CHUCKS I'VE KNOWN

My wife and I have been blessed with good neighbors.  As the years turned, I intended to write about two of them.  Both had morphed from good neighbors to good friends.  Both were sailors of Korean War vintage.  Both were named Charles.  Both were known by everyone as “Chuck.”

I am sorry to report, both are being written about in the past tense.

NAVY SEABEE -- CHUCK LEIPHAM

Chuck Leipham, the Seabee, lived 177 feet across the street from our front door.  Chuck Kasai, the Corpsman, lived 210 feet around the corner from our front door.  No, we don’t feel cramped at all – our prior home was a 35’ motor home. 

CHUCK & GLORIA LEIPHAM

The two Chucks were perfect neighbors.  The Seabee was a master carpenter.  Among other things, he walked me through the installation of a life-saving stairway rail.  The Corpsman was a retired IBM engineer.  He coached me in keeping our amps, ohms, pixels, and bytes going in the right direction.

NAVY CORPSMAN -- CHUCK KASAI

Leipham and Kasai had similarities beyond their names.  Both were Northerners.  Both re- retired to Greensboro because they had a daughter who lived here.  Leipham has another daughter who lives in New York – Kasai has a son who lives in Raleigh.  Jane and Chuck, Gloria and Chuck -- childhood sweethearts -- had been married for a cumulative 124 years.

CHUCK & JANE KASAI

The two sailors and I did not talk a lot about military service, although the three of us hit many of the same ports around the world.  Leipham much preferred to talk about his two grand-sons and what talented prodigies they were.  Kasai’s Navy stories were usually centered around his Navy grandson, a senior chief petty officer of the submarine force.  “He’s the real sailor in our family,” the grandfather insisted.

While I missed a lot about how they had lived on this earth for over eight decades, I was more privy to their eleventh hour feelings about how they would leave this earth.  Facing end of life issues, both men were brave, analytical and fiercely independent.  Neither intended to be a family burden – but neither wanted to spend their last days belted in a nursing home wheelchair lane.

During these times a friend loaned us her copy of “Being Mortal,” by Dr. Atul Gawandi, Medicine and What Matters at the End.  It read like Dr. Gawandi had been inside the minds of Chuck Leipham and Chuck Kasai – or vice versa.

The good doctor marveled at the medical paradigms available to stave off death for the terminally ill, such as $12,000 per month chemotherapy, $4,000 per day intensive care, ventilators, defibrillators, and thousands of dollars in endless surgeries – often with unintended circumstances. 

From a perspective he did not learn in medical school, the doctor writes that some terminally ill patients might have lived better, and possibly longer, had they opted for more conservative care.  That is not a new perspective – hind sight remains 20/20.

Since our neighbors were blessed with excellent insurance and full VA benefits, financial ramifications were not significant.  Neither were medical wonders that might stave off death. 

Leipham realized he had passed the point of too many damaged joints and failed organs.  Kasai realized cancer had raged in vital organs too long and too far.  They spoke with authority that their bodies were wearing out and concurred with Dr. Gawandi, “Aging isn’t an appealing prospect.”

The doctor, Leipham, Kasai and I all went to different churches.  They did not hear our pastor proclaim, “God realizes the aging process that takes our bodies away doesn’t have a lot of appeal, but can be fixed in one heartbeat.” 

       

Secure in their faith, my two friends chose to let God have His way.  Obliging and loving families, caring doctors, and Hospice helped ease the process.  Both men were ever so grateful for the small amount of autonomy that existed into their last days – remember, they were “fiercely independent.” 

Dr. Gawandi admits he doesn’t have all the answers, as evidenced by the case study of his own father, also a doctor, during his last days.  He is even quicker to admit that his profession has a lot to learn when it comes to counseling and treating patients at the end of their lives.

My wife and I thoroughly enjoyed “Being Mortal.”  The book changed our thinking on some issues and led us to tweak a few of our plans.  A chapter on my two friends called Chuck would have made his book even better. 

Charles T. (Chuck) Leipham passed away March 18, 2016 – he was 83.  Charles (Chuck) Frank Kasai passed away November 3, 2016 – he was 84.

AN UNLIKELY MORTAR-MAN

February, 1943 wasn’t an ideal time for Draft Board bargaining but it was something 19 year old Horace Alligood felt he had to do.  Two of his older brothers were already serving in the Army Air Forces overseas.  To keep the next oldest Alligood son, Heber, home to help with the family farm, Horace -- the youngest of the five sons -- asked the Draft Board to send him instead of Heber.

“We grew almost everything on our 100 acre farm in Creswell, NC and our father wasn’t in the best of health.  Heber ‘loved the dirt’ -- it was logical that I went and he stayed to help our parents,” says Horace Alligood. 

The Draft Board was very accommodating.  After basic training at Camp Davis, North Carolina, Alligood served with Coast Artillery at Norfolk, Virginia.  Later, he joined a 4.2 mortar battalion in Georgia.  A five-day troop train passage took him and hundreds more to Seattle, where they boarded a troopship.

HORACE ALLIGOOD -- WWII COAST ARTILLERMAN

Alligood remembers more about the ship than the train.  “Our commanding officer could not tell us where we were going, but we all suspected the Invasion of Japan was our mission.  He ordered us to look at the soldier on our right and on our left.  He said one of the three would not be coming back.”

The atomic bomb dropped while Alligood was at sea.  He was diverted to Okinawa for occupation duty for the remainder of his enlistment. 

While at Norfolk, Alligood had a chance meeting at Virginia Beach with a young lady from Rochester, New York.  After his 1946 Army discharge, he joined Eastman Kodak and married the young lady. 

Alligood’s second entry into the Army was not as negotiable as the first.  As an inactive reservist, his entire Rochester unit was activated.  “We were off to New Jersey, then to Ft. Hood, Texas, and in no time at all, flown to Korea.” 

His 24^th Infantry Division was the first to respond to the communist invasion of South Korea.  “I don’t recall where we landed, but we took a boat first, then a four-hour ride in the back of a truck to get to our unit.  It was bitter cold and snowing hard, I nearly froze!”

According to Alligood, “We seldom stayed in the same location very long.  The front lines moved often.  I was a forward observer for our mortar unit.  The closest call I had was when artillery fire kept getting closer and closer to my position.  At the last minute, I discovered it was friendly fire – it took a while to get word back to the guns to cease fire!  By the time they finally stopped, we were being sprayed with rocks and gravel from the blasts.”

Asked if he believes in foxhole conversions, Alligood replied, “I believe in mine!”  He went to church as a youngster, but until Korea, admits he did not fully and completely trust Jesus as his Savior.

His World War II training and experience helped ease Alligood up the ranks from corporal to master sergeant in Korea.  In addition to meritorious promotions, he was awarded a bronze star, “his devotion to duty, expert leadership and initiative contributed immeasurably to his unit’s missions.”  He also earned the combat infantryman’s badge and Korean Service Medal with three bronze service stars.

ALLIGOOD (SECOND FROM LEFT) & WW II BUDDIES

 While in Korea, he received a letter from Rochester announcing the arrival of his son, John.

Alligood was contacted by the Army shortly after his second discharge regarding additional awards and recognition.  “I thanked them but told them I was done with the Army – just let me get back to work and care for my family,” says Alligood.

After 37 years with Eastman Kodak, work he describes as the “best of times,” Alligood retired and moved his family to Winston-Salem in 1983.  His daughter, Susan, was there first, having graduated from Wake Forest University.  His wife of 40 years passed away in 1986. 

At Calvary Baptist Church, Alligood had another chance meeting with another young lady.  In 1989 they were married, and in 1992 Ellie and Horace Alligood built a new home in Greensboro.  They are active members of Lawndale Baptist Church and now reside in Friends Home West. 

The Alligood bothers from Creswell, NC (it’s near Plymouth) survived their wars unscathed, and another brother saved the family farm.  Horace Alligood is 93, Lewis is 98.  I.J. died at 96.  Their parents died at ages 88 and 96.  Horace Alligood insists, “I never looked at my brothers or me as doing anything exceptional.”