliff was.”
Among other items kept by his wife and now in our care was a Christmas Card, unsigned and unmailed that was clearly meant to be sent to her love for a Christmas that would never come.
Uncle Gene gave all that my father, my sisters and I and our families might be in this world. That is a sacrifice I cannot ignore. It is a deeply personal gift that tracks in a direct line to my existence.
I am honored and humbled that my father and his sister, the last surviving siblings of five, have entrusted me with keeping his medals and I fully intend on honoring his all too short life of 23 years, proudly displaying his photos and the Gold Star, Purple Heart, Korean War Service Medal and 50 Year Korean War Anniversary Medal in my home so that the generations that follow will know his story and his sacrifice. I am putting together photo books so that others in the family may have the memories of who he was as well.
Uncle Gene was a person who enjoyed life. A person who worked hard. A person who loved unconditionally. A person who did what he had to do. He was a son, husband, brother, uncle and soldier.
I am so thankful for the opportunities I have because of both of my uncles. Stories like theirs are no doubt being told all over the world today. They gave all, as scores of others have done, for you and for me. Take a moment to honor that sacrifice today.
Momma T's Table 