Traverse City resident William Cruse, left, and Lansing resident Ken Goodrich talk with Lansing resident Gordon Carr after he received a posthumous Purple Heart award on behalf of his brother, 1st Lt. Baldwin R. Carr, who died during the Korean War.
Fifty-eight years after he was killed as a prisoner of war, one soldier’s family can begin to grieve and let go.
Army 1st Lt. Baldwin R. Carr, a 1950 MSU graduate who fought in the Korean War and died at age 21 four months after his capture by Chinese soldiers, posthumously was awarded a Purple Heart medal during a ceremony Tuesday at Demonstration Hall. The oldest military decoration, the Purple Heart is given to soldiers wounded or killed at the hands of an enemy force.
Accepted by the 73-year-old man who once was the “pesky little brother” of Baldwin R. Carr, the award signified closure. Carr’s body never was returned to his family, and three years passed before they learned in 1954 he had died on Sept. 1, 1951.
“Closure — it’s a big thing,” said Gordon Carr, Baldwin R. Carr’s brother, who accepted the award. “That’s why I wish my parents were still here. My father went to his grave every day, convinced he was still alive. He never accepted it.”
During the ceremony attended by about 50 friends and family members, one of whom wore Baldwin R. Carr’s high school letter sweater, U.S. Rep. Mike Rogers, R-Brighton, spoke about the sacrifices the soldier made. Even as he faced terrible treatment while held as a prisoner, Baldwin R. Carr continued to serve as an inspiration to those around him, Rogers said.
“His family will wear (the medal) for him, as a brave and honorable distinction for someone who has done something bigger than himself,” he said.
Before he took the award on his brother’s behalf, Gordon Carr spoke of his older brother’s spirit, referring to the last letter he received from him, which never once mentioned his own plights, but instead those of the Korean children.
After the ceremony, Gordon Carr, who was 13 when he found out his brother died, spoke of the relationship the two shared.
“I was the pesky little kid he put up with,” he said. “He was the role model, alright.”
For Lauralyn Gray, cousin to the Carr brothers, the ceremony was evidence Baldwin R. Carr had not been forgotten.
“You’ve heard it over and over — gone, but not forgotten,” she said. “You hardly ever see it like you did today. You know it in your heart: you know who he was. Now you see that everybody else did, too.”
Lorayne Otto, Baldwin R. Carr’s cousin and close friend, cried as she recalled the 58 years she waited to grieve for him.
“I was just a kid,” she said, clutching a tissue. “You don’t really include kids in serious things, so I really appreciate (this ceremony) because I’ll be able to let him go. I waited all these years to really grieve — I loved him a lot, missed him a lot.”
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