When Kathy Poulsen Romero began sorting through a bundle of 72 letters written by her late father, Medford Poulsen, she expected glimpses of the Korean War through the eyes of a young artilleryman. What she discovered instead was a tender, unfiltered record of devotion between two strangers—her father and her mother, Lila—who met on a blind date in Utah before war carried him halfway around the world.

Author Kathy Romero. (Photo courtesy of Kathy Romero)

Her new book, “Love Letters from Heartbreak Ridge,” reveals both the soldier’s daily peril and his emotional lifeline: the woman who became his wife.

“Initially it was his sincere gratitude that my mother, Lila, had sent the opening letter after they had met on a blind date,” Romero explained. “Throughout the course of the entire 72 letters he always mentioned how grateful and blessed he felt to know he had a beautiful girl back home waiting for him. That gave him the courage and will to fight and survive, and ultimately get back home to his girl in Utah.”

A War He Never Spoke Of

Romero describes her astonishment at the candor of the letters.

“Every single letter was a surprise,” she said. “Neither my brother nor I had ever heard our dad talk about his war experiences, much less the fact that he ended up on the front lines in the artillery at Heartbreak Ridge.”

Her father’s modesty concealed distinctions, including a sharpshooter’s medal. But the letters show him carefully balancing honesty with restraint, sketching the dangers of battle without subjecting Lila to graphic details. “Weeks would go by between my mom receiving his letters,” Romero recalled. “All you had to hold on to was faith and hope that he was still alive.”

What Was Heartbreak Ridge?

Medford Poulsen’s artillery crew in action. (Photo courtesy of Kathy Romero)

For readers unfamiliar with the conflict, Heartbreak Ridge was one of the most brutal and drawn-out battles of the Korean War. Fought in the rugged mountains of North Korea in September and October of 1951, the battle pitted U.S., French and South Korean troops against entrenched North Korean and Chinese forces. Soldiers fought on steep, rocky ridges under constant artillery fire, often at close quarters, in conditions that left little room for retreat. The fighting lasted for nearly a month, and both sides suffered heavy casualties—tens of thousands in all.

The ridge itself, scarred and contested, became symbolic of the grinding stalemate of the war: territory won at devastating cost, only to be retaken and fought over again. For men like Poulsen, serving in artillery on those front lines, survival often depended as much on sheer will as on firepower.

Fear and Vulnerability

One of the book’s most arresting moments comes when Poulsen confronts his own dread.

“Honey, I just can’t seem to get it out of my mind the idea of going into combat—how will I react and what’s going to happen?” he wrote. “All I have heard in our orientations the past few days is Kill! Kill! or be killed and it’s weighing on my mind so much that I feel as though I will go crazy. Why do I have to be here? I’ll fight, honey, for all I’m worth because thinking of you will give me added faith and courage.”

Such admissions of fear, rarely voiced in person, form the beating heart of the correspondence. 

Medford Poulsen during the Korean War. (Photo courtesy of Kathy Romero)

A Love Story in Ink

 The book is also, unmistakably, a love story.

 On June 3, 1951, writing from Pusan, he told Lila: “Darling, you mean more to me than anything on earth, and I want you to know that thinking of you has given me the faith and courage to see this thing through. I WILL come back honey.”

The letters chart his shift from cautious optimism to the hardened reflections of a man changed by war. “As time goes on you sense how he is changing,” Romero observed. “One cannot experience first-hand the things that combat soldiers on the ground are exposed to continuously without it altering the way they look at life.”

Humor and Humanity

Amid danger, humor persisted. Medford teased Lila affectionately, calling her a “cute little sh--,” a term Romero recalls from their marriage decades later. He even downplayed calamities with levity:

“My tent was hit and burned to the ground (I’m sure glad I wasn’t in it),” he wrote. “Darling, please don’t worry now as everything is under control once again, and I’m OK.”

 The Letter That Endures

For Romero, one letter eclipses the rest: March 13, 1952, written in Sasebo, Japan.

“Honey, guess what? I’m on my way home! It came as a complete surprise to me as they only gave me a few hours’ notice to get ready. Many of the boys won’t return home but I’m sure they won’t have died in vain. I just hope that it won’t be too much longer before they all can return.”

“Every time I read this letter I cry,” Romero said. “The countless emotions and euphoria that go along with ‘I’m on my way home!’ can only truly resonate with all the military families who are lucky enough to receive a letter like this.”

Preserving Love and Memory

In “Love Letters from Heartbreak Ridge,” Romero does more than publish her parents’ private correspondence. She frames their story as a reminder of the quiet courage of families who endured wars without fanfare.

“They taught me so much about life, love, understanding and the freeing power of forgiving,” said. “And I think to myself, thank you Dad and Mom, for leaving this precious yet painful history.”

For readers, the book offers both a history lesson and an intimate chronicle of two young people whose faith in each other withstood one of the bloodiest battles of the Korean War.

More information on Romero and her book, “Love Letters from Heartbreak Ridge,” can be found online at www.authorkathyromero.com.