Don Brown is sort of an unassuming man. The soft-spoken retired farmer was born in Roy, Utah, married and raised seven children, all of whom are active in the Church. Today, he and his wife, Sarah, live in Yuma, Ariz., and enjoy as much time as possible with 41 grandchildren.
Many who have known Brother Brown over the years probably never knew he earned the Purple Heart in Korea for wounds received in battle. Nor would they likely know he also earned the Silver Star for bravery in helping stop an enemy onslaught that killed thousands one terribly cold day in December 1950.
One reason many friends and even some of his children didn't know was the U.S. Army forgot to give him his medals. It took more than 50 years to correct that mistake.
On Sept. 5 of this year, the former Army corporal stood in the cultural hall of the stake center in Hermiston, Ore., where Brother Brown and his wife lived at the time, while Lt. Col. David Holliday pinned both medals to his lapels. Watching were Sarah Brown, his seven grown children and several grandchildren.
"This is long overdue and well deserved," Lt. Col. Holliday said as he pinned on the medals, according to an article in the localTri-City Herald.
"I was a little bit humbled," said Brother Brown, who is a member of the Yuma Arizona Stake, in a telephone interview. "The colonel was very touching. He was a wonderful man. He came out and did it [pinned the medals] himself."
The wait, he admitted, was well worth it as his grandchildren "grabbed me around my leg and told me they loved me."
"I gave up a long time ago," he said, speaking of waiting more than five decades for this honor. "I feel like I deserved them."
An honest statement if you know the details of September and December of 53 years ago. A young Don Brown joined the Army at 18 years of age in 1948. He had three brothers who fought in World War II, all three of whom came home safe. In 1950, the then-private was shipped to Korea to take part in what many have called the "Forgotten War."
Only 19 days after his arrival, on Sept. 5, his company came under attack. Brother Brown remembers being in a foxhole when Korean grenade squads struck just before dawn. "They were close enough I could hear them talking. I threw two grenades and when I got up and ran somebody threw a grenade that hit me in the back before it went [blew] up. Something said, 'Lay down.' "
The private threw himself to the ground, and the grenade exploded. Shrapnel hit his face, shoulders, arms and a leg. "I thought the curtain was coming down. I thought it was over with."
Amid the chaos, the wounded and bleeding soldier got up and ran behind an American tank. "Afterward, out of the whole company [with some 260 men], there might have been 30 men standing."
Brother Brown was evacuated to a hospital in Japan, where he spent three months recovering. But he was not homeward bound. In December, he was sent back to the fighting as a 60-millimeter mortar gunner. It was 45 degrees below zero. "It was cold. There was no place to go. Guys froze their fingers and toes. It was pretty tough. I was on the front lines for four months and never got a bath or shave."
Within about three weeks of returning to Korea, Brother Brown found himself in another major battle. "I ran up and put my gun against the stump of a tree, and I was shooting 300 yards almost straight up over the hill. They were coming at us, a whole Korean division. I shot 90 rounds in five to six minutes. You can shoot as fast as you can drop them in the tube. I had an artillery observer telling me where to shoot. He'd have me move the mortar 400 yards to the right or 400 yards to the left.
"They had us pinned down for 12 hours. They just slaughtered us. We lost thousands and thousands of men that day."
Finally, at about 8 p.m., the battle died down. The artillery observer told the mortar gunner that his barrage had helped stop the onslaught.
"Nobody knows what [combat] is about unless you're in it," Brother Brown said. He added that it's easy for one's faith to slip in the face of such horror, but he held on. "I probably prayed for 12 hours trying to get out of that situation. I had guys shot on both sides of me, 3 feet away. I should've been killed a hundred times, but I had to come home and raise seven children. I guess there was a reason.
"From youth, you go to Church," he continued, "and you had it instilled in you. This is the truth. This is what it's all about. It's what my parents taught me."
Brother Brown spent the last three months in Korea as part of an honor guard for a general. In 1951, he came home to Utah, married and moved to Oregon to farm. But life's battles were not over. His first wife, Carolyn, after giving birth to two children, was killed by a drunk driver in 1957. The widower remarried and had five more children.
There was more heartache and a divorce. Five years ago, he married Sarah. And two years ago, she thought it was about time he received his medals. In the early years, Brother Brown tried to get them, but clerical errors and a fire that destroyed Army records in Denver, Colo., seemed to all but end the chance.
Sarah Brown made one final try — this time with success. He received his Purple Heart and Silver Star in the mail late this summer.
But after 50 years, that wasn't enough. "They're going to come out and pin it on me," Brother Brown declared.
The U.S. Army didn't argue.
E-mail: julied@desnews.com
