After serving in the Korean War, Master Sergeant Roy Head was captured by Chinese forces on February 11, 1951, and died in captivity. His remains returned home in Kingsport, TN, on June 3—crossing the long, harsh bridge of 59 years. It was a homecoming marked by sorrow and grace.

Records show that Master Sergeant Head died on April 30, 1951, in Suan Prison, located in Hwanghae Province, North Korea, and operated by Chinese forces. His remains were identified through DNA testing by the U.S. military, which had received the remains of over 2,000 American soldiers from North Korea in 1993.

When my husband and I heard that Master Sergeant Head’s remains were returning home, we felt compelled to attend the funeral—even though we had never met his family. As Koreans, it was our silent gesture of respect for a man who shed blood on our soil, and for the family who had endured decades of waiting, grief, and pain.

During the memorial service, we learned much about Master Sergeant Head. Born in 1922, he had served in the U.S. Navy during World War II, stationed in Germany. After his discharge, he married and enrolled in college. But when the Korean War broke out, he was drafted into the U.S. Army and sent to the battlefield.

His parents, who had waited for him for many years, had already passed away. Yet at the funeral, a letter written by his mother, Mary Head, in 1954 was printed in the program. She had written it in anguish upon learning of her son’s death:

“My beloved son—though he died as a prisoner of war in enemy territory, God was with him. In the moment my son bled and breathed his last… My brave son—today, only the Bronze Star remains, shining with silent glory, sorrow, and the cry of pain, remembering a distant frozen land. A boy who grew up with great promise is now gone. I hold his proud uniform to my chest, no longer needed in heaven. With burning duty to his country and hope for freedom for all mankind, my son shed his blood for you and me. Many have forgotten him, but I will never forget the day my beloved son returned in sorrow. I pray—if war ever comes again, I will send my son far, far away to hide.”

After the service, we met Sergeant Head’s younger brother and his family. We also embraced his wife, Anne, now a grandmother, who had remarried long ago but returned to receive her husband’s remains. In her frail body, in the touch of her thin bones, we felt the unspeakable sorrow and the deep pain of war. Who had crushed their hearts so cruelly? Who had offered innocent lives as sacrifice?

For the first time, a fierce longing for peace and freedom for all humanity surged within me. And Sergeant Roy Head’s return became, in my heart, a sacred homecoming—one that revealed to me that every person on this earth is a brother to be embraced.