Column: Like my dad before me, I treasure my old Army pals

Memorial Day brings memories.

I remember that occasionally during my youth in Costa Mesa in the 1950s and ’60s my father’s old Army buddies would drop by to discuss times past.

Dad had served with them during the second World War and he always greeted them warmly.

Gen. William “Tecumseh” Sherman visited his “boys” for decades following the Civil War. It’s true; soldiers become “brothers.”

I caught a glimpse of that after serving in the Army. While in uniform, I made the closest friendships of my life. I was discharged 51 years ago, in 1967, and can to this day close my eyes and see every member of my old “brotherhood.”

There was David, the wise cracking, Jeep-driving barracks lawyer from Detroit; Mac, the no-nonsense staff sergeant from inner-city Philadelphia who was my roommate and confidant; “Darce,” the “Melancholy Irishman” and gifted newspaper editor from NYC; O’Hara, the company clerk with a heart as big as his biceps; Mark, the moneyed “College Boy” from the Bay Area; Johnny “Ski,” the burly Polish-American linebacker from the mines of Pennsylvania; John T. the “Man of Mystery,” and few words, from Baltimore; Errol, the smooth talkin’ Frenchman from Baton Rouge, L.a., who was forever reminding us that his name was “Errol, not Earl!”; and, “Ralphie Boy,” the electronics wiz from Chi-Town.

And there were more.

I loved those guys. I remember them today as if I last saw them only weeks ago. It’s crazy. In my mind, it’s as though they’re still in Korea pulling duty without me.

Me? I’m plumping like a ripe date in the desert heat.

We knew where each of us hailed from. That was central to our culture. I was “Jimmy from LaLa Land” (California). My buddies and I were stationed in Korea — 6,000-plus miles from home.

We got into tiffs; shared a beer or two; laughed uproariously at one another’s’ stories and jokes; used salty language; talked incessantly about home and the future; were individual Apostle Pauls, writing letters, letters, letters; and, occasionally, wept on one another’s shoulders.

We were closer than brothers.

We repeated a special ritual at the airport when it came time to rotate back to the States. Because we’d all arrived in Korea at approximately the same time — a tour of duty lasted 13 months — we were scheduled to leave within weeks of one another.

I was the lone exception.

I saw everyone off, but no one saw me off.

I was the last Jedi.

My time in Korea was extended from 13 to 18 months. With my buddies gone, I was on my own. I didn’t bother developing friendships with greenhorn replacements from the States because, frankly, I wasn’t interested. I was a short-timer and wasn’t drawn to their insipid patter.

Naturally I felt that all the real soldiers had rotated back to the States. Their proxies weren’t worthy of unzipping their shaving kits.

The last time I saw most of “my” guys was at Kimpo Airport near Seoul. They’ll never know what a huge impact they had on my life. I’d be a different person today without them.

Returning to civilian life, I went back to school and earned three college and university degrees. And I never forgot my buds.

I saw three after returning home.

“Ralphie Boy,” following his discharge, ended up in San Francisco. I flew up three or four times to see him. “Jeep-Driver David” reenlisted, married his Korean sweetheart and was reassigned to Alaska. He stopped to see me on a drive through California. I’d give a mint to see him today.

“The Moneyed College Boy” finished up at Berkeley and moved to Studio City, where he entered the advertising trade. We shared several lunches together.

Many years later, I tried looking up Ralphie again only to discover he’d long ago been killed in an automobile accident. I was crushed. He was only 32. I’d assumed for years that he was out there living his life. I had no idea.

I recently heard that one buddy died of cancer following a career in law enforcement.

Like my dad before me, I treasure my old Army pals.

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.