'He's gone'
by David Simon
News-Post Staff

	U.S. Army Sgt. Norman L. Reid had to fight with his father to let him join the military when he was 17. He joined in 1947 and went on to serve in the Korean War. He was reported missing in action Nov. 26, 1950. His remains have never been found. Courtesy photo View additional photos:
	In their words: Charlotte Garrett
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PHILADELPHIA — Living alone in an apartment, Charlotte Garrett still clings to the memories of her youngest brother.

The eldest of seven siblings from a Braddock Heights family, Garrett, 87, is the last alive — the others scattered about the country and have since died. She hasn't thought much about who will inherit the zippered case filled with letters, war records, medals and other memorabilia of U.S. Army Sgt. Norman L. Reid.

"It'll probably go to my niece," she said.

Whoever inherits those heirlooms never knew Reid — he joined the Army in 1947 when he was 17 and was reported missing in action Nov. 26, 1950.

Norman's father was Paul Reid, a Braddock Heights farmer who owned Reid's Barber Shop on All Saints Street in Frederick. He was hesitant to let his youngest son join the military and rejected the necessary paperwork.

"Dad didn't want to sign it because he was the last child and he was looking for someone to take over the business," Garrett said. "He created such a stink — cussin' and fussin' — all his brothers had served and he wanted to get to see the sights."

Paul relented and let his son go.

He didn't send him empty-handed.

Norman carried with him the "Reid Creed," Garrett said, a strict philosophy that no Reid would ever do anything to embarrass his family and that he would always keep a stiff upper lip.

In late November 1950, Reid was serving in the Army's 24th Infantry Regiment. American, South Korean and United Nations forces had driven North Korea's soldiers from South Korea and were pressing hard in a drive north to reunite the two countries.

As the allies raced north toward the Yalu River — the international boundary between the Koreas and China — more than 300,000 Chinese soldiers had sneaked into the hills of North Korea and lay hidden, preparing to launch a surprise attack on the advancing allied forces.

On Nov. 25, 1950, Reid's 1st Battalion was holding the 24th's left flank. His and two other battalions were spread among the ridges east of the Chongch'on Valley, less than 60 miles from the Yalu River. They were the northernmost troops in the field and just a few miles south of the hidden Communist Chinese forces.

The next morning, the soldiers began advancing north in rough terrain. Reid and the rest of the 1st Battalion were planning to link up with a combined arms formation — Task Force Dolvin. The hills made radio communication impossible and the 1st became isolated, marching right past the rendezvous point.

By nightfall, no one in either the 24th or Task Force Dolvin knew where the 1st Battalion was. They were able to get a message through, however, ordering the 1st to fall back to Task Force Dolvin's position ...

Norman maintained regular contact with his family while he was in the Army, writing about once a month, Garrett said. The only person who didn't hear about his time in Korea was his grandmother, Pauline Reid. The family wanted to protect her from worrying.

"She was a beautiful soul," Garrett said.

That's how the Reids were, Garrett said, tough but sensitive. As the oldest, Garrett, who was 10 when Norman was born, had many chores on the Reid farm. Along with regular duties such as milking cows and collecting eggs, she was charged with caring for the babies — changing diapers, rocking them to sleep.

That was true especially after their mother, Ruth Cruse-Reid, died when Norman was 8 months old.

Norman, or "Normie," as his brothers and sisters called him, was a typical kid, Garrett said. Another boy once pushed him off a park swing in Frederick, and Norman broke both his arms. Other than that, he had no real problems growing up.

"It was a beautiful experience," Garrett said of growing up in the country. "It felt isolated and I wanted to be in the big city, but it was so pretty in the mountains — beautiful, pure."

Norman was closest to his brother, Thomas Reid, who served four years in the Army but never saw active duty, Garrett said.

An undated letter to Tommy that Norman mailed before he left for Korea shows the bond the brothers shared.

"Gee boy, I'm going to miss you. I don't mind saying as far for me, I think you're the best in the world ... take it easy because I'm going to think of you a lot," he wrote.

Before the 1st Battalion could backtrack to meet with Task Force Dolvin, Chinese forces launched a series of heavy attacks along the American line. One of their main targets was Task Force Dolvin.

Because the 1st Battalion was not in the right position, guarding Task Force Dolvin's right flank, it avoided the brunt of the attack.

Still, Reid and the other members of D Company were in the thick of things. They ran into the enemy and a firefight began; some soldiers in D Company repelled the soldiers and fell back to a defensive position closer to Task Force Dolvin. Others were surrounded and taken prisoner.

The Army isn't sure exactly what happened to Norman.

A Nov. 27, 1951, Department of the Army memo states, "... subject enlisted man became missing in action near Ipsok, Korea. His unit states that Reid was seriously wounded in the night of 26 November 1950 and sent to the aid station by litter jeep. Numerous litter jeeps were ambushed and strewn along the road that night. There is no assurance that he was in one of those jeeps, however, ... there is no record of his being processed through the aid or the clearing station or of his having been admitted to any hospital in Korea or Japan ..."

Lacking information about whether Norman survived, the Army issued a presumptive finding of death Dec. 31, 1953. At the end of the Korean War, more than 4,000 former prisoners of war were debriefed. Not one reported seeing him.

After hearing the news, each Reid family member moved on in his or her own separate way. Garrett said she kept thinking her brother might come home.

On March 4, 1955, the Army sent the Reid family a letter asking for any identifying birthmarks and dental records. That was tough for the family, Garrett said.

Hope, she said, for all those years, was a blessing and a curse.

"You're just in limbo ... we just kept on hoping — you keep thinking 'it could be, it could be' but then the last straw comes — that's it — well, that's it, he's gone," Garrett said.

The U.S. Defense Prisoner of War/Missing Personnel Office, which is tasked with determining what happened to the remains of roughly 88,000 unaccounted-for military service members from World War II to the present, is continuing to seek information about Norman.

Each of the past four years, DPMO representatives have met with soldiers who might have served with him. No one has been able to provide any new information.

The last time Reid's family heard from him was in a letter dated Sept. 7, 1950 — a little more than a month before he went missing.

"Dear mom, I just got your letter two days ago," he wrote. "It was swell hearing from you. I'm doing OK and I still have that stiff upper lip. I wish I could write grandma, but not much time. Love, Normie."