A Chat with My Grandpa on The War in Korea

It may be hard to believe, but before this interview, I never knew that my grandfather was involved in the Korean War. It wasn’t, and isn’t, something he talks about unless he’s asked. Talking to him about his experiences taught me so much about not only him, but my family also. I know my grandfather as the man who dresses up as Santa Claus because he bears an uncanny resemblance to him, the man who bakes bread as a hobby. This information revealed a part of him that I never knew was there.

Michael Sosik was born on November 11th, 1943. His father, who passed away only a few years ago, was a World War II veteran who was on the beaches of Normandy only a couple weeks after D-Day. He grew up in Pennsylvania and enlisted in the army on March 23rd, 1962. When I said I was surprised he remembered the exact date, he said, “It’s a day you don’t really forget.” When he enlisted, he was already married to my grandmother, Doris Sosik, known to former Burgess students as the widely loved Mrs. Sosik. He chose the Army rather than the Navy despite his former experience with boats because he wanted to serve two years rather than four, and he wanted Special Forces. When I asked my grandfather why he enlisted, he said, “Patriotism. The President called for people to volunteer, he said he was looking for ‘a few good men.’ I voluntarily answered the call. That was a mistake.”

Michael described his first days in the service as “lost and confused.” He disliked the feeling of his civilian privileges being taken away. He had to cut his longer hair, wear the same uniform as everyone else, and had the same rank as all the other men- he describes it as “a breaking down of your individualism.” His athleticism was the only thing that set him apart from the other young men. The food he described as “pretty gross.” He said that they were fed C-Rations, which were canned in 1943, the year he was born. His job assignments varied throughout his service. He was an infantryman, he jumped out of airplanes, he was a gunner on a helicopter, he learned to fight in jungle and mountain environments, and he worked with a Chaplain, who he called “an amazing man.” A Chaplain is a Catholic priest that provided spiritual and moral support for the men who were fighting.

When asked about his most memorable experiences, he recalls the time he jumped out of an airplane and came right down the center of a large pine tree, getting caught up only a few feet away from the ground. He walked away from that incident with only scratches. Another experience he had took place when he was driving a Jeep. Michael and his crew heard guns firing, and suddenly a bullet went through the spare tire of the vehicle. He kept that bullet and still has it to this day. On another occasion he was in a helicopter when the compressor stalled at about 3,000 feet up. The crew brought the helicopter down with autorotation, and the ground came up fast. When they landed, they hit the ground so hard that the tail of the helicopter broke off.

These were all scary, but the experience he considers to be the worst happened once he had come back from overseas. He was stationed at Fort Bragg in the Carolina Maneuver area, which encompassed Southern North Carolina and Northern South Carolina. He was an armorer and advisor, testing gun systems on helicopters in preparation for Vietnam. It was early in the morning, and the visibility was low. There’s no radar on helicopters, so there is no way of telling what’s around other than your own vision. When they took off from the landing zone, nose down, they saw a whole formation of other helicopters coming at them over the trees. Quickly they slammed the helicopter back into the ground, destroying it. He says, “You go overseas and you’re in a combat situation and you come home and you’re just training- and you run into something like that. The only thing that’s going through your mind is, ‘I’ve been through all that, and now I’m going to die here?’ I thought for sure I was going to die that day.”

As for life overseas, my grandfather had a unique experience. I asked him what people did to occupy the time they had off. He replied that many men went to see prostitutes, but he had another hobby. He absolutely loved visiting orphanages in Korea and volunteering his time with the children. He got very attached to one of the girls he met at an orphanage. Had he been financially able, he would have adopted her. Even still, he wants to find her, but he says, “No one can seem to help me. I know her information, her name, where she was… I’ve not been able to find her.”

Michael traveled all over when he was in the service. He’s been all over the US, to Korea, Japan, Thailand, and Cambodia. When talking about these places, he seemed to relive his memories vividly. He said, “Korea’s very hilly. You can be standing on top of a hill looking down at this valley, and they’re covered with rice patties- but there’s clouds in the sky, so you see these light and dark green patches in the shadow of the clouds.”

The relationships that he had with his fellow soldiers and his officers were stronger overseas than they were when he came back to America. For the most part they were pretty good, but he says, “There are bad apples in every barrel, just like everything else.” When he was in the US, he brought his wife with him wherever he went, so he didn’t really socialize.

One friend he made was the son of a Nazi officer named Ulf. They were close overseas, and they rotated on the same day. When they got back to America, Ulf returned to the Midwest where he lived. A couple of months ago, my grandfather looked him up online and pulled up an obituary. Through this, he learned that Ulf had been living in Northborough, Massachusetts, and had died only 3 months ago. For thirteen years, they had been living less than 30 minutes away from each other. When Mike talked to Ulf’s wife, she remembered his name. I saw his face change as he said; “It is really difficult, now at my age, that these people that I worked so close to, that I risked my life with- they’re leaving this Earth.”

My grandfather left the army as an E-5, which is equivalent to a Sargent. He re-acclimated quickly to civilian life. He joined VFW and American Legion, and his education was supported by the GI Bill. He served an apprenticeship, started a construction business, went into publishing, and finally started Northeast Merchant Systems in Sturbridge, which is the job he retired from. He had four children, all of which were discouraged from joining the military. He now has 15 grandchildren, including myself. When he reflects on his years in the military he say’s he’s glad that he did it, but would never recommend it. He strongly dislikes the politics involved in war. He’s proud, but he wouldn’t do it again, and maintains that were he growing up in this day and age, he would not want to be involved in that “mess.”

He says that he lives with problems today because of what he did in the service, and it’s transformed the way he thinks about life. Especially, he says, it affects the way he thinks about credibility. In the army, you report what you saw, not what you “think” you saw or what you analyze it to be. This is important in life too. Many people embellish what they see, and don’t even realize it. Military service also taught him how to rely on others, and how to trust someone with your life.

It was a very strange experience for me to hear my grandfather talking about how closely he knew death, when just two weeks ago I had no idea that he had ever been to East Asia. If he had been driving his jeep a little slower, or waited a little too long to land the helicopter, or missed that pine tree by a few yards, I wouldn’t be here to tell his story. I’m proud to be the granddaughter of such a laudable man.