Remember our military fallen for their character, as much as their deeds | Guestview
Memorial Day has come and gone. Summer is in, school is out; boats are on the water, and hot dogs are on the grill. For the next few months, swimsuits are seen in the grocery store, flip flops are the preferred footwear, and the white sands of Pensacola Beach are covered with beach towels, umbrellas, and sandcastles.
But this past weekend at National Cemeteries across the country solemn ceremonies took place, and at Arlington National Cemetery our president paid respects and spoke, as each one has done since President Herbert Hoover spoke at the first Memorial Day on those hallowed grounds in 1929. So without spoiling the summer mood too much, permit me to tell you a story of an American who represents the best of this great country, and why it’s so important that we continue to remember those like him at this time of year.
LTjg John “Jack” Kelvin Koelsch, USN, was enrolled at Princeton University when World War II broke out and immediately volunteered for service as a US Naval Aviation Cadet. After flight training and earning his wings of gold, Jack was assigned to a Torpedo Bomber squadron and spent the final months of the war flying TBM Avengers in the Western Pacific. Following the war, Jack returned to his studies at Princeton and finished his degree.
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Some years later, at the outbreak of the Korean War, Jack once again answered his nation’s call and rejoined the Navy, this time as a helicopter pilot. Following training in this new marvel of engineering, Jack was stationed as the Officer in Charge of a search and rescue unit on the aircraft carrier USS Princeton (CV-37), flying the HOS3 Dragonfly (an example of which you can find at the National Naval Aviation Museum, it’s the one that looks like an upside down electric egg-beater).
Off the eastern coast of Korea in the winter of 1951, the sea was so cold that after a couple of minutes the downed aviators didn’t have the required dexterity in their hands to attach the rescue hook to their harness, thus prolonging their time in the water and increasing their exposure to hypothermia. So, Jack personally designed and fabricated a floating sling that pilots could loop around their body and be immediately hoisted up to the hovering aircraft. We still use a version of it today, and it has saved thousands of lives across the world.
When Jack’s tour of duty on the Princeton came to an end, he refused to rotate home and instead volunteered to transfer to another ship and remain on station. In a letter home he wrote that his country needed him right where he was, not behind a desk in Washington, rightly believing that his hard-learned lessons and skills were needed most to save downed airmen.
Late on the afternoon of July 3, 1951, Jack heard that a Marine fighter pilot had been shot down in the mountains near Wosan, North Korea. Despite nighttime and a dense fog rapidly approaching, Koelsch and his crewman, Petty Officer 3rd Class George Neal, immediately volunteered for the rescue mission. With the weather quickly worsening, Koelsch had to fly lower and lower over the water to avoid the clouds and fog. The HO3S Dragonfly had only basic flight instruments, a max speed of 100 mph, no flight control system, no hydraulics, a manual throttle, a cockpit practically open to the elements, and fuel for only a couple of hours. Flying this helicopter in bad weather is like driving a 1950s Buick down an icy and bumpy mountainside road at night with a steep drop-off, wearing sunglasses with one eye closed and the headlights turned off, your radio is stuck on max volume, and your passenger is yelling at you to keep the car steady because he’s trying to shave with a straight-razor. In other words, it’s not easy. But more importantly, because of the overcast weather Jack didn’t have a fighter escort to protect them from enemy fire, nor was the helicopter armed for self-defense. As Jack transitioned from sea to land and over hostile territory he was exposed to constant ground fire from North Korean patrols.
Not giving himself much of a chance, the downed pilot, Marine Corps Captain James V. Wilkins, thought he would either die from exposure, the severe burns he had all along the right side of his body, or be killed by the enemy. Wilkins later said “I heard a putt-putt-putting, and I realized it was a chopper. So I scrambled back down the mountain to my parachute. I got down into the bowl just as the chopper was finishing its first search of the area, flying at about 50 feet. He was way out near the main road, and I figured, there he goes, because the ground fire was thicker than the overcast." A burst of ground fire rocked the helicopter, but Jack managed to keep the machine under control. "I figured he would surely back out," said Wilkins. "Then, by the Lord, he made another turn back into the valley a second time. It was the greatest display of guts I've ever seen."
Koelsch couldn’t land because of the terrain, so he pulled into a hover, once again completely exposing his aircraft to enemy fire. Petty Officer Neal began hoisting Wilkins into the helicopter with Koelsch’s signature sling, but just as Wilkins got off the ground, the helicopter took a mortal direct hit. Jack tried to keep his aircraft under control, but was forced to crash-land into the side of the mountain, causing the aircraft to roll upside down. Wilkins was thrown clear and when he saw Koelsch and Neal hanging upside down in their seat straps, he called out to see if they were hurt. Jack replied, “Never mind about us, are you all right?”. With a survival knife, Jack cut himself and Neal free of their straps and scrambled over to Wilkins, who, although already badly wounded, now had a twisted knee.
Jack gathered the two men from the wreck and lead them away from the crash site and enemy troops. They evaded capture for 10 grueling days, eventually reaching a small coastal fishing village where they hoped to follow the coastline to South Korea. On the outskirts of the village they found a small bombed out house where they hoped to rest their exhausted and staved bodies for a couple of hours. Jack took the first watch while the others slept. In the darkness, Wilkins was woken by Jack’s perfectly normal and calm voice speaking to someone outside, “How do you do? Won’t you come in?”
Their visitors were enemy soldiers who answered Jack’s politeness by spaying the house with machine gun fire. Wilkins recalled, “they tied us up and marched us through town, with all the civilians shouting threats and throwing things at us, to a headquarters. During all this time, Jack was constantly pointing out my burns to the Koreans and insisting that I needed hospitalization. I had maggots in my legs, and they looked pretty bad. So finally they gave me two guards and moved me out. I never saw Jack again."
In the months of captivity that followed, Koelsch was repeatedly pressured by his captors for a confession that could be used as propaganda, but refused every time. Because of this, he was continually tortured and denied essential food and medical treatment causing his health to seriously and rapidly deteriorate. Despite his weakening state, his fellow prisoners later told of his conduct under such harrowing circumstances. Many told how his example of defiance in the face of the enemy inspired them to do the same, and that Jack’s example of courage, dignity, and self-sacrifice in hopeless and degrading circumstances gave many of them the will to live and return home with honor.
When Armistice Day finally came in July, 1953, Petty Officer Neal and Captain Wilkins were among the thousands of POWs repatriated home. Sadly, Jack was not among them. He had died of dysentery and malnutrition only three months after his capture.
Beulah Koelsch accepted the Congressional Medal of Honor on behalf of her son in a ceremony in 1955. Jack has the distinction of being the first of many helicopter pilots to be awarded that honor. His remains were repatriated to the United States soon after the war ended and Jack was laid to rest in section 30 of Arlington National Cemetery. When Beulah passed in 1963, she was buried alongside her son at Arlington.
Jack’s legacy, however, is more profound than his example of extreme courage. His bravery and tenacity in captivity so captured the spirit of the American warrior that the Department of Defense created a “Code of Conduct” inspired by his deeds in captivity. It is that very Code of Conduct that has given strength and courage to American prisoners of war from Vietnam to Iraq. Every service member knows the code by heart, and it was this same code of conduct that guided VADM James Stockdale during his many years of captivity and brutal torture in a North Vietnamese prison, for which he also received the Medal of Honor.
On Memorial Day we rightly remember our military fallen for their deeds and sacrifices, but I think it is just as important, perhaps more important today, to remember their example of character. Because, we may never find ourselves faced with hard choices under extreme conditions, but we can emulate their example of character. These men and women were not superheroes with superhuman courage, but rather ordinary men and women thrust into extreme circumstances who chose to live up to American values and principles rather than shirking their duty.
The Roman Emperor and stoic philosopher, Marcus Aurelius, said of character, “Character is thus. Live every day as if it were your last. Without frenzy, without apathy, without pretense.” In other words, live a life that allows you to reach your fullest potential, and live it with calmness, love and authenticity. Avoid drama, give respect and dignity to the people around you, and don’t try to be someone else because it’s enough work just trying to figure out how to be yourself. On this Memorial Day, think of Jack Koelsch and Jim Stockdale as pretty good examples of character to emulate. That’s the true meaning of Memorial Day. That by remembering their example, that their spirit will live for ever more in our hearts.
Capt. Tim Kinsella, USN (Ret), is the former base commander at NAS Pensacola. He is executive director of the Aylstock, Witkin, Kreis and Overholtz Center for Leadership at the UWF College of Business.
This article originally appeared on Pensacola News Journal: Remember our military fallen for their character, as much as their deeds
