Today is Veteran’s Day 2010, and it seems like an appropriate occasion to give an update on one my earliest blog articles, written in 2007. The following story won’t make much sense unless you first read that article titled, “Robert Hardin Giltner" and posted on 9/17/2007. Link to original article
Today many of us are remembering loved ones who served our country. But, the story of Robert Giltner, reminds me that there are many who made the ultimate sacrifice to protect our country, and left no descendants to remember and tell their story. Their lives were cut short before they got a chance to find a life mate, perhaps raise children and venture into the middle part of life. And, I think of the many young people who continue to die, in the service of our country, before they have had a chance to articulate and realize their dreams. Time often whirls by us so quickly that we fail to take notice of its preciousness. It is a gift denied to those who die young, and taken for granted too often by those of us who remain.
In my previous story about Bob Giltner’s death in Korea, I told the story of his buying pearls in Japan (as a gift for a future wife) to illustrate Bob’s potential future. At the time of that writing I did not have knowledge of any particular love interests that Bob had at this time in his life. However, several years after posting that first story about Bob, I was contacted by Vicky Mead, who discovered my story while searching the Internet for information about Bob. As it turns out, Vicky’s mom (Carol McGaughey) had a number of letters that Bob had written her, starting when they met on a blind date in the fall of 1951 and continuing until the autumn of 1952, just before Bob’s fatal accident.
In September on 1951, Bob was in Air Force flight school and stationed in Lubbock, Texas. One weekend he and some friends took a trip to Missouri. I think that one of the guys knew someone at Lindenwood College (St. Joseph, Mo.), where Carol McGaughey was a freshman. That weekend the college was hosting a formal dance and Bob was paired with Carol, as a blind date, for the event. The day after the dance Carol wrote the following to her parents:
“Now for the dance—it was wonderful! My blind date was a 25 (yes Mother, 25) year- old Air Force pilot from Kentucky who is stationed at Lubbock, Texas. He flew into Scott Field Friday and left today, so I doubt if I’ll be seeing him again. He was awfully sweet, and loads of fun.”
Two days after the dance Bob wrote a lengthy letter to Carol, which included this:
“Thanks for a swell time last Saturday night. The dance was wonderful, and I enjoyed every minute of it.”
Bob continued to write letters to Carol as he completed his Air Force training in Texas. In October of 1951 he graduated from flight school, earning his wings. He was assigned to Tyndall AFB in Panama City, FL for 10-12 weeks, to check out the F-94 and get his training with jets. Scheduled to be assigned to the Far East Air Force, he expected to be stationed in Japan, however he ended up being stationed in Korea.
Between his graduation in Texas and his training in Florida, Bob was able to go home to Kentucky. The letters seem to indicate that on his way from Texas to Kentucky, he was able to stop in Missouri and visit Carol. By late November 1951 Bob was stationed in Florida and receiving training on jets, instrument flying, and interceptor work.
By June of 1952, Bob was stationed in Korea, and began to write to Carol on a regular basis, sometimes writing her every day. He describes his quarters as a Quonset hut shared by 10 men, and how he’s made a home in one corner with his army cot, and furniture built with scraps of wood from shipping crates.
In July he writes of his R & R trip to Japan. He takes this trip with his R/O (Radio observer). The R/O flew in the rear seat of the F-94 and used the radar equipment to direct the pilot to the target. We might guess that this man (un-named in the letter) was Ralph Dean Ness, whose life was lost with Bob when their F-94 went down Nov. 15, 1952.
One of Bob’s letters to Carol gives a brief bio of his life history and his hopes for the future. He describes his growing up on a large farm (850 acres) in Kentucky, his education and how he developed his love of flying. He had initially wanted to study to become an aeronautical engineer, but was later persuaded (presumably by his parents) to study agriculture, a change he says he regrets. His love of planes began as a child when he made model airplanes and was further fueled when his father (and later he) took flying lessons. His father eventually bought a plane and Bob got a commercial pilot certificate and a flight instructor rating. By the time he re-entered the Air Force in 1950 he had over 1000 hours of civilian pilot time. It is clear, from the letters to Carol, that Bob expected to make a career of the Air Force, though he seemed most interested in specializing in intelligence for the long term instead of flying.
On July 21, 1952 Bob writes:
“Went to Seoul this afternoon. I could smell trees. I don’t know if I had ever noticed that trees had an odor, but they do. There are a lot of trees around here, but they are up on the hills, and there aren’t any on the base. Another thing I miss is green grass. I’ll undoubtedly miss the smell of burning leaves this fall too.”
And then on July 23 he writes:
“You probably don’t know it (or maybe you do) but this is a HELL of a war over here. I don’t mean I’m seeing a lot of combat, I’m not. It’s just the damnable situation. The largest part of the people at home just don’t realize that over here this is a full scale war. At home it’s a police action, but over here it is a WAR. All in all it’s a mess, and I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
It’s clear that after several months of duty in Korea, the situation and conditions are wearing on Bob, and I imagine this is true for any soldier at war. It’s just not what they might have imagined, and I’m sure that even today’s soldiers feel the same lack of understanding from those of us at home.
Later, in September (1952) Bob writes Carol about his 2nd R & R trip to Japan, again taken with his R/O. After coming back from this trip he is taken off flying duty because of a sore back, low blood pressure, and being under regulation weight for his height and age. By mid-October he is back on flying status and starting to fly, although still 12 pounds underweight. The weather in Korea is getting cold and he mentions that he has written home asking for an electric blanket. The last letter Carol seems to have had from Bob is dated October 14 1952, about a month before his death.
In 2000 Vicky’s mother, Carol passed away. About a year before her death, she showed the letters from Bob to her children, and told them the story of how she and Bob had met on that blind date so many years ago. Vicky tells me that she doesn’t know how her mother learned about Bob’s death, but her mother did receive a bracelet from someone who sent it with a notice of his death, because that person thought Bob wanted her to have it. There is a letter to Carol from Bob’s mother dated May 13, 1953, thanking Carol for her condolences.
We don’t know how serious the relationship between Carol and Bob might have become, but the point of this story is that “might have” part. What might have happened to those who died young? How great an honor and respect we owe those who have given up their “might have” for us and our protection.
I hope that Bob knows that he is still remembered, even by those of us, like Vicky and I, who never knew him, but are touched by his story.
Rest in Peace Robert Hardin Giltner (17 September 1926 – 15 November 1952)
