79 veterans reflect on war experiences during second Honor Flight Bluegrass of 2023: 'It was the closest friends you ever had'

The veterans, their guardians and Honor Flight volunteers boarded five buses outside the airport and we headed for the World War II Memorial. 

"We lose 150 WWII veterans every day in the United States," Thoke said to a crowd on his bus. "We're fortunate to have five on our flight which is highly unusual. Jack Weston are you on the bus? You 94 or 95?"

"94 and a half!" Weston shouted. The whole bus erupted in laughter.

Then, there's 100-year-old Paul Jones, who was 20 when he entered the war, as a carrier pilot with the U.S. Navy. He said he learned from the best, Ted Williams, known for his skills on the diamond with the Boston Red Sox, who also happened to be a pilot. "I lucked out and got him as my instructor."

"It was the closest friends you ever had, your military buddies. Especially, those you fly with. You fly wing on wing with each other. We know what everybody's thinking, they were my closest friends," Jones said.

He continued flying well after the war, for another 60 years.

Richard Kolodey flew more than 100 missions in a Dive Bomber in World War II.

"I joined the Marines out of high school with my parents' signature, at 17, in Dallas, Texas," Kolodey said. "We flew quite a bit, about every other day or every third day. You'd be in the air doing something. You went looking for guys that got shot down. You went looking for mines that the [Japanese] might have put in the harbors or bays. But most of the time, when we were on a bombing mission, we'd carry a 2,000 pound bomb."

He lost quite a few friends on those missions, but came home without a scratch.

"Can you believe it?" he asked.

Like most boys his age, John "Jack" Mullane wanted to become a pilot. It's why he signed up for the Air Force during the Korean War. But he was soon redlined when he couldn't get a physical on time and instead, became a radio mechanic.

"When I got off the plane, I didn't know where I was, or how close the war was," Mullane said. "The administrative building was full of bullet holes and I thought, here I am."

He spent most of his days watching the skies for enemy planes.

"America wasn't really prepared for this conflict. Everything we had was salvaged from WWII, trucks, radar equipment, radios, everything was reused. 'Mater of fact, my uniform was an Army uniform. I didn't get a blue uniform until I got back from Korea," Mullane said.

Often called the Forgotten War, their service in Korea wasn't always viewed the same as those who fought in World War II.

"My buddy and I went to a bar, and was having a beer and the guy sitting next to us on a stool, said, you guys come back from Korea? I want to pay for your beers, and that's the only time anybody ever made a reference to us being in Korea," Mullane said.

Russell Kingston has a much different story. He joined the U.S. Army at 18 years old and served in combat during the Korean War for the first two months of his deployment.

"We made it until the 18th of November when we got captured," Kingston said. 

Kingston was a Prisoner of War for almost three years, nearly the entire duration of the war.

"I was scared. I didn't know what in the heck to do. I just said, shoot me! Damn you! He uncocked his gun and said, we don't shoot you, we treat you," Kingston said.

It's a miracle he made it home. So many of his friends didn't.

"Old memories. You forget some of them but most of them you don't forget," he said.

We watched as volunteers helped Kingston etch names from the wall, and then headed to the nearby Vietnam Veterans Memorial. 

Maurice Geurin, Sr. and his son, were standing at the entrance, leaning over a book of names and where to find them. But this was as far as he'd go.

"I have a psychiatrist at the VA and he recommended I come and get closure. And I just don't see it. I don't see the closure there," Geurin said. "My son got me this close to it. I've been trying for years but this is as close as I've gotten."

His two and a half tours in Vietnam still haunt him.

"The nightmares aren't as bad as they used to be but I still have them," Geurin said.

His son, Maurice Geurin, Jr., walks alone down to the section where Ben Henry Wilkerson's name is etched in black granite.

"Took a picture of the friend, a gentleman he knew who died in the Army in 1969. Pretty amazing to see all these names. People who gave their life for our country. Pretty amazing. Proud of my dad," Geurin, Jr. said. "I'm proud he made it this far. I'm proud he made the trip. In the past he's talked about the Honor Flight but didn't want to do it. He hasn't been on a plane in years."

He said it was a big step for his dad.

"I know he's happy that I'm here, so I'm happy to be with him at this moment," Geurin, Jr. said. "I know right now he says he doesn't feel closure but I'm hoping in the future it may bring him a little peace."

It's a day of reflection and closure for some. 

"Sometimes it take years to get over stuff. Some guys never get over stuff," Vietnam veteran and U.S. Marine Quincy Shelton said. "You're scared, but at that age, you're kind of fearless. You don't think about death like I do now."

"It's tough but I wouldn't trade nothing for it," Everett Pimpleton, a Vietnam veteran said, sitting beneath an immense Air Force Memorial. "That is awesome. I wish my brother could be here. He was in the Air Force when they had [Tet Offensive] over there and they blew the base up. He survived, but I wish he could be here to see this."

Chuck Armenta, a Vietnam veteran, said he wanted to cry but held himself back, saying there were too many people. Armenta was drafted in '67 into the U.S. Army. 

"I spent Christmas in Vietnam that year," Armenta said. "No, I didn't choose to do it. But I wasn't going to fight it. I thought I was going to Germany after going to Fort Knox. They said, nope, you're going to Vietnam."

"I've seen quite a bit but like I said, over there, you always talk about the good things that happen not the bad things," Armenta said.

Back at the airport, it was time for Mail Call. Manila envelopes were filled with dozens of letters addressed to each veteran. Some from families, others from strangers.

One read:

"Dear veteran, I hope you enjoy the Honor Flight and know I appreciate your service to our country. Because of your bravery we remain a free country. Donna Taylor."

It's time to board the plane and you hear staff ask, did you have a good day? 

"Hell of a day. Good day," one veteran said, walking down the aisle.

"We're not through yet," Thoke said. "We have some more surprises for you."

Back in Louisville, more than a thousand people gathered outside the TSA checkpoint. American flags, signs and smiles flood the lobby awaiting our veterans' arrival.

"There was only one guardian able to go with each veteran and it was a fight in my household," Capt. Ernest Jay Wallace, Jr.'s daughter said. She was in the crowd, ready to welcome him home. "My middle sister who lives with him and takes care of him had the honor of going with him today. It just meant everything to welcome him back home because I know my father was not welcomed home like this the first time he came home from Vietnam. This is an extremely emotional day."

The USA chants erupted when the veterans were spotted turning the corner. This is the welcome home they deserved decades ago.

"This is a once in a lifetime thing and the honor you all have given these veterans, I wish you could do it to every single one because they deserve it," the daughter of Veteran Finis Curry said. 

She drove more than 12 hours to be here in this moment with her family.

"Whether you fought, whether you were shot at, whether you were in the thick of the battle, you sacrificed your life, your time with your family, your hopes and dreams," she said.

"If I had it to do over, I would still sacrifice for you," Curry smiled.

Vietnam Veteran Charles Curry (unrelated to Finis) was also in the crowd, this time as a greeter. We shared his story on the May 17 Honor Flight, when he made a promise.

"When I came on the flight in May, I promised myself I would come back and support other veterans. This is about as good as being on the trip itself," Curry said. "It's something that stays with me daily and will be with me the rest of my life. Any veteran needs to go to Honor Flight, pull up the application and get on the plane. You will never regret it."

How you can help

The Honor Flight Network is a non-profit, and relies on donations and sponsors to make these flights happen. Each flight costs $117,000. Guardian fees (about $600) pay for less than half of that. You can ensure more of our veterans make it to D.C. by donating your time or money. Visit HFB's website for more information. 

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