Korean War Veteran
Internet Journal for the World’s
Veterans of the Korean War
December 15, 2015
Tonight they stand along the DMZ in the
footsteps we made there more than 60 years ago
They still stand along the southern border of the Demilitarized Zone in South
Korea, overlooking the same positions taken by United Nations Forces in late 1951,
and held by the troops from 17 allied nations and the Republic of Korea through to
the signing of the armistice in 1953.
Troops from the allied nations stayed in place for a few years, but gradually were
replaced by South Korean and American units.
For the past several years, now, following the reduction of US Forces present in
Korea, the DMZ is guarded by ROK troops, from the west coast to the east coast,
where it ascends above the 49th Parallel.
The vigil is lonely, the duty marked by patrols along the wire, and inside of the
wire. In addition to the units based in outpost bunkers along the line, other ROK
soldiers are positioned on the north side of the wire, on advanced outpost positions
within the DMZ.
Some veterans who served in places like Hill 355, also called Little Gibraltar, or
Dagmar, and others like the Hook, would give virtually anything to step on that
ground once more to reminisce and feel again the stir of emotions old and know
that their presence there made a people free – although during the war most had
fervently wished, and probably most of them had prayed, to get off of those
positions safely and escape the hourly torment and the hurt and the ever impending
risk to life.
The ROK troops do that duty now, and have for half a century.
On massive Hill 355, which overlooks the length of the entire Samichon Valley,
even beyond the Samichon River to features like the Vegas, Reno and Carson
Outposts that saw much action for the U.S. Marines in the last months of the war,
and the Hook and others, the duty is almost solemn.
One cannot rove freely over the expansive Hill 355 position. The ROK soldiers
must stay along well marked trails and in areas certified clear of landmines.
Beyond those safe areas, mines from the war and many, many more from the post
war years, await victims. Sometimes the animal wildlife will set them off.
The hill is virtually scattered with shrapnel and spent bullets and bent and blunted
and ricocheted bullets, and they can be scooped from the shale chips by the handful.
The brass bullet cartridges, though, those not retrieved for salvage, have corroded
and rusted away, so too have the thousands of charger clips from the Australian,
British and Canadian Enfield rifles, and the clips from the standby American M-1
rifles.
Some of our Fallen were never recovered and their remains have stayed there
beneath tons of shale and logs and other litter from blown up bunkers, for when the
enemy shells came down before one of their assaults they came by the thousand;
they churned the earth like a great fiery bulldozer, raising it up in unbelievably
huge waves that dropped on the hapless soldiers, who had been stunned or killed
by the blasts.
So, too lie the bones fragments from parts of many bodies, although no one likes to
think of such grizzly things, but those who were there know that it is true. They
know that the great hill is the grave for many enemy soldiers as well as some of
their own comrades, for the enemy fell there and on the approaches to Hill 355 by
the hundreds and many, many were never recovered by their own burial squads.
Kowang-san – Oil painting by noted Canadian war artist and Korean War Veteran
Edward “Ted” Zuber, who served in Korea with The Royal Canadian Regiment
and was positioned on Hill 355 when it was attacked by enemy forces on October
23, 1952. The painting depicts an enemy attack coming in. In the center distance,
Hill 227, where many enemy formations are coming from, is under intense allied
artillery fire. The soldiers in foreground are moving forward to form up for a
counterattack on one of the Hill 355 features. The huge painting, measuring six
feet wide by four feet deep was paid for by donations from Canadian Korean War
Veterans. It was presented to the War Memorial of Korea as a gift from them in
November, 2010, in a ceremony that took place during the Turn Toward Busan
revisit held that year. Some Canadian veterans and U.S. veterans who had served
on the position were present in a morning champagne reception hosted by
Canadian Ambassador David Chadderton. - Courtesy Ted Zuber, Zubergallery.com
So the great hill, Kowang san, is there, a grave to some, a memorial to thousands,
perhaps a monument, too, to those who with blood and guts and iron will,
withstood the assaults of the enemy, and fixed the line in that place at 38.06 N
126.55 E, just a tad north of the 38th Parallel, though the enemy so badly wanted to
recapture it and push them south.
On the nearby great Hill 317, Miryang-san, some two miles distant by line of sight,
but a horrid hard overland slog, North Korean troops hold their vigil, though they
are not so many in number. Along the DMZ the North Korean Army has sited
special ground detection radar sets, which can spot the movement of even the little
wild boars, regardless of available light or visibility screened by the frequent haze.
Of the ROK soldiers, many are very young, as most of us were young. In South
Korea every youth must register to serve his nation and at age 18 or a little beyond,
he gets his classification and soon thereafter serves in the armed forces, or else in
the national police service.
Those long lines of “riot police” as CNN and other TV networks brand them, are
young fellows, many in their teens, who opted to serve their country as special
policemen armed by wooden swords, controlling demonstrators and keeping order
where catastrophes occur. They can re-arm with submachine guns, should the
national threat level warrant it, but for most of their service most of them keep
vigil wielding the wooden sticks.
For both types of service there is no other reward than to serve one’s country. The
young ROK soldier is paid $4 a month and his family is expected to send him
money if he needs it. The Army provides him with soap, towels, tooth paste,
shaving cream – though most don’t shave – and he gets kit, uniform, boots, all of
which most are proud to wear… but most of them long night after night for their
service to end, for two years seems an awfully long time to a youth in his zestful
teens, or not much older, especially if he has a high school sweetheart at home.
So they patrol the long line, and they watch tirelessly and they look into the
darkness as we did, and maybe are drenched by a wicked winter rain which turns
to sleet and then huge wet flakes of snow which blow against them and form a rind
of slush on their parkas… as happened with us.
They very carefully avoid detection but no doubt risk tough discipline by lighting
up a smoke in the palm of their hand, shielding the light from the flame with a
jacket or blanket draped over their head and then cupping the cigarette so that no
trace of the glowing ash can show. We did that, of course.
We did that and our breath would condense on the hot cigarette and in its smoke
and eventually the paper would be soggy and it was miserable, but we did it.
Maybe ingesting the hot smoke warmed our insides and imaginatively our spirits,
for being close to death as we all were then makes one icy inside. Half a century
later many of our comrades have fallen with various cancers the researchers now
say came from the heavy smoking acquired in the war, and many of us still walk
around so afflicted.
But like our young ROK comrades who today and tonight stand in our place
overlooking those positions – or on them, for places like the old Yong Dong
position abaft the Samichon River that looks up the valley of the creek that runs
past the Warsaw and the Sausage and the Hook and the others in that terrible place,
today it is the position of a ROK command post.
Yet there is no trench, no foot path, no indication that the position was held by a
succession of units, and once was a maze where the incumbents lived burrowed in
the ground and the hills were so thick with barbed wire it looked like shiny steel
undergrowth. It was a relatively safe position, compared to most.
Like the outpost that overlooks the great Hill 355, today this one permits visitors to
come and look with awe out over the DMZ, but they are mostly very high
ranking dignitaries, like Prime Ministers or Presidents, or veterans returned to
Korea on one of the visits sponsored by the Ministry of Patriots and Veterans
Affairs... the veterans are totally thankful for the grand experience, for those hills,
this place and that place and what happened there have been in their memories and
in their hearts through many decades.
U.S. Soldiers in Winter During The Korean War, by artist Chris Collingwood,
Cranston Fine Arts, www.military-art.com
Some of the veteran revisit programs held for United States veterans go to battle
sites in the Punch Bowl area, or a little west of the Samichon where the 1st U.S.
Marine Division spent much of 1952 and 1953 fighting straight through until the
cease fire in July, fighting along outpost hills like Vegas, Reno, Carson… although
the marines surely suffered on the Hook just east of there in October, 1952.
The Marines fought all over Korea, of course, first along the Naktong River in the
Busan Perimeter in the summer of 1950, then in the amphibious landings at
Incheon in September, 1950 and on through to Seoul, and then in the terrible
battles at the Chosun (Nangjin) Reservoir, before fighting in the Punchbowl area,
and in mid-March, 1952 redeploying to gird and anchor the extreme west flank of
the front line.
But the battle sites not situated along the DMZ, have long been peaceful and folks
there are at ease in the hard won freedom these fighters from other lands shed their
blood to give to them.
Yet not so on the positions along the DMZ, which, from the end of 1951 through to
July, 1953, was the battlefront and the many hills were places of the most
unimaginable horror when they were under bombardment and attack. Those who
held them never gave up the fight. The line held.
The land south of the line became free and every square foot of it is so today.
The hills run into each other and every one of them was hard won and hard held.
On every one of them soldiers from the allied nations died and their enemies died
as well.
The names of the positions are deep in the minds of those who served on them and
whose comrades fell on them: Bunker Hill, Pork Chop, White Horse, Big and
Little Noris, 187, 282, Harry, Old Baldy, Heartbreak Ridge, Kelly, Reno, T-Bone,
White Horse, Eerie, Triangle… and even point 1090, known then as Christmas Hill.
These are some; there were many, many others. They are in our minds and in our
hearts, fondly or coldly, but there, rooted in our youths. None can deny it.
So tonight, all of us, as old soldiers do, will think of the war in Korea and our
comrades - we all do it at this time of year - and we can take solace and pride that
very young ROK soldiers stand in our places in the darkness and the snow – yes,
snow has come to the high ground, though in the eastern half of Canada and the
United States it has been unusually mild – and we may wonder, and if they don’t
they should think about the soldiers from 17 nations who stood in those same
places more than 60 years ago, a span of time that likely older than the age of most
of their grandparents, yet to us the blink of an eye.
We hope that they will think of us, and in reciprocity, we should all think of them.
The ground we won and the ground we held is precious, and they guard that great
treasure fervently.
They will be there on Christmas Eve and on Christmas Day, in the places where
we once served.
Winter snow blankets figures on the Korean War Veterans Memorial in
Washington, DC, invoking the winters known by all troops who served in Korea in
the war years of 1950-1953, and on defence duty yet after, and those who served
on the line still. Photograph by Carol M. Highsmith