I was knocked down by a shell. As I found myself laying on my back, the half-full flamethrower tank pinning me to the ground, a North Korean soldier came at me with his bayonet. In his quilted suit, he seemed to come out of nowhere. I can still see his face and smell the garlic on his breath. As he lunged at me, I was able to turn, but he stabbed my upper left arm with his bayonet. I had a double-barrel shotgun taped on the arm of my flamethrower and gave him both barrels. I think I blew him in half. The battle kept going ...
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I was knocked down by a shell. As I found myself laying on my back, the half-full flamethrower tank pinning me to the ground, a North Korean soldier came at me with his bayonet. In his quilted suit, he seemed to come out of nowhere. I can still see his face and smell the garlic on his breath. As he lunged at me, I was able to turn, but he stabbed my upper left arm with his bayonet. I had a double-barrel shotgun taped on the arm of my flamethrower and gave him both barrels. I think I blew him in half. The battle kept going on around me. Weapons fire was all around me, and I heard other boys being hit and falling. I laid there feeling weak as blood from my deep wound seeped out on the Korean dirt. I must have been ready to blackout when I heard a familiar voice say, "Joe, if I don't close up that wound, you'll die." (Paragraph italicized.) From growing up in a small Pennsylvania town, through Marine Corps boot camp and training, and finally, remembering and coping with buried memories decades later, Korean War combat veteran Joseph Barna recounts his life events that will put a tear in your eye and a smile on your face.
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