File photo by JEFFREY HASTINGS Nashua Fire Rescue Chief Brian Rhodes hands Korean War veteran Bob Desmond an NFR challenge coin in recognition of Desmond's donation in January of hundreds of N91 masks to NFR and Nashua police. (File photo by JEFFREY HASTINGS )

Many longtime Nashuans know Bob Desmond as the youth baseball guru who’s coached and guided generations of local kids from neighborhood sandlots to Holman Stadium and beyond.

But there are plenty of others, some still with us, too many, unfortunately, no longer with us, who recognize, or had recognized, Desmond as the proud Korean War veteran as active as one can be in military and veterans circles.

It was just a few months ago that Desmond, at age 89, took on the task of coordinating the delivery of hundreds of N95 masks to New Hampshire, to be distributed to the state’s Korean War veterans.

At the time, Nashuans, Granite Staters and fellow Americans were still in the grips of the COVID-19 pandemic, a dark, difficult time that has only recently given way to meaningful progress in the battle to minimize, and eventually eradicate, the virus that took way too many lives and sickened many more.

The masks were part of a huge shipment of around 500,000 masks that the Korean government sent to the United States for distribution to America’s living Korean War veterans.

File photo by JEFFREY HASTINGS Longtime Nashua resident and Korean War veteran Bob Desmond, left, chats with, from left, Deputy Police Chief Kevin Rourke, Nashua Fire Rescue Assistant Chief Steve Buxton, NFR Chief Brian Rhodes, and Police Chief Mike Carignan after Desmond presented the agencies with hundreds of N95 masks back in January. (Photo by JEFFREY HASTINGS )

It turned out that the portion of the shipment that Desmond arranged for distribution to New Hampshire’s Korean War vets was way more than needed; sadly, it seems there are only about 45 Korean War vets left in New Hampshire.

So what to do with the rest of the masks?

Back in January, as everyone surely remembers, there was no such thing as having too many available masks – especially among firefighters, police and paramedics, known collectively as first responders.

So Desmond got busy finding a solution to the mask “overstock.” It didn’t take long.

Desmond first set aside a portion of the masks for the Liberty House, a unique, “veterans-helping-veterans” facility in Mancheser for struggling veterans.

Then he made some calls, and a few days later, a group of Nashua first responders – police Chief Mike Carignan and Deputy Chief Kevin Rourke, along with Nashua Fire Rescue Chief Brian Rhodes and Assistant Chief Steve Buxton – came by the Hunt Community, Desmond’s home for the last several years, and thanked him for thinking of them.

It just so happened that the mask-presentation visit coincided with the 40th anniversary of one of the most monumental events in recent American history, and one that Desmond, the decorated Korean War veteran who went on to become a career air traffic controller, was so proud and humbled to be involved in.

Jan. 20, 1981, was a Sunday, and sometime during the afternoon hours, Desmond and his coworkers began preparing for a particular aircraft to appear on their radar.

Its call sign, “Freedom One,” only hinted at the truly momentous significance of this flight: The roughly 60 individuals aboard the previously anonymous Air Force VC-137 included the 52 Americans just freed from 444 days of captivity in Iran.

The first voice the crew and passengers heard in the U.S. came from the Nashua center. Desmond recalls it was that of fellow controller Frank Bednarz.

“You have just entered the United States of America – we wish to welcome you home and thank you for a job well done,” Bednarz said in part.

In the meantime, Desmond, discussing with coworkers what they could do to celebrate the plane’s arrival home, had secured a recording of “America the Beautiful.”

At song’s end, a voice expressing collective gratitude came over the radio. “There’s not a dry eye in the aircraft,” the speaker said.

Without hesitation, Bednarz leaned into the microphone. “Well, sir, there’s not a dry eye in the control room either.”

Dean Shalhoup may be reached at 594-1256 or dshalhoup@nashuatelegraph.com.