Andy and Barney make for a Korean War reunion

Nov. 11—Not every war story has Sheriff Andy Taylor and Deputy Barney Fife in it, but this one does.

During one lazy afternoon back in the 1990s, Jack Sealy was in his living room in Georgia, doing what he always did at that time of day.

He was parked in his recliner, catching a rerun of "The Andy Griffith Show, " the landmark situation comedy co-starring Don Knotts of Sunnyside, who won five Emmys for his portrayal of the above-mentioned bumbling deputy.

Griffith honored that hometown lineage by featuring walk-on characters in his fictional Mayberry, who were written to be from Knotts' real-life Morgantown.

One mention of the city in north-central West Virginia in this particular episode, and the icy vault of Sealy's buried memories from Korea — he was a Prisoner of War there — melted open, just like that.

"Wait a minute, " he said.

"Joe Lawson."

Lawson, a rangy kid from Osage, was a little older than most of the guys in his unit when he mustered into the service in 1950 as President Truman turned all-in on Korea.

With his quick wit and comical observations, Lawson could be silly in a second, but at 22, he was mature enough to be a good soldier in drill while keeping basic training in perspective — a dynamic that made him a kind of de facto big brother to the other guys in the barracks who were mostly younger.

That became even more so, once they got into the field.

Sealy started wondering what happened to his fellow POW who hailed from the hills. Maybe he was still with us, he thought.

If he was, the old soldier reasoned, he probably still lived in Morgantown.

So, he picked up the phone and started calling.

Not long after, they were together at a Prisoner of War reunion for the soldiers of the U.S. Army's Company B, of the 32nd Infantry, 7th Division.

And so were a lot of others who didn't know if they were going to die in that subzero camp, in that war-torn place, so long ago.

Joe Jr., Lawson's son, still marvels that Mayberry got his dad's buddies back.

"Can you believe it ?"

Bugles and bullets At precisely 2 a.m. on Nov. 27, 1950, the most hotly contested piece of real estate in North Korea got even more so.

The elder Lawson and his fellow soldiers were encamped and shivering at the Chosin Reservoir — "The Frozen Chosin " — near the 38th Parallel, a bit of latitude and longitude that would mean everything in the war that never really ended.

As Lawson recalled, a bugle sounded — "And all hell broke loose."

The Chinese charged. Two soldiers in his unit raised their hands in surrender only to be shot dead in response.

Lawson fired his weapon and saw soldiers fall.

It's not easy trying to take cover in frozen earth. He initially carried bandoliers of cartridges on his shoulder.

"But I was so scared I couldn't find them, " he recalled.

The onslaught was relentless. An incoming mortar round took out four more of his fellow soldiers and the wounded comrade they were carrying.

Another was shot in the throat, and the blood from that wound spilled onto Lawson, who, suddenly, again found his M-1 in his hands.

The lethal battle of real estate and ideology ensued for three days.

"We started again, " Lawson said. "Running, killing, screaming, crying — until our lungs were on fire."

His legs were on fire, too. He was hit and could no longer go.

On Dec. 2, 1950, six days after a bugle call punched the arctic-feeling air of the 38th Parallel, Joe Lawson of Osage was a Prisoner of War.

(Tentative) courting at the movie theater A few weeks before he was drafted, Joe started thinking — a lot — about a pretty girl from Pursglove named Mary Jane Saffron.

One evening, during the main feature at the Osage movie theater in the once-bustling coal camp, he made it a point to plant himself in the seat next to hers, so he could watch her, watching the Hollywood stars on the screen.

"It was cute, " the now-90-year-old said, with a girlish giggle, of the man she would marry.

"I laughed. He could always make me laugh."

When he was called up, she was sure that also meant a ticket to Korea.

"I didn't know he was a POW until we got the letter."

His parents, Arthur and Mary. Her, too.

She wanted to believe he would come home.

Still, she didn't know.

How could anyone know ?

No small potatoes Lawson would be interred in two camps before it was all done.

The trip to the second one was a month-long march at night (so as to avoid shelling) during which he deployed a once-discarded pair of galoshes wrapped in T-shirts to keep his feet warm.

There were close calls with firing squads and emotional and physical abuse over his refusal to salute the ones who imprisoned him.

He and his fellow captives were given two potatoes and a cup of hot water twice daily.

When a POW died (and death was inevitable) he was propped up to look as though he were sleeping, so guards would still deliver his potatoes — which were then shared among the prisoners.

The kid from Osage who was slender to begin with, weighed around 90 pounds after he was liberated.

Two years.

Seven months.

And 20 days.

Band of Brothers The above quotes attributed to Lawson are from an essay Joe Jr. penned for his college English composition class (he got an A) — and also from the account personally written by his dad, which he discovered after his death on the afternoon of Aug. 30, 2002.

Joe Sr.'s memories encompassed several sheets of paper.

Written in pencil.

One long paragraph, really, with no erasure marks and hardly anything marked out.

"After 38 years, I thought I would tell some of my story about the Chosin Reservoir, " it began.

He eventually told all of his war story to his son, but as Joe Jr. is quick to say, his father never glorified anything.

"He never talked about it much, " his son said.

Joe Sr. did engage the enemy up close, he admitted, but he wasn't John Wayne.

He was just a guy from Osage, suddenly in deep.

As Joe Jr. muses, there's marked difference between saying, "Look at what I did, " opposed to "Here's what I had to do."

Joe Sr. and Mary Jane couldn't help but laugh during that first POW reunion.

They were at the hotel and heard his buddies were on the fifth floor. They took the elevator up, only to find everyone else had taken the elevator down. This went on for a couple of runs.

Then, they couldn't stop the tears, Mary Jane said.

"We're back on the first floor, and all these hands are grabbing at Joe's soldiers."

The Chosin Few, including that Andy Griffith-watching buddy from Georgia, reunited.

"They were all hugging and crying, " she said. "They stayed that way a long time."

Wedding bands, too Along with Joe Jr., there were two girls, Laura and Mary Jo.

There were grandchildren, great-grandchildren, Thanksgiving dinners and summer vacation.

A bugle call of joy, this time.

Joe was a coal miner who eventually dug his way to supervisor.

The guys on his crew loved him. He made them laugh, too.

You would never know, Mary Jane and Joe Jr. said, that he had been through all that on an icy battlefield.

A few weeks after he was home, and getting his weight and his spirit back, he was out strolling with Mary Jane.

It wasn't a proposal. It was more like a proclamation.

He said, we need to get married.

And she said, yes, we do.

In their calculator of heart, two years, seven months and 20 days — came out to 48 years.

Just like that.

"I'm really glad he sat next to me at the movies that night."