American journalist Ernest Taylor "Ernie" Pyle was one of the most famous war correspondents of WWII. Using his folksy writing style, Pyle connected with his readers and brought the realities of the battlefront to living rooms across America. At his peak, his columns appeared in 400 daily and 300 weekly newspapers. 
His devoted readers included political and military leaders and first lady Eleanor Roosevelt. His coverage of campaigns in North Africa, Italy, and France earned him a Pulitzer Prize. While reporting on the war in the Pacific Theater in April 1945, Pyle was killed by enemy machine-gun fire on the Japanese island of le Shima.
Born August 3, 1900, in Dana, Indiana, Pyle grew up on a farm. After graduation from high school, he longed for adventure and registered for the WWI Draft and joined the US Naval Reserve. WWI ended before he got a chance to see the world, so Pyle enrolled in journalism classes at Indiana University after returning home. One semester shy of graduation, Pyle took a job at an Indiana newspaper. His unassuming nature, ability to make friends, and engaging writing style opened doors at a string of newspapers. He was eventually hired by Scripps-Howard and became a roving reporter.
In 1940, Germany invaded France and Pyle traveled to England to report on the Battle of Britain. His columns from London brought international acclaim, and Pyle became a household name. Pyle returned home, but when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, and the US entered the war, he headed back overseas. He petitioned for a draft deferment with hopes of remaining a war correspondent, and in 1942 he followed British and American troops during the invasion of North Africa.
On D-Day, Pyle was one of a few war correspondents chosen to accompany US troops during Normandy's invasion. He boarded General Omar Bradley's ship Augusta and went ashore at Omaha Beach on June 7, 1944. His poignant articles resonated with Americans who followed the progress of the war through his writings. Pyle returned home a folk hero in the fall of 1944. The stress of war and the impact of seeing so much death and carnage took an emotional toll. Pyle took a few months off but soon felt compelled to return to the battlefield. In January 1945, he headed for the Pacific Theater. He was with US forces on Iwo Jima, during strikes on Tokyo, and reported on Okinawa's invasion.
On April 18, 1945, Pyle went ashore on the island of le Shima with the 77th Infantry Division. Le Shima was a small island northwest of Okinawa, and the 77th was securing an airfield. Pyle was traveling by jeep with Lt. Col. Joseph B. Coolidge when they came under sniper fire. They jumped into a ditch to take cover. Pyle raised his head to look around, and a bullet from machine-gun fire hit him just below the brim of his helmet. He was killed instantly at just 44-years-old.
The 77th Infantry Division erected a monument at the site of his death, and Pyle was awarded a Purple Heart, a rare honor for a civilian. Tributes to Pyle poured in. Soldiers named a B-29 Superfortress in his honor, the film The Story of G.I. Joe premiered two months after Pyle's death. It was a tribute to American infantryman as told through Pyle's eyes and received four Academy Awards nominations. During the American occupation, a theater in downtown Tokyo was renamed the Ernie Pyle Theater, and the U.S. Postal service issued a postage stamp with Pyle's image on it. Ernie Pyle is buried in the Punchbowl Cemetery on the island of Oahu.
The Korean War was the first time the United States military engaged in a shooting conflict after the end of World War II; it was also the first of many sparks that really turned the Cold War hot.
From 1950 to 1953, the Korean War was at the forefront of American minds and politics. A public emerging from the World War II years and weary of fighting didn't fully understand the threat of Communism or the Truman administration's "containment" strategy - which meant they didn't fully understand what happened in the first place.
Initially, the war was popular because the threat of Communism had loomed over the U.S. and her allies since the end of World War II. It was popular for the United States to take action against it. However, as the war ground on, all the American public knew was that it certainly didn't end the way they wanted it to.
What Happened in the Korean War?
On June 25, 1950 - 70 years ago - North Korean tanks rolled across the 38th parallel and over the South Korean defenders of that border. It was not the heavily defended, ironically named "demilitarized zone" as we know it today. The early days of the Korean War were easy for the Communist North Koreans.
With indirect support from Communist China and the Soviet Union, 75,000 Communist troops overran the pro-Western South. Republic of Korea (ROK) defenders had no tanks, artillery, or heavy weapons to defend the position. Within five days, the South Koreans had lost 73,000 troops, and the capital of Seoul had fallen to the Communists.
As soon as the United States received confirmation that the Soviet Union would not directly intercede on North Korea's behalf, President Harry Truman ordered American land and naval forces to come to South Korea's aid. U.S. forces in Japan were quickly shuttled to the Korean Peninsula to prop up the resistance to the North Korean advance.
The Communists overran even the American reinforcements due to a general lack of weapons, equipment, and supplies needed to fight a war - especially in the blazing Korean summer. The Communist assault wasn't blunted until August when the Americans established a line around a small section of the peninsula, centered on Pusan's city (now Busan).
With Chinese supplies and Soviet support, North Korea looked ready to push the defenders into the sea. But time was not on the Communists' side. The United Nations passed U.N. Resolution 83, which called for military aid to South Korea to push North Korea back to the 38th parallel. Reinforcements from the mainland United States would arrive by September.
Meanwhile, air forces from the newborn U.S. Air Force and the U.S. Navy wreaked havoc on North Korean infrastructure and transportation capabilities. When the U.S. reinforcements did arrive, the Communists found themselves outnumbered.
In September 1950, Gen. Douglas MacArthur led an amphibious assault at Inchon with U.S. Marines and soldiers and ROK troops. The rope-a-dope was complete. American troops flooded into the peninsula behind the lines on Sept. 15, and the U.S. 8th Army broke out of the Pusan Perimeter on the very next day.
Against all advice from China and the USSR, North Korean leader Kim Il-Sung (grandad to today's leader, Kim Jong-Un) did not redeploy to meet the Inchon Landing or to defend Seoul. Nine days later, Seoul was recaptured, and the road to North Korea's capital at Pyongyang was wide open. The North Korean People's Army (KPA) was rapidly disintegrating. On Oct. 1, 1950, U.N. forces invaded North Korea.
China had been ready to intervene in the war from the outset if it deemed it necessary. Knowing the Americans would advance north of the 38th parallel, it massed troops along the border with North Korea. In October, the Chinese People's Volunteer Army (PVA) silently moved across the border. When the U.N. troops reached the Yalu River, China made its move.
The Chinese first encountered the Americans in November 1950. They routed the 8th Cavalry Division and forced its retreat before disappearing into the mountains. The attack was so fast and their disappearance so sudden that the U.N. command didn't even believe the Chinese intervention actually happened. Two weeks later, the war began in earnest.
On Nov. 13, 1950, the PVA forced the 8th Army to begin a retreat out of North Korea. The U.S. X Corps was surprised and encircled at the Chosin Reservoir two weeks later. The U.N. forces, Korean refugees, and all the supplies and materiel began to flood back down the peninsula, by land or by sea. Kim Il-Sung was relieved of any control of the war by the Chinese. Truman would fire MacArthur for expanding the war.
For the rest of the war, roughly two more years, the conflict turned into a bloody stalemate, with the frontline hovering around the 38th parallel, where it is today.
Why Was There a Korean War?
At the end of World War II, the Korean Peninsula was occupied in the North by the forces of the Soviet Union and in the South by the Americans, split at the 38th parallel. Ever since the two sides established their preferred government in these areas, the Korean Peninsula clamored for reunification - under its own government, of course.
The North under Kim Il-Sung was ready to take the country by force from the outset but was always restrained by Joseph Stalin in Moscow, who believed such a move could spark a third world war with the West - something he feared.
After the KGB turned an American code clerk in the U.S. Embassy in Moscow, they discovered that much of the American military power in the area had been moved to Japan. Believing the Americans would not move to defend Korea, the Soviets gave Kim Il-Sung the go-ahead.
But Truman believed the invasion was a challenge to the free world and the United States in particular. He believed it was necessary for the free nations of the world to contain the spread of Communism - that if the U.S. and the West allowed one country to fall to Communism, the rest of the nations in the region would fall one by one, or the "Domino Theory."
Who Won The Korean War?
By Christmas 1950, the Korean War ground to a stalemate at the 38th parallel, the place where it started and where the border is today. The war went on for two more years, but Truman opted not to run for another term as president of the United States, and the Democratic Party lost ground in the 1952 elections. Dwight Eisenhower and the Republicans won the presidency, despite the war's initial popularity. Republicans also gained control of the House and Senate.
The United States dropped more ordnance on North Korea in three years of fighting than it did on the entire Pacific Theater of World War II. According to the Korean War Project, the United States lost upward of 37,000 troops and suffered 102,000 wounded. The locals fared far worse - some 4 million Korean and Chinese (mostly civilians) were killed, wounded, or missing.
The governments in North and South Korea never changed, even if Kim Il-Sung was forced to cede control of the Korean People's Army to China, and President (and de facto dictator) Syngman Rhee's South Korea wasn't really that "free" to begin with. After a while, the only sticking point between the two countries centered on returning captured Chinese and North Korean prisoners who didn't want to go home.
How Did the Korean War End?
The fighting finally ended on July 27, 1953, after two years of negotiations. Seoul had switched hands four times. Newly elected President Dwight D. Eisenhower (formerly general and supreme allied commander during WWII) went to Korea to find out for himself how to end it. Indian General K.S. Thimayya laid out a solution to the problem of prisoners of war, one both sides accepted.
The shooting stopped that day, but the war never did
The Korean Armistice Agreement was signed by the United Nations, the Korean People's Army, and the Chinese People's Volunteer Army, but Syngman Rhee's government refused to sign. It is an armistice and not a peace treaty, which means the war is technically ongoing, though fighting has ceased.
Today, North Korea claims it won the Korean War, which it calls the "Fatherland Liberation War," and blames the United States for starting it in the first place. The armistice established the demilitarized zone (DMZ) as we know it today, where American and South Korean soldiers stare down North Korean soldiers every day.
The Korean War, sandwiched between the romanticism of World War II and America's traumatic experience in Vietnam, is often forgotten among the conflicts of the 20th century, so much so that it's often referred to as "The Forgotten War."
Throughout American History, Native Americans have distinguished themselves with bravery and courage in military service to their country, often without enjoying the same rights and privileges afforded other soldiers.
During WWI, more than 10,000 Native Americans served in the American Expeditionary Force. The majority were volunteers, and most were not considered U.S. citizens. Only U.S. citizens were eligible for the draft. Despite this, the government required Native American men to register for the draft, causing frustration and sometimes rebellion. Many hoped their service would lead to the government granting them full U.S. citizenship. At the time, only Native Americans who accepted an allotment of land under the Dawes Act of 1887 received citizenship. As a result, thousands of Native Americans served before they even won the right to vote. It was during WWI that military officials realized the value of Native languages to transmit sensitive information. German officials could not decipher coded instructions passed by telephone, radio, or telegraph using these Native languages. Code Talkers, as they came to be known, played a critical role in both WWI and WWII.
Native American soldiers participated in the WWI Meuse-Argonne offensive. William S. Harjo, a Creek Indian, was killed in France and awarded the Croix de Guerre military medal for his actions during that offensive. He served in the 142nd Infantry, 36th Division. An Oklahoma reporter accompanying the regiment spoke of the contributions of Harjo and other Native Americans who "gave their all" as German shells exploded all around them. "Among these men who gave their lives for the sake of all we hold sacred in the name of democracy are to be found numerous men of the original Americans. These Indians have borne their part all the way through," he said.
Native Americans also made remarkable contributions during WWII. In 1942, the first 29 Navajo Code Talkers we
re sworn in. Before the war ended, more than 400 Code Talkers participated, creating an unbreakable code that helped win the war. Samuel Holiday served in an elite Marine unit of Code Talkers. He went behind enemy lines on Iwo Jima to locate a Japanese artillery unit advancing on American forces. After locating the artillery unit, Holiday sent a coded message directing Marine artillery fire. With his help, U.S. forces eliminated the threat, and Holiday replied with a coded message saying, "Right on Target!" Code Talkers were a key factor in military victories at Iwo Jima, Saipan, and several other major battles in the Pacific Theater.
During the Iraq War, Pfc. Lori Piestewa became the first Native American woman in the military to die as a result of combat. She was killed in 2003 after her convoy was hit by a bomb in Nasiriyah. Piestewa, a single mother of two small children, was first reported missing. She became a household name and the adopted daughter of many Native American tribes as a worried nation awaited word of her fate. When military officials confirmed Piestewa’s death, the nation mourned with her family. She was 23-years-old, the daughter of a Vietnam veteran, and the granddaughter of a WWII veteran.
In 1973 a devastating fire in the National Personnel Records Center destroyed about 17 million military personnel files. A loss with long-lasting repercussions, it affects our understanding and knowledge of many individual WWII stories.
Here in New Orleans, the destructive power of fire and especially water is well known. Large disasters such as floods, earthquakes, and fires affect our national consciousness, and their devastating power often goes beyond the destruction of buildings and landscapes. In many cases, invaluable records, images, and other memories of human experience are lost in their wake. One such disaster affects our understanding of World War II to this day in that it took millions of records of those who fought it: the 1973 fire at the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis.
The National Personnel Records Center was formed in 1956 in an effort to streamline archival processes and merge several archival agencies. Its key job: to house and handle service records of all persons in Federal civil or military service. For that purpose, and after consulting complex and extensive architectural and archival studies in best practices, the Department of Defense constructed a six-story building outside of St. Louis, MO. By 1973, the NPRC had amassed about 52 million individual personnel records.
Despite being state-of-the-art, the center had two major flaws, and both would prove fatal almost two decades after it was built: the building lacked both a sprinkler system and physical barriers to any potential fire. Counter-intuitive to modern thought, key figures in the building process lobbied against a fire-preventing sprinkler system in the archival center. The fear of water damage due to potential leaks and or piping issues was stronger than the fear of fire. Further, the building's interior had very little to offer as a safety net against spreading flames. There were no firewalls or other barriers in the large open work and storage areas, filled to the brim with flammable materials.
These two flaws exacerbated the disaster that started to unfold on the night of July 12, 1973. One with repercussions that last well into the twenty-first century:
The first calls received by the Olivette Fire Department came in at 16 minutes past midnight on July 12. The top floor of the NPRC building was on fire. The dispatched firemen quickly reached the Center and were able to access the sixth floor, which was determined to be the main location of the fire. However, fighting from within the building became harder and harder until the firefighters finally had to withdraw from the smoke and heat at 3:15 a.m. The blaze was so severe that local residents were urged to stay inside to not take in too much toxic smoke.
The firefighters fought an uneven fight. For 22 hours, the building burnt uncontrollably. To make matters worse, low water pressure and failing pump trucks interfered with the operations and hampered the pouring of millions of gallons of water into the raging fire. Despite these obstacles, the participating 42 fire districts were able to contain the fire eventually and keep it from spreading to other floors. After two days of continued firefighting operations, firefighters re-entered the building, and four days later, on July 16, the fire was officially considered fully extinguished.
The cause of the fire was never found, even though investigations began while firefighting activity was still ongoing. The FBI looked into the possibility of arson, but no evidence was ever found. People that had been on the sixth floor shortly before the fire reported that they didn't notice anything wrong or different, nor were mechanical causes ever found. To this day, the source of the fire remains undetermined.
Once the fire was finally extinguished and the fire trucks left the premises, the painstaking retrieval and restoration work began. Fortunately, no one was injured, but the loss of records - and with its historical memory - was devastating. The sixth floor was a scene of absolute and total destruction. The fire had caused the roof to collapse onto itself; the intense heat mangled metal shelves and filing cabinets, rows and rows of records were reduced to ashes, and water and debris were everywhere.
Retrieving and saving as many files as possible from the rubble and destruction proved chaotic and difficult. The St. Louis summer heat and humidity in combination with the water damage created a situation in which quick and proper action was necessary to avoid further damage to the files by mold growth.
This was a monumental task: damaged records were retrieved from the building as quickly as possible on makeshift ramps, and preliminarily held in a quickly built tent city on the National Personnel Record Center's grounds. From here, they were put through a drying process, which included spraying with preservative thymol solution, laying out in drying racks, and keeping them in milk crates, which proved to be the most beneficial storage.
The volume of wet records was immense: almost 90,000 cubic feet of documents needed drying.
Vacuum chambers in the nearby McDonnell Douglas Aircraft Corporation plant used for the Apollo space program spontaneously and surprisingly became the saving grace for many records after initial tests showed good results using vacuum technology to dry wet records. About 2,000 milk-crates of documents were put 
in the chambers at a time. Rapid temperature change inside the chambers retrieved about eight tons of water in each session. In doing so, the records were saved from further mold damage. The fire and water damage that the records endured, however, remained.
All in all, about 80 percent of the military personnel files of Army and Air Force service members that were housed on the sixth floor were lost for good. Navy, Marine, and Coast Guard files were mostly spared. Only those that had been actively worked on were on the sixth floor at the time and hence lost. Of the roughly 22 million individual files that were stored on the sixth floor of the facility, only about 4-6 million survived, 16-18 million were destroyed. This vague number is due to the fact that the records had not been indexed, microfilmed, or ever duplicated, so there was no database or registry to help check the losses against.
The official numbers put out by the National Archives claim that 80 percent of Army personnel discharged between November 1, 1912, and January 1, 1960, were affected by the fire as well as 75 percent of all Air Force files of personnel discharged between September 25, 1947, and January 1, 1964 (with names alphabetically after Hubbard, James E.)
After the drying process, most records were stored and left untouched - until they were requested or until budget and technology would become available to help make more sense of these documents in various degrees of degradation - some charred and burnt, brittle from the fire, others fused and held together by remnant mold and debris.
The NPRC's work has continued despite, and stimulated by, the tragedy. Restoration and reconstruction efforts have been a key activity at the NPRC to the present. The Center's treatment lab uses the latest technology to make previously considered lost files legible again. However, no matter how technologically advanced the methods of reconstruction have become over the years, the sad reality is that the vast majority of records affected by the fire were completely lost. Ashes cannot be made legible again. In these cases, documents that were not originally stored with the rest of the file (referred to as Auxiliary Records) are used to reconstruct basic service information needed for veterans' benefits, burials, and other matters tied to an individual's military service.
The research procedure, both in the National Archives as well as for anyone working with these files, is complex, multifaceted, and time-consuming. The information-gathering process can be very rewarding, offering insights into a person's life during wartime and military service. Unfortunately, in most cases, auxiliary records and other documents can only tell part of the story. The human story, the history of an individual, from basic training through the various stages of his or her military service as found within the many files and forms, is often forever lost.
Note: Due to the coronavirus public health emergency, National Archives research rooms and museums are closed to the public until further notice, and the National Personnel Records Center is servicing only urgent requests related to homeless veterans, medical emergencies, and funerals.
Source: National WWII Museum
It was about 5 AM as I crept back into Mom and dad's house. I was careful when putting my key in the lock. We had a pocket door that separated the stair to the garage from the kitchen, and that was the way everyone came in and out of the house. It slid into the walls on rollers, and the rollers were noisy. But after years of sneaking in and out of the house, I learned they were much quieter if you lifted up on the door before sliding. I knew which part of the floor creaked and avoided it. I tiptoed through the dining room, down the hall, and past my older sisters’ room. I crept into my room, still quiet even though Mom and Dad’s room was on the other side of the house, and gently shut the door. I got undressed and climbed into bed, hoping to get a little sleep. But sleep would not come. There were too many thoughts racing through my mind. I lay awake in the pre-dawn darkness, thinking. I didn’t lay there long before I heard Dad’s footsteps coming down the hall.
"It’s time," he said, after opening my door.
"I know. I’m up." I lay there a minute longer before getting up and heading for the shower.
Shower complete, I went back to my room and put on whatever clothes were handy and clean. It didn’t matter much what they were, as my wardrobe consisted mainly of bell-bottoms and concert t-shirts. I packed a small bag (I wouldn’t be needing much) and went out to the kitchen where Dad was waiting. He 
lifted his chin and raised an eyebrow. "You ready?" I shifted my focus from the floor in front of me to him and nodded. We went outside and hopped into his F150.
Dad always drove an F150. They were always black, and they were always customized. The stick shift had an extension bar and beer tap. A reared-up stallion as the hood ornament. Airhorns. And running lights that rivaled the big rigs. I have a lot of memories in those trucks, and this is one of them.
We rode in silence all the way, and while the silence was warranted on this occasion, it wasn’t an exception. We usually rode in silence. We were men of few words, except when we weren’t. It was a 30-minute ride to the steps of the Anthony J. Celebrezze Federal Building on East 9th Street in beautiful downtown Cleveland. It WAS beautiful – and still is – but not the kind of beauty an 18-year old could appreciate. It had the kind of beauty you feel in a hug from someone who has always been in your corner. But at the age of 18, I didn’t know beauty. I didn’t know a lot of things. What I DID know was there were an awful lot of steps to climb toward my future, and there they were, laid out before me. I started my ascent.
The exact chain of events inside that building has faded with time. The ’80s were a helluva decade, and we were only halfway through. Ultimately, I found myself in a large room with a bunch of other guys. We raised our right hands and took an oath before God that we would support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and obey the orders of the officers appointed over me. That was a lot of obeying, and I wasn’t particularly fond or familiar with that kind of thing. After "So help me God" and a rousing round of applause, we broke off into smaller groups. Someone in a uniform came over to the group I was in, took a look at us, then handed me a big manila envelope. "You’re in charge of making sure everyone in this group gets to San Diego." The first thought that ran through my mind was, "what kind of dumb ass puts me in charge?" I had no idea who any of these fuckers were and no idea how I was supposed to make sure they all got to San Diego. I kept picturing one 
of them going AWOL and me standing in front of a firing squad for it. It wasn’t until our layover in Dallas that I accepted the fact that if someone ran, there was nothing I could do about it, and if they shot me, so be it.
I was a melodramatic little fuck, wasn’t I?
We left the room and headed to the RTA train that went from downtown to the airport. I had taken that train into the city for concerts many times. This was obviously different. I glanced around the train looking for the guys in my group. I had no idea what any of them looked like, except for one. He was a big country-strong dude in a flannel shirt. I figured as long as I saw him, I knew I was in the right place, and if not, I wouldn’t be the only one lost, and that if he at least showed up that I wasn’t a complete screw-up.
The train arrived at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport, and we all got off and made our way upstairs to the terminals and headed towards the gate. I could see Mom’s brave smile all the way from the other end of the concourse. Dad and Renee were there, as were a couple of friends from school. My shoes got heavier with each step.
We stood around the gate making small talk. I dislike small talk, but this wasn’t the time for deep discussions about our role in the cosmos or whether Megadeth could ever be as good as Metallica (SPOILER ALERT: they could and did). The time to board came, and I hugged everyone about three times.
I honestly thought I was never coming home again. Not in a morbid way, but that I would be living on a ship and the ship would be at sea, and we would pull into Singapore and Shanghai and other exotic places, but my life would be on board ship, and the ship would be at sea, never returning to the states. I told you I was a melodramatic fuck. I should have gone to the required meetings during the Delayed Entry Program, but that would have fallen under "doing as you are told," and that just wasn’t me. All that changed when 
the plane landed in San Diego, and we boarded the bus to Recruit Training Command. The yelling began instantly, and it was almost like Dad prepared me my whole life for this moment.
The flight itself was nothing special. It was an average aircraft with three seats on each side of the aisle. In the pocket of the seatback in front of you were copies of the corporate magazine (crossword already completed), Sky Mall catalogs, barf bags, and a set of proprietary headphones that plugged into the armrests so you could listen to the movie or to music. There were about a dozen or so channels you could choose from that ran the gamut from classical to country, R&B to adult contemporary. There was no metal station, despite it being the most popular form of music at the time. Each channel played about 20 or so songs on a continuous loop. I chose adult contemporary not because I liked the songs they had but that I was familiar with them. I was already stepping way outside my comfort zone and didn’t care to stray further. I got as comfortable as I could in a middle seat and tried to get some sleep. It seemed that each time I was roused out of my slumber – be it for the meal, turbulence, or just to shift positions in my seat – the song "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" was playing. I didn’t particularly like Tears for Fears because that was the kind of music the preppies listened to, but it seemed as though someone somewhere was imploring me to listen. As the events of the coming weeks unfolded, I couldn’t help but think, "Welcome to your life."
About a decade or so later, I was sitting on the couch in my living room watching the Power Puff Girls with my kids. It was the episode where Mojo Jojo’s plan to take over the world finally succeeded. Everything he had been planning to do, everything he had hoped for, had finally come true. But he quickly found that ruling the world wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He expresses his melancholy by singing in a voice that would make Tom Waits envious: "Welcome to Your Life."
I learned a lot in boot camp, and I’m not talking about left obliques or hospital corners. For a guy who knew he had the whole world figured out, I quickly realized I didn’t know shit, and that wasn’t because some cat with a red rope on his shoulder was screaming exactly that in my face. The realization slowly came to me that the world was a lot different than how it was in my head. I had no idea you could tie your shoes wrong. I had no idea you could fold your clothes wrong and thought the penalty for doing so was a bit over the top. I had no idea I could do that many pushups. I had no idea what a Filipino was or where the Philippines were, for that matter.
The biggest thing I learned was that none of us in Company 142 wanted to get our asses kicked, and in order to avoid that, we had to put everything else aside and work together.
That was 1985, and that lesson has stuck with me ever since.
Why You Should Join Tin Can Sailors
The National Association of Destroyer Veterans
Who can join? The majority of our members are destroyer veterans, but we have many members who served aboard destroyer escorts, frigates, destroyer tenders and other ships. We also welcome relatives of destroyer veterans, historians, model builders, and anyone who has an interest in preserving destroyers as museums. Only destroyer veterans, however, are eligible to serve on the board of directors.
The suggested annual contribution is $35.00 Tin Can Sailors is a bargain!
You'll receive a great 64-page magazine four times a year.
You can attend our many events across the country.
You will be helping to support seven museum/memorial ships that serve as memorials to sailors.
Tin Can Sailors is recognized by the IRS under Section 501(c)(3), therefore, contributions to Tin Can Sailors may be tax-deductible.
You'll receive free or reduced-price admission to many ships and maritime museums of the Historic Fleet.
We offer a money-back guarantee on membership contributions and Ship's Store purchases. You can't lose!
So join the thousands of destroyer veterans who are already members of Tin Can Sailors!
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Join the Mobile Riverine Force Association Today!
The Mobile Riverine Force Association (MRFA) was founded in 1992 by a small group of former sailors and soldiers who served with the Mobile Riverine Force – Task Force 117 during the Vietnam War. The MRF was one of the few “joint” units during the war. U.S. Army infantry, artillery, and other assorted commands worked together with small U.S. Navy riverine craft, as well as Supply and Repair ships, to thwart communist aggression in the III and IV Corps Tactical Zones from January 1967 to December 1970.
Sheraton Westport Chalet Hotel
191 Westport Plaza
St. Louis, MO 63146
Start planning now for the 2021 MRFA Reunion in St. Louis, MO. Registration will open on the morning of Thursday, September 16, 2021, and the reunion will end on Sunday, September 19, 2021.
You will be able to start making reservations on October 1, 2020. Please make sure to reference the MRFA when making your reservations. You can make your reservation on the hotel webpage setup for our MRFA by clicking HERE.
You can also make reservations by calling 1-888-627-7066 Monday thru Friday.
The cutoff date for reservations is August 25, 2021.
Click here for more information.
Veteran-Owned Hand-Painted Art Business – Meet Paintru
A 100% Veteran-Owned Company revolutionizing the process of owning and gifting custom fine artwork.
To stand, to serve, to commit, to struggle, to succeed – within a duty to our country, within a duty to our company.
Paintru was founded by 4 military veterans with a passion for storytelling – storytelling through moments, through people, through places, and through creation.
Paintru makes the process of owning and gifting beautiful museum-quality custom artwork, inspired by photos and memories, simple. In just minutes, you can upload a photo and select a painting style. We do the rest to match customers with a talented, top-tier artist within our expansive global network, who will bring cherished moments & memories to life.
The idea originated from a problem, or shall we say the opportunity for a better solution, as do most great ideas. Co-founder JD Kameen wanted to turn a beautiful photo from he and his wife, Liza Kameen’s Paris honeymoon, into a piece of artwork for their home. After an overwhelming experience approaching a local gallery in Florida, I ended up directly 
messaging the photograph to an artist in Seoul via Instagram. The artist then painted it and sent the painting overseas to the Kameens in a few weeks’ time. Astounded by the artistic quality and ability to elevate this cherished moment, the idea was sparked. Here we are, connecting the modern consumer with incredible artists to streamline the process of commissioning artwork to make it accessible, simple, and FUN.
Paintru portraits make incredible wedding and anniversary gifts as well as a perfect "farewell" gift for comrades who are departing the military or moving to the next duty station. The Paintru team has created artwork for every occasion to include memorial portraits and family portraits. The team looks forward to telling other military veterans and their families’ stories via artwork.
This year, the company has had an opportunity to create art for a movement, for change, for memories that get us through challenging times, for travel moments that take us back to a simpler time. We’ve supported a nation yearning for creativity and inspiration. We’ve supported artists around the world who have navigated the new reality of supporting their business of creation.
Start your custom work of art with Together We Served discount code: TWS for 15% off your purchase!
Meet Our Team
JD & Liza Kameen (CEO)(CMO)
Both were born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. JD attended the US Naval Academy for his undergraduate degree before serving in the US Marine Corps for 6 years. Liza is an alumnus of Bucknell University and is currently pursuing her MBA from Michigan Ross.
Liza enjoys watercolor painting, and her favorite artist is Sally King Benedict. JD's artistic expression is limited to doodling but aspires to be like his favorite artist is Dale Chihuly.
Eric Kettani (COO & Artist-in-Chief)
Hailing from Cleveland, Ohio, Eric attended the U.S. Naval Academy for his undergraduate degree before graduating and pursuing his dream of playing professional football. Eric played in the NFL for 5 years and served in the U.S. Navy for 10 years after graduation.
As if that wasn't enough to make the entire Paintru team a little bit jealous, Mr. Kettani is also a professional artist. After football, Eric pursued his passion for art and realized the profound impact it has on everyone. He has sold his paintings to some household names, including NFL players, owners, musicians, and art lovers around the globe. Eric's favorite artists are Adam Brett and Jason Skelton.
Brendan Aronson (CFO)
Brendan was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland, and attended the US Naval Academy for his undergraduate education. He served as a US Marine officer for 6 years following graduation before pursuing an MBA from The Wharton School.
Although Brendan's artistic expression exclusively manifests via excel spreadsheets, his favorite artist is, quite unoriginally, Michelangelo (who is also his favorite mutant ninja turtle).
Andrew Mighty (CIO)
Andrew was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland, and attended the US Naval Academy for his undergraduate education. After graduating, Andrew served as an officer in the US Marine Corps for 6 years before matriculating at New York University for his Master's in Cybersecurity.
As a former track & field athlete and lifelong enthusiast of the sport, he continues to explore his running abilities in his spare time. Andrew's favorite artist is Myron.
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Joint Chiefs Chairman Gen. Mark Milley sought to assure the nation Monday that national security and force readiness were unaffected by the decision he and top commanders made last week to work at home after isolating as a precaution against the coronavirus.
"We all have various SCIFs, special compartmented information facilities, built into our houses," Milley said in an interview with NPR, "and we all have all the same communication systems we have in the Pentagon."
Milley and several other top commanders began self-quarantining last week after being notified on Oct. 5 by Adm. Charles Ray, vice commandant of the Coast Guard, that he had tested positive for COVID-19. Ray had earlier participated in meetings at the Pentagon.
On Oct. 6, Jonathan Hoffman, the Pentagon's chief spokesman, said in a statement that "Out of an abundance of caution, all potential close contacts from these meetings" with Ray were self-quarantining.
"There is no change to the operational readiness or mission capability of the U.S. Armed Forces," Hoffman added. "Senior military leaders are able to remain fully mission-capable and perform their duties from an alternative work location."
Others in self-quarantine included Vice Chairman Gen. John Hyten; Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Mike Gilday; Army Chief of Staff Gen. James McConville; Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. Charles "CQ" Brown; Space Force Chief of Space Operations Gen. John "Jay" Raymond; Chief of the National Guard Bureau Gen. Daniel Hokanson; Gen. Paul Nakasone, the head of U.S. Cyber Command; and Gen. Gary Thomas, Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps.
On Oct. 7, the Marine Corps announced that Thomas had also tested positive for coronavirus.
In the NPR interview, Milley said he wanted to "assure the American people that the Joint Chiefs of Staff are fully functional, even though we're functional from home."
"We can go to any level of security and so on" from home through the SCIFs," Milley said. "So we're quite able to operate and maintain our daily duties and oversee the responsibilities that we have on a daily basis."
The Outpost is the heartbreaking and inspiring story of one of America's deadliest battles during the war in Afghanistan, acclaimed by critics everywhere as a classic.
At 5:58 AM on October 3rd, 2009, Combat Outpost Keating, located in frighteningly vulnerable terrain in Afghanistan just 14 miles from the Pakistani border, was viciously attacked. Though the 53 Americans there prevailed against 40 Taliban fighters, their casualties made it the deadliest fight of the war for the fight for the U.S. that year. Four months after the battle, a Pentagon review revealed that there was no reason for the troops at Keating to have been there in the first place.
In The Outpost, Jake Taber gives us the powerful saga of COP Keating, from its establishment to eventual destructions, introducing us to an unforgettable cast of soldiers and their families and to a place and war that has remained profoundly distant to most Americans.
About the Book
"The Outpost is a mind-boggling, all-to-true story of heroism, hubris, failed strategy, and heartbreaking sacrifice. If you want to understand how the war in Afghanistan went off the rails, you need to read this book."
~Jon Krakauer
"Analyzing the consequences of decisions, large and small, is what makes Tapper's book so important…for those wishing to understand the middle years of the war, they could do no better than to read The Outpost."
~Time
"Jake Tapper has woven an intricate account about battlefield bravery hamstrung by military bureaucracy, [his] voice is understated, not polemical-just a good reporter letting his facts speak for themselves."
~Tony Perry, Los Angeles Times
"[A] fascinating history. Tapper delivers a blow by blow account of [the soldiers' actions, their personal stories, and the tortured, often incomprehensible command decisions that kept them fighting despite inadequate support and an ally, Pakistan, that actively encouraged the enemy."
~Publishers Weekly
"One of the most important [books] of the year. Jake Tapper's book is meticulously researched, excellently written, and a must-read for everyone who does more than just mouth the phrase, ‘I support the troops."
~Minneapolis Star-Tribune
"Jake Tapper has written perhaps the best book set in Afghanistan to date. He provides a window into the false hopes and visions that enabled this failed experiment, an attempt to create a government in spaces that had actively avoided such."
~Douglas Ollivant, Foreign Policy
"Brilliant, dedicated reporting by a journalist who goes to the ground to get the truth. A sad, real tale about this war, America and the brave warriors who live - and die - at the point of the spear."
~Bob Woodward, author of PLAN OF ATTACK, THE COMMANDERS and OBAMA'S WAR
"The power of THE OUTPOST lies in Tapper's development of the main characters. He juxtaposes dramatic battles, complete with limbs blown off and eyes dangling from the socket, with poignant scenes of wives and parents first learning of the deaths of their loved ones."
~Seth Jones, Washington Post
"Mr. Tapper lays bare the poor decision-making that shattered dozens of American lives in the pursuit of an ill-conceived goal."
~Wall Street Journal
"A heartbreaking chronicle of the rotation of soldiers asked to
oversee an underfunded, often thankless mission."
~Huffington Post
About the Author
Jake Trapper began his job as Anchor and Chief Washington Correspondent for CNN in January 2013.
Prior to that, Tapper was named ABC News' senior White House correspondent on November 5, 2008 - the day after the 2008 presidential election. For an unprecedented three years in a row, the White House Correspondents Association has awarded the prestigious Merriman Smith Award fr presidential coverage under deadline pressure. He was a key part of the ABC News coverage of President Obama's inauguration that was awarded an Emmy Award for Outstanding Live Coverage of a Current News Story.
His devoted readers included political and military leaders and first lady Eleanor Roosevelt. His coverage of campaigns in North Africa, Italy, and France earned him a Pulitzer Prize. While reporting on the war in the Pacific Theater in April 1945, Pyle was killed by enemy machine-gun fire on the Japanese island of le Shima.
On D-Day, Pyle was one of a few war correspondents chosen to accompany US troops during Normandy's invasion. He boarded General Omar Bradley's ship Augusta and went ashore at Omaha Beach on June 7, 1944. His poignant articles resonated with Americans who followed the progress of the war through his writings. Pyle returned home a folk hero in the fall of 1944. The stress of war and the impact of seeing so much death and carnage took an emotional toll. Pyle took a few months off but soon felt compelled to return to the battlefield. In January 1945, he headed for the Pacific Theater. He was with US forces on Iwo Jima, during strikes on Tokyo, and reported on Okinawa's invasion.
From 1950 to 1953, the Korean War was at the forefront of American minds and politics. A public emerging from the World War II years and weary of fighting didn't fully understand the threat of Communism or the Truman administration's "containment" strategy - which meant they didn't fully understand what happened in the first place.
As soon as the United States received confirmation that the Soviet Union would not directly intercede on North Korea's behalf, President Harry Truman ordered American land and naval forces to come to South Korea's aid. U.S. forces in Japan were quickly shuttled to the Korean Peninsula to prop up the resistance to the North Korean advance.
Against all advice from China and the USSR, North Korean leader Kim Il-Sung (grandad to today's leader, Kim Jong-Un) did not redeploy to meet the Inchon Landing or to defend Seoul. Nine days later, Seoul was recaptured, and the road to North Korea's capital at Pyongyang was wide open. The North Korean People's Army (KPA) was rapidly disintegrating. On Oct. 1, 1950, U.N. forces invaded North Korea.
The North under Kim Il-Sung was ready to take the country by force from the outset but was always restrained by Joseph Stalin in Moscow, who believed such a move could spark a third world war with the West - something he feared.
The United States dropped more ordnance on North Korea in three years of fighting than it did on the entire Pacific Theater of World War II. According to the Korean War Project, the United States lost upward of 37,000 troops and suffered 102,000 wounded. The locals fared far worse - some 4 million Korean and Chinese (mostly civilians) were killed, wounded, or missing.
The shooting stopped that day, but the war never did
re sworn in. Before the war ended, more than 400 Code Talkers participated, creating an unbreakable code that helped win the war. Samuel Holiday served in an elite Marine unit of Code Talkers. He went behind enemy lines on Iwo Jima to locate a Japanese artillery unit advancing on American forces. After locating the artillery unit, Holiday sent a coded message directing Marine artillery fire. With his help, U.S. forces eliminated the threat, and Holiday replied with a coded message saying, "Right on Target!" Code Talkers were a key factor in military victories at Iwo Jima, Saipan, and several other major battles in the Pacific Theater.
Here in New Orleans, the destructive power of fire and especially water is well known. Large disasters such as floods, earthquakes, and fires affect our national consciousness, and their devastating power often goes beyond the destruction of buildings and landscapes. In many cases, invaluable records, images, and other memories of human experience are lost in their wake. One such disaster affects our understanding of World War II to this day in that it took millions of records of those who fought it: the 1973 fire at the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis.
Once the fire was finally extinguished and the fire trucks left the premises, the painstaking retrieval and restoration work began. Fortunately, no one was injured, but the loss of records - and with its historical memory - was devastating. The sixth floor was a scene of absolute and total destruction. The fire had caused the roof to collapse onto itself; the intense heat mangled metal shelves and filing cabinets, rows and rows of records were reduced to ashes, and water and debris were everywhere.
in the chambers at a time. Rapid temperature change inside the chambers retrieved about eight tons of water in each session. In doing so, the records were saved from further mold damage. The fire and water damage that the records endured, however, remained. 
The NPRC's work has continued despite, and stimulated by, the tragedy. Restoration and reconstruction efforts have been a key activity at the NPRC to the present. The Center's treatment lab uses the latest technology to make previously considered lost files legible again. However, no matter how technologically advanced the methods of reconstruction have become over the years, the sad reality is that the vast majority of records affected by the fire were completely lost. Ashes cannot be made legible again. In these cases, documents that were not originally stored with the rest of the file (referred to as Auxiliary Records) are used to reconstruct basic service information needed for veterans' benefits, burials, and other matters tied to an individual's military service.
lifted his chin and raised an eyebrow. "You ready?" I shifted my focus from the floor in front of me to him and nodded. We went outside and hopped into his F150.
of them going AWOL and me standing in front of a firing squad for it. It wasn’t until our layover in Dallas that I accepted the fact that if someone ran, there was nothing I could do about it, and if they shot me, so be it.
the plane landed in San Diego, and we boarded the bus to Recruit Training Command. The yelling began instantly, and it was almost like Dad prepared me my whole life for this moment.
I learned a lot in boot camp, and I’m not talking about left obliques or hospital corners. For a guy who knew he had the whole world figured out, I quickly realized I didn’t know shit, and that wasn’t because some cat with a red rope on his shoulder was screaming exactly that in my face. The realization slowly came to me that the world was a lot different than how it was in my head. I had no idea you could tie your shoes wrong. I had no idea you could fold your clothes wrong and thought the penalty for doing so was a bit over the top. I had no idea I could do that many pushups. I had no idea what a Filipino was or where the Philippines were, for that matter.
messaging the photograph to an artist in Seoul via Instagram. The artist then painted it and sent the painting overseas to the Kameens in a few weeks’ time. Astounded by the artistic quality and ability to elevate this cherished moment, the idea was sparked. Here we are, connecting the modern consumer with incredible artists to streamline the process of commissioning artwork to make it accessible, simple, and FUN.
Start your custom work of art with Together We Served discount code: TWS for 15% off your purchase!
Eric Kettani (COO & Artist-in-Chief)
"We all have various SCIFs, special compartmented information facilities, built into our houses," Milley said in an interview with NPR, "and we all have all the same communication systems we have in the Pentagon."
Others in self-quarantine included Vice Chairman Gen. John Hyten; Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Mike Gilday; Army Chief of Staff Gen. James McConville; Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. Charles "CQ" Brown; Space Force Chief of Space Operations Gen. John "Jay" Raymond; Chief of the National Guard Bureau Gen. Daniel Hokanson; Gen. Paul Nakasone, the head of U.S. Cyber Command; and Gen. Gary Thomas, Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps.
About the Author