I put this story off for long enough so today I sat down to try and articulate this story. My grandfather was Claude C. Smith of Middlesboro, Ky. he was an incredible man and full of laughter and humor. I remember summers when school was out and going to the lake and hanging out with Papa Smith i loved the stories he could tell and was usually assigned to get his occasional beer , typically Schlitz Malt Liquor, he loved going camping and fishing at Norris Lake just outside of Tazewell, TN, now before you religious folks out there condemn me for listing his beer or the fact that he even drank beer , get off your high horse. My grandmother was a devout baptist and preached to him plenty enough. There were days when he would crack open his beer and Granny Smith would crack open her bible simultaneously.
I never knew for sure if Papa Smith was truly saved but to me he had a heart of gold . My mom reminded me that he gave his life to the lord in the last few days of his life. If anyone should have went to heaven it should have been him if nothing else for his humor, he could keep heaven laughing for sure. I still can picture my Papa sitting in his recliner with his Schlitz Malt Liquor within arms reach, his little chi wau wau dog” TACO ” asleep in his lap, his beautiful gray hear and his laughter when he wasn’t snoring. Of course my grandmother was sitting on the other side in her recliner shaking her head and a Bible within arms reach. I loved going to their house playing ball , sitting on the front porch in the evenings watching the world go buy , the laughter of kids playing all around and my Aunt Charmaine continually harassing me. What an awesome time ? I couldn’t wait for Sundays after church , fried chicken , mashed taters ( that’s how we say it in KY ) and gravy, cornbread , green beans and all the fixings of course. Papa always had to be different – he had to have his small glass of buttermilk so he could dip his cornbread. He always did things different.
I loved my Papa and my Granny too but Papa held a special place in my heart. He was a good man and to me an honorable man , who taught me respect , integrity and honor. My Papa Sgt.Claude C. Smith served his country in the Korean War and received a purple heart for his selfless act of courage to save his platoon , you see the purple heart was given to those men and women who sacrificed their lives for the safety and protection of their brothers in arms and their country. A bayonet scar and the Purple Heart were emblems of his courage and sacrifice. The scar and the war put my Papa in a place of destiny that would lead him into the arms of a beautiful young nurse named Anna Parrott of Corbin,KY., who would later become my Granny Smith and the lady who taught me the love of Christ and Homecomings at Southside Baptist Church. Sgt.Claude C.Smith put someone else life above his own. The honor was immeasurable , the sacrifice undeniable. A man who fought for the freedom of his country , a man truly a patriot. A grandfather , a husband , a father , a soldier , an American , my friend and my hero.
I remember getting the call informing me of my Papa’s death early in the morning and I still remember it like it was yesterday, the sorrow that left my body , the tears that rushed out of my eyes were uncontrollable , the sadness was overwhelming. My Papa Smith had slipped away. I didn’t get to tell him goodbye , I didn’t get to look in his eyes and tell him I loved him before he left. He had been sick for a while and had suffered a stroke , I knew this day would come but I didn’t know this would be the day. I rushed back home to be my mom’s side and the rest of my family , it was the loneliest day of my life. However, I will never forget the recognition and the sound of the 21 gun salute that was given on this fateful day , the sound of drums playing taps, a blast of the trumpet, the seven guns , the seven soldiers , the 3 shots that echoed across the grave of a remembered soldier. The echo rang across this little Kentucky town as a grandson was captured by the honor the soldiers gave to a man they did not know, aiming at an open sky. This day was for my Papa Smith – and his service to the country he loved.
A flag would now represent the service of my Papa , it was folded tightly as if to secure the memory of this now remembered soldier and given to my grandmother. I sometimes can still hear the tears that fell there on that day. The ground was saturated with memories of this incredible man and American soldier.
My Papa Smith had received the purple heart for his service to his country. However, his service and commitment to our freedom would soon be betrayed by a son who had fallen victim to alcohol , a son who was my favorite uncle , a uncle who had so much to offer the world , a uncle who taught me so much , a friend that loved life and loved to laugh. A uncle who like his dad could tell a story that was unbelievable , some parts true and some parts well we never really knew or never really cared. People would tell me that I reminded them of my Papa and Uncle Jamie because of my ability to talk to anybody and my sense of humor. They never saw a stranger and could always make you laugh. I have incredible memories of my Uncle and this story has nothing to do with disrespecting his memory I loved him to much to do that. But the disease that was alcoholism took over his mind and his body. His need for money to buy his alcohol led him to do something that no one could have imagined , Uncle Jamie loved Papa and I know he respected him but his problem was causing more trouble all the time. He was losing the battle and control of his life.
My Papa kept his ” Purple Heart ” locked away but my Uncle knew where it was and needed money. So he broke in and took my Papa’s Purple Heart and pawned it for $ 40.00 to a local pawn shop so he could by his supply of liquor. For $ 40.00, a soldier’s service was hocked for a bottle of Wild Turkey and whatever else would fulfill his addiction. $ 40.00 was the value placed on a medal that represented the sacrifice of a soldier. $ 40.00 was the price placed on a man’s service that risked everything to secure our freedom. A pawn shop ticket was the only evidence that the transaction existed but by the time they found out that the medal was missing my Uncle’s time had ran out to retrieve the item. After my mom and her sister’s discovered what had happened they immediately went to the pawn shop and tried to retrieve the priceless medal but they were to late , the pawn shop owner had already sold the medal to a collector and would not reveal his name. After much deliberation and heated arguments they realized that the ” Purple Heart ” was gone. Years went by and my mom and her sister’s were able to get the medal replaced and it is securely tucked away but it could never replace the original . The original medal bore the fingerprints of my grandfather , it bore the fabric of his military jacket , it was the original ” Purple Heart ” given to my Papa Smith’s service to his country.
There was no replacement only a fill in.
The memory of our Papa’s commitment to his country had been pawned for $ 40.00. Freedom held no value on that day. Honor and Integrity was pawned for $ 40.00 I wrote all of that to say this, my uncle was wrong in what he did and yes we were all angry with him for what he did but his disease won out over his conscience. He made a mistake but we all forgave him and life went on. However , this story is not about my uncle , this story is not about me or my family. I began to think about the purple heart that my uncle pawned . I always remember the stories my papa would share and though I couldn’t tell them in detail.
I do remember how proud my Papa was to be an American , how proud he was to serve his country. He was in my eyes a true American hero,a true patriot. In my eyes , Papa Smith was the Red , White and Blue, he was the image of Freedom. He always flew his flag with pride – you knew he loved his country and the freedom it represented. There was no doubt in my mind , America was the greatest country in the world. Papa Smith made sure I knew that. I wander now some 25 years later after the passing of my Papa. What has happened to the America i once knew , what has happened to the America that my grandfather spoke so highly of all those years. I love America don’t get me wrong but I wander , where are the patriots , where are the people like my grandfather that instilled in me the love for a country that he was willing to die for. I know you are still out there – I know you still exist – I can still smell the fragrance of freedom. I know you are not colorblind and you can still see the Red , White and Blue. I know you get goosebumps when you see an eagle soar majestically in the sky. We are America – We are One Nation Under God – We Are Free.
America don’t pawn your freedom and the identity of who we are as a nation for a mere $ 40.00. America we are mighty, don’t let this administration or anyone steal your freedom. Don’t lose your identity. Don’t let them steal the memories of what America truly stands for and please don’t let them dishonor the soldiers that have given their lives for you and the freedom that is bestowed upon you. America don’t tolerate their addiction of power to rob you of your identity. America, although my grandfather’s purple heart was replaced, Freedom will not be so easily replaced , once freedom is gone , there is no replacement.
Pawned Freedom does not come with a pawn ticket – if we sell our Freedom , there is no retrieving it. America guard your Freedom. People have died and are still dying to preserve it. Freedom comes with a price but it has never been a price that money could buy or has it ? America we all know someone that has died to secure our Freedom, don’t dishonor their memories by pawning their sacrifice. I remember the humiliation , embarrassment and ridicule my Uncle Jamie went through after he pawned my ” Papa’s Purple Heart ” but he still couldn’t stop the disease of alcoholism and it took him too early. I forgave my uncle even though I didn’t fully understand why he did it . Ironically, my uncle’s desire was to be in the military but he was never accepted , he like my grandfather truly loved his country. I remember being at my Uncle’s Funeral , there were no guns , no salute , no flag , no trumpet or drums just memories of the man that made us laugh and cry and the Pawn Shop Purple Heart.
America – what is the price of freedom ?
In Memory of
Sgt.Claude C.Smith ( a.k.a. – Papa Smith )
My American Hero
Jamie Smith
My Uncle & My Friend