Photo By Terrance Bell | Anna Lockett, widow of Army Cpl. Lindsey C. Lockett, receives the U.S. flag and...... read more read more
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RICHMOND, Va. - Lindsey Calvin Lockett has spent virtually his entire life filling in blank spots about his father. Tidbits of information here and there helped him form a better image of who he was, but it was never quite complete.
Lockett’s father, Lindsey Clayton Lockett, never held him, rocked him to sleep or read him a bedtime story.
He never took him to a ball game.
The elder Lockett was obliged to military service during the Korean War and never got the chance to see his son; never got the opportunity to share in the precious first moments of his life.
Cpl. Lockett was a 24-year-old newlywed and soon-to-be first-time father when he departed these shores for Korea in 1950. He ultimately met with his death during the war. His remains were never identified, leaving a wife and son to bear the uncertainty of his demise and the prospect of leading their lives without his presence.
“I needed a father in my life,” said the 64-year-old Lockett recently in reflection. “I was hoping they would find him and some way he would come home.”
Cpl. Lockett is finally home. His remains were identified late last year, and the Richmond native was welcomed during a poignant military ceremony at the Richmond International Airport April 9.
“I feel excited,” said the younger Lockett prior to the ceremony. “I am honored the military has showed him the respect he deserves.”
His wife, Anna Lockett, his son and grandson, Virginia Army National Guardsman Sgt. Leonardo Lockett, were among the family members who waited on the tarmac to receive his remains.
A Combined Arms Support Command Funeral Honors Team provided full military honors for the returning Soldier.
A native of Richmond, Lockett enlisted in 1945 and was called to duty as a reservist during the war. He was eventually assigned as a medic to Medical Detachment, 503rd Field Artillery Battalion, 2nd Infantry Division.
During battles against enemy forces at Kunu-ri, North Korea, on Dec. 1, 1950, the unit was overrun by Chinese forces supporting North Korea. Cpl. Lockett and several others were taken prisoners of war. He was declared dead sometime in 1953, said Ms. Lockett, but the whereabouts of his remains were unknown.
Upon the arrival of Cpl. Lockett’s remains at the airport, Ms. Lockett said she felt relief but also sadness because her husband suffered in captivity.
“I read some of the things that he went through,” said the 82-year-old, noting official documents. “He went through some hard times.”
Her husband, said Ms. Lockett, was a defiant prisoner.
“I met a couple of guys who were in there with him in prison,” she said. “Things they did he wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t eat the food because they fed them like animals.”
The men cited by Ms. Lockett told her the guards took Cpl. Lockett outside one day and “they heard him holler,” said the younger Lockett.
It was the last time anybody saw his father alive, he said.
Cpl. Lockett’s death left the family devastated, said Ms. Lockett. She was barely 20 years old with a 3-year-old to raise and said she struggled through a number of family and domestic issues in the wake of her husband’s death.
The younger Lockett said his mother more than filled the family’s paternal vacancy and owes his well-being to her resilience.
“My mother did so much for us,” he said. “She was both my mother and father.”
Although Cpl. Lockett’s death in captivity was officially confirmed, some of his family members didn’t fully embrace the fact for years because his remains were never found. They were still hopeful it was some kind of identification mix-up, said the younger Lockett.
He also mentioned how his own vulnerabilities emanating from a deep longing for his father’s presence caused him to believe he was somehow still alive.
“I would hope that somehow he got away and was coming home to us,” he recalled.
At some point, his father’s death slipped in the realm of acceptance, but the younger Lockett was still hopeful his remains would be found and returned. That’s until the current North Korean regime came into power. Its contentious relationship with the U.S. has not exactly led to relations that would lead to the return of fallen warriors.
“I said, ‘There’s no way America can go in there now looking for remains,’” he recalled.
The younger Lockett would soon find out his father’s remains were not in North Korea as he believed, but in Hawaii, home of the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific. They were transported there in 1954 when an exchange of remains occurred. The cemetery is known as the “Punch Bowl,” where large numbers of unidentified veterans are laid to rest.
Last year, through advances in technology, some of the remains were positively identified after being re-examined using existing medical records. Several local newspapers reported Cpl. Lockett was specifically identified via his collarbone, said to be as unique as a fingerprint.
The family received the news via phone a few weeks before Christmas, said Ms. Lockett, just several days’ difference from the date he was captured 64 years ago. The revelation was a surprise, a gift and a world of relief all at once, she said.
“I dropped the phone,” she said, conveying she had difficulty believing her husband was finally coming home. Members of a Fort Lee casualty assistance team visited the family residence and further explained the findings. “I’m still in shock.”
At Cpl. Lockett’s burial Saturday, long procession of family, friends and well-wishers, led by members of the Patriot Guard Riders motorcycle club, meandered through the streets leading to Forest Lawn Cemetery in Richmond.
The attendees solemnly filed into the facility from a warm, sunny curb side into a cool, shaded mausoleum where a clergyman spoke of the sacrifices of Cpl. Lockett and his family.
As his words echoed around the stone surroundings, Ms. Lockett dabbed her eyes. Moments later, shots from a three-volley salute disturbed the silence. A Fort Lee bugler followed with the reflective notes of “Taps.”
In steady and measured movements, two members of the funeral detail removed the flag from the casket and ceremoniously folded it. It was presented to Ms. Lockett. Another was presented to her son who was seated next to her. The two sat attentively but with a sense of peace that was clearly evident.
Afterward, the younger Lockett smiled, even laughed as he received condolences and sympathies from those who attended. He said he was grateful for the various acts of kindness shown to his family by the military and others and felt a glowing pride in how things played out.
“To see all the other branches (of service) show respect and honor, especially the guys on the motorcycles,” he said.
The younger Lockett went on to thank his pastor, Bishop Gerald O. Glenn, and the New Deliverance Evangelical Church family for their immeasurable support.
“They made me feel very proud of my father,” he said.
Finally, said the younger Lockett, nothing could replace his father, but there is comfort in knowing what happened to him and comfort in laying him to rest with the greatest measure of dignity – that of a Soldier who honorably served his country.
“My mother has closure, and my father has a resting place. I am happy and relieved it is over,” he said.
More than 54,000 Americans died during the Korean War. An estimated 7,800 are still unaccounted for.
| Date Taken: | 04.16.2015 |
| Date Posted: | 04.16.2015 13:51 |
| Story ID: | 160195 |
| Location: | RICHMOND, VA, US |
| Web Views: | 58 |
| Downloads: | 2 |
This work, Honor, closure: Soldier's remains returned after nearly 64 years, by Terrance Bell, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
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