Things I remember that establish some kind of a background to the "tree incident", who we were, and why we did the things we did. We by no means were completely innocent, and did many things that were fun to us, aggravating to others, could have got us in a LOT of trouble if we were ever caught, and at times, extremely disrespectful. Mostly, it was the nature of a bunch of young guys in a strange country with little of our culture to fall back on, but we had a very close, tight-knit camaraderie and “esprit de corps” within our unit. Morale was almost always extremely high, and rarely dropped. It was widely rumored among our unit, that if the balloon went up, our whole unit roster was already (and always was), on file with graves registration, so our next of kin could be notified. Our normal platoon rotations were duly noted as well, so it would be known that if anybody survived, it would be members of the off-duty platoon, but the two duty platoons were probably toast. None of us were ever expected to survive any kind of all-out offensive, just trained on how to respond to small-scale “incidents”.
Some of this is written
so people who were there will automatically know what I’m talking about, while
other parts I stray a bit so somebody who wasn’t there will gain a little
understanding of what part of it was like. There’s just no way to ever
adequately explain Korea (at the time) to somebody who wasn’t there.
The story about the
Military Armistice Commission (MAC) Meetings and the flags. At the first MAC
meeting, the UNC delegation brought a flag. The North Korean side, lost face,
and immediately left. They called another meeting a few days later and when they
showed up, they had a flag that was bigger than ours. At the next meeting, we
had a flag bigger than theirs. This game kept up until a special MAC meeting had
be called just to set the ground rules for the size of the flags, since by now
they were to big for the building. It was agreed upon that they had to small
enough to sit on the table, but I’m sure of the exact size. Their flag is wider
than ours, but ours is longer. One
side has longer fringe along the flag than the other. One side’s flagpole is
longer than the other, but the other side has a larger ball top of the flagpole.
We have three layers comprising the base of our flagpole, compared to their two,
but each layer of theirs is taller than ours. It’s this “bigger is better”
mentality that made the height requirement for Americans working at the JSA; the
North Koreans don’t have anybody as tall as we are. We also all had to display
an ability to control our temper, which probably was part of the reason we acted
the way we did once we were off duty, to let off some steam.
I don’t know how many times I was spit on by KPA guards trying to provoke
a response from me. I know that
this happened numerous times to others as well.
I suppose at this point
I should also make specific mention of our exact mission with the JSA. I mention
this because over the years, when I try and relate some of the stories to
others, they always ask why we didn’t do this or that. Our primary mission
within the JSA was the protection of visitors, both civilian tourists and
members of various military organizations, such as the Military Armistice
Commission and other visiting dignitaries. Next, whenever we observed any North
Korean violation of the armistice, which was practically a daily occurrence,
sometimes several times per day, we HAD to document it. Take plenty of pictures,
take copious notes on how many, where, what (weapons, tools, explosions), when,
who, etc. Next, if there was a violent incident within the JSA, we could only
respond with whatever actions we observed, sidearms were only allowed for use if
we actually saw one of our own (or somebody we were assigned to protect) in
imminent danger of losing their life. After the fact was of no importance, in
other words, if somebody was already killed, we still couldn’t use our sidearms
unless we actually saw somebody else who’s life was in imminent danger. To
minimize the possibility of escalation, we were never allowed the use of weapons
to defend ourselves, only others. These “Rules of Engagement” were always
drilled into us and we all understood and accepted them.
Playing hopscotch on the
Bridge of No Return. Several of us (in 2nd Plt. at least), did this when we
worked at CP#3. It was extremely funny watching the reaction of the KPA guards
across the bridge when we did this. They’d stare and stare at us with binoculars
wondering what the hell us crazy GI’s were doing.
A KPA Guard Truck approaching the KPA checkpoint at the North Korean side of the Bridge of No Return. Visible above the truck is a "farmhouse" that is actually a .51 cal. machine gun position.
I remember getting to
visit a South Korean defensive line, kind of behind Camp Liberty Bell if you
looked at it from Advance Camp. I believe the South Korean commander of this
site was Col. Rhee, since I remember keeping a newspaper article from Pacific
Stars and Stripes about his position and responsibilities. The south side looked
fairly normal, except for all the trenches and tunnel openings in it. We got the
tour of the layout, barracks areas, trench lines, and then up through some
tunnels to the north side. That side was practically a cliff, lots of barb wire,
claymores, and practically everything else. They even had some old WWII bazookas
in there.
Working tower one day
(the CP on top of CP#4, our barracks inside the JSA), when I heard a very sharp,
distinct crack go by my right ear. The only other time I heard anything close to
that sound was during AIT on the infiltration course, with rounds going over our
heads.
Going on a (JSA) night
patrol. These were very different
from the normal Army patrols. We'd sneak out the side door into the shadows
(since much of the JSA was illuminated at night). We'd be wearing our normal JSA
uniform and equipment (fatigues, bucko helmets, .45 pistol) with the addition of
carrying an axe handle. Actually, they were pick handles, but saying axe was
easier than saying pick, and we were just the normal, lazy GI afterall. We'd
make the rounds of the South (our) side of the JSA, staying in the shadows as
best as we could. Sometimes we'd sneak up close to one of the KPA guardposts and
listen. One night we heard snoring, so we crept up real close, pounded on the
walls with our axe handles, and ran back to CP#4.
Another night, we were about 30 feet away from CP#4 when some KPA came up
with a camera and took our pictures, since they wanted pictures of us carrying
our axe handles. We all tried to hide them behind our backs as best as we could,
but Sgt. Roach(?) didn't do a very good job, and his was visible, though because
of it's positioning, it looked like he was taking a giant shit.
The next day, at a Security Officers Meeting, the KPA produced the
picture, and called us "Lt. Zilka's Mad Dogs, who patrol the JSA at night and
carry big sticks!". That was when
the 2nd Plt officially became known as the "Mad Dogs", and was a name we were
proud of.
Our version of “Marionette”, from Mott the Hoople: “Sgt. Roach’s pet, well you better forget it…”
MSG Blankenship.
Blankenship was super stract. He even went so far as to have all of his pockets
sewn shut so he wouldn’t be tempted to put his hands in his pockets or even to
keep anything in his pockets that would disrupt the starched creases of his
uniform. When he left, MSG Blankenship was assigned to West Point as the CSM
(Command Sergeant Major).
The weather.
The weather in Korea can be brutal.
After my first winter there, I really had a new level of admiration for
all those men who actually had combat duty there during the fighting stage of
the Korean War. If you were an infantry soldier, especially with all of the new
technology today, there is just no way you are ever going to get warm for at
least 3 months. You’ll be subjected to living in some of the worst weather
conditions imaginable. Most of the mountains, at least there around our area of
the DMZ, seemed to run North-South, and just wound up channeling the winds
straight down from Siberia. I’ve
experienced some bitter cold here in the States, but nothing that compared to
Korea. It was also an “unique”
experience when we headed up north in the back of an open deuce.
And while I never saw more than about 2-3 inches of snow on the ground at
any one time, partly because it was constantly windy, the temperature was always
bitter. During the winters he had
these diesel space heaters in our buildings that usually glowed a bright orange.
It was miserable after being all nice and warm to venture out into the cold with
an empty diesel can and head over to the POL (Petroleum, Oil, and Lubrication)
point so we could get a refill. The summers were almost as bad, but at the other
extreme. I remember several times
when I was performing honor guard duties for one of the endless tours, and
afterwards, when we were allowed to leave, looking down and seeing a puddle of
shoe polish where my feet had been.
The monsoons really weren’t that bad, once we got accustomed to them. As I
remember, they would start at either 3:00 or 4:00 pm every day (I can’t remember
exactly what time. It was almost
like clockwork, they were so reliable. Then the sky would just dump for about 30
minutes, and then it would clear up and become unbelievably humid. The nights
there on the DMZ were unbelievable. I’ve been all over the United States, but
I’ve never seen a night sky as clear and as bright or full of stars as over
there. Without any lights anywhere
close, and no pollution to speak of, it was an amateur astronomers dream.
My 18th
birthday. About a month before my birthday, I figured out that we would be on
Day QRF that day, which meant we’d be “up North” the day/night before. Since it
was “unofficial” SOP that if you were the duty driver “up North” (meaning you
were always on call to do any driving), then you got the next day off, I started
working on how to get the duty driver position for that day. While this was
never written down as SOP, it was always followed. Well, I finally managed to
get it, but the next morning when I was expecting to be off, I was informed that
I still had to go to QRF. I had other ideas, so instead of breakfast, I showered
and changed into civvies REALLY fast, and headed out CP#1 to catch the bus. Went
down to I think Camp Pelham, in Sonju-ri, waited for the Class 6 store (liquor
store) to open, and bought myself a fifth of Wild Turkey and a fifth of Chivas
Regal. I emptied the Chivas in no time, just about an hour, most of it by
myself, then I started on the Wild Turkey for the rest of the morning. By the
time I was finally done with the Wild Turkey, I could barely sit, let alone
stand and walk, but I had to get back to camp because we (the entire unit) were
getting our gamma globulin (hepatitis) shots that day. I remember once I did
make it back to camp, I fell about 7 or 8 times into the ditch on my way to
wherever it was the shots were being given at. I went back downrange afterwards,
did my usual Yongu-gol routine of stopping at the turkey bath, followed by the
Moon Tea Room and a whore for the night.
Bob Barth. Not
especially one of the memories you’d prefer to keep, but if you were there, it’s
one that winds up staying with you. He wasn’t a bad guy at all, but one day things just got to
much for him. He was doing pretty good there, and a decent enough guy, sending
the bulk of each paycheck back home to support his mother. Since living in Korea
was so much cheaper than in the States, he extended so he’d ETS from Korea.
It wasn’t much longer after this that he found out his mother was
spending the money he was sending home on drinking and stuff, and he just kind
of lost it. He asked for a cancellation of his extension, which was refused, and
decided to force the issue. One day he kept a bunch of people, about 5 or 6 I
think, hostage in the room across the hall from him with his –16. One of the
officers at Advance Camp that day, a Capt. I think, heard what was going on and
sneaked in the barracks (actually a Quonset hut, with about 6 ft. high dividers
for each “room”). He can see the barrel of the –16 pointing out of one room
towards the room across the hall. He sneaks up, grabs the barrel and yanks.
Since Barth’s finger is on the trigger, the gun starts going off, spraying
bullets everywhere. The officer took one in the meaty part of the thigh, causing
no serious damage, and luckily he was the only one injured. It was really
amazing, since the entire magazine emptied, and with about 6 guys within 7 or 8
feet of the end of the muzzle, only one bullet hit anybody.
Afterward, I remember looking around and seeing all the bullets holes
everywhere, pit marks on the floor, etc, and shaking my head in amazement.
As I remember, Barth wound up getting something like 4 or 5 years at Ft.
Leavenworth, KS because of it. A hell of a lot longer than serving out the rest
of his time would have been. Several of us talking about it later seem to have
agreed that he wasn’t really going to shot anyone, and if the officer had stayed
out of it, he eventually would have given up, but such is life. I wasn’t in the
barracks when this happened, but I was about 50 ft away, down by where we parked
our vehicles in the morning while we had breakfast and got ready for Day QRF.
Day QRF and Night QRF.
Our schedule at the time consisted of 24 hours "up North" at the JSA, from 8:00
am one day to 8:00 am the next. Once we left, we headed down to Advance Camp,
ate breakfast, showered (if we were fast), had formation, and headed back up
north almost to the JSA where we had our Day QRF building. It was between GP
Collier (or was it Oulette) and the JSA/NNSC.
We'd do exercises, have training classes, riot control training, clean
our weapons, etc to while away the time. Around 4:30 we'd start to head back to
Advance Camp, sometimes doing a run all the way. We'd then have 24 hours of
off-duty, from 5:00 pm until 5:00 pm the next night.
This allowed us the whole night to get totally drunk, then have most of
the next day to completely recover and sober up before we started our tour of
night QRF. Night QRF was about the only night any of us ever spent in Advance
Camp. While it was about 2 miles of road up to the JSA, we would occasionally
have practice alerts to keep us on our toes. At 8:00 the next morning we started
our tour "up North" again.
A typical layout of the open duece at the Day QRF site.
June 1976 was a strange
month. For 3 Night QRF”S in a row we had had real alerts. June 4th we
had a full-scale compound alert, were we had to take our assignments in the
bunkers surrounding our Advance Camp. The 7th and 10th we
had real Night QRF alerts also. One of these nights, probably the 7th,
most of us were sitting around in the NCO club playing spades or otherwise
killing time, all dressed in civvies. We rushed out, changed into our fatigues
and ran over to the weapons room where we were issued our .45's, M-16's, and
ammo. We then had to rush back down to where our vehicles were. After a quick
formation to verify body count, we loaded up and headed north. At the entrance
to the DMZ was a chain link fence/gate manned by 2nd Div. guys from Camp Liberty
Bell. Whoever was working it that night was slow, and almost got nailed by the
first deuce as we didn't slow down, but kept it floored all the way to the QRF
site. Even with all we had to do, and the drive, we made it to the Day QRF site
in 10 minutes and change. It set a new record for Night QRF response, though it
was going to be short-lived. After the "tree incident", night QRF became
mandatory fatigues, gear and weapons.
Also during the tours,
when the tourists were inside the MAC meeting room, we had to stand guard at all
of the open windows. If we didn’t, sometimes a Joe would try to reach through
and grab something from one of the tourists.
Sometimes this led to little shoving matches outside the windows, as we’d
be standing there at parade rest, arms (actually elbows) extended as far as we
could get them, so we’d occupy as much of the window as possible.
Even still, Joe would come down to “observe” the tour, and try and
squeeze by us so they could get up next to the open window.
One day when we had a tour in the area, I was working tower above CP#4. When the tour group entered the MAC building, the Joe’s up at KPA#1 started yelling various things at me. I walked outside and onto the roof so I could try and hear what they were saying. About this time, the tour group left the MAC building and headed across the street to the Freedom House Pagoda for pictures of the area. I started mumbling to myself, narely audible to even me, “Aw you little communist pukes, why don’t you go piss up a rope’, “Go wipe your ass with Father Kim ass-wipe”, and various other assorted goodies. After the tour left our immediate AO by the buildings, and headed up to OP#5 for more pictures, our honor guard stood around relaxing in near their areas waiting for the bus’ return trip, so they could salute as the bus went by again. After the bus finally left and the honor guard dispersed and headed back into CP#4, a temporary relief came up for me so I could go downstairs and see SSG ? (our assistant platoon sergeant). He chewed my butt out good, though he did laugh a bit, saying next time I’m up there with a tour in the area, just keep my mouth shut, as the wind and air conditions were just right, and though it was soft, everything I said had carried down clearly to the tour area.
The layout of the JSA.
Most peoples impression of the JSA is from the pictures they see from either the
top of CP#4 looking down the road in front of the buildings, from the Freedom
House pagoda looking between the buildings towards PanMunGak, or the before,
during or after pictures from OP#5 looking down towards CP#3 and the tree. What
most people don’t realize is that the area around CP#3 is very low.
Where the checkpoint and the roads are, is
actually a built-up area, about 15-20 feet above the rest of the area. What
appears to be area of scrub brush are actually tree tops in the lower areas.
During the summer, when trees and everything else are green and growing, there
is only one manned US/ROK position that can see CP#3, and that’s from OP#5 which
is on top of a hill. At that time, visibility between OP#5 and CP#3 was
beginning to be obstructed by the tree branches, and many times, whoever was
working at CP#3 literally had their lives depending on the guys at OP#5. CP#2 at
the entrance to the JSA can see the top of CP#3, but that’s about it. Even
during the winter months when all the leaves are gone (and the sky is gray),
visibility is not very good from CP#2. Because of this, the KPA built KPA#5
along the access road to CP#3 and placed a barrier gate there. After KPA#5 was
built, the US side built an egress road (just a dirt road), from CP#3 directly
over to CP#2. Shortly after this,
the KPA built KPA#8 with another barrier gate. With the ability to effectively
stop, or at least slow down traffic to and from CP#3, the KPA would occasionally
go over to CP#3 with impunity. Sometimes, if it was only one or two guards, the
KPA would enter into negotiations with the GI at CP#3 (all US checkpoints were
manned by a GI and a KATUSA), and sometimes the KATUSA would help translate.
Most of the time the negotiations were for a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. The
KPA seemed to prize these over practically everything else. I know several guys
who managed to get various “souvenirs” this way, North Korean postcards,
magazines, Kim Il Sung buttons, and one guy actually managed to get a Kim Il
Sung Communist Party Member badge. Most
KPA guards only had a little round pin/badge with a picture of Kim Il Sung on
it. A few of the really hardcore guards who managed to impress their superiors
somehow (through “incidents” with Americans, ratting on others who failed
somehow to maintain their assigned communist standards, etc), would have the Kim
Il Sung picture place on the right side of a red rectangle, signifying that they
were official members of the communist party in good standing with their
superiors. This was a highly prized and highly protected part of their uniform.
For one to trade one to a GI meant he had to steal it from somebody else,
probably somebody he hated, as there were very “severe” punishments to anybody
who lost theirs. Anyway, sometimes the KPA would go to CP#3 in a group of three
or more. This was always a dead give away that some trouble was in the works.
The KPA never attempted any incidents in the JSA unless they had at least a 3-1
majority. Usually when this happened at CP#3, it meant they were going to
attempt to grab our people there so they take them across the Bridge and use
them as propaganda tools. The actual boundary of the JSA was only about halfway
across the bridge. Once you passed that point, you were officially on the North
Korean side of the DMZ and there was nothing we could do except wait the for the
politicians to resolve the issue.
PanMunGak itself.
This is the major focal
of the North Korean side. From the front, it does look kind of impressive, but
if you look at from the side, it’s only like 10 feet wide, hence the reason they
always keep the drapes closed, so it looks more impressive than it really is.
Like most things the North Koreans have visible within sight of South Korea,
it’s purely for show.
Writing my nickname (Ichabod)
in the cement along the side of OP#5 next to the spotting binoculars, when they
had to pour some fresh cement up there one day.
The Imjim Bridge
(Freedom Bridge). Nobody was allowed across the bridge unless they worked north
of the river, or were on an authorized tour. I remember seeing all the bullet
holes in the steel supports of the bridge, left over reminders of the Korean War
and the fighting that must have taken place over the bridge, since it was the
only one still standing. The other bridge next to it was destroyed during the
war, while this one was always wired with explosives with standing orders that
10(?) minutes after hostilities, it got blown, no matter who or what was on it.
American and ROK MP's had to check the ID's of everybody on every vehicle
crossing the bridge. About 150-200 meters away from Freedom Bridge were the
cement supports to another bridge that got blown up during the Korean War. One
of the supports leaned way over to, and I kept wondering when it was going to
fall. The top was probably about 5 feet off the center line, and the top of the
support itself was anywhere from probably 30-50 ft above the water, depending on
the tide, since the river was very tidal and changed levels at least twice a
day. I
remember this one KATUSA who’d work at the bridge occasionally, and I always
laughed when I saw him.
He always looked serious and professional, but his head only occupied the
front half of his helmet liner.
The back half of the helmet liner just stuck out there hanging over open
air.
All of the endless KPA
tours, and there arrival at KPA#1 and then chanting all of their anti-American
slogans and with their signs (though they didn’t have near as many tours as we
did). "Yankee ganster, leave Korea for Koreans", "Yankee go home", and numerous
other variations. I really remember when right after the fall of Angola, a large
and very vocal crowd of Angolans showed up for a tour. They ranted and raved for
a real long time before finally leaving.
I was working tower that day, our tiny little post on top of CP#4, it had
a steel trapdoor so we could climb up from the barracks area, but was about the
size of an outhouse, though it did have an outside door so we could walk around
on the roof.
The "story", passed on
from the Swiss-Swede delegation that before each KPA tour, they would stop and
visit the KPA "museum" (where the armistice was actually signed), and show all
of the "tourists" pictures of the Korean War. American GI's killing North Korean
babies, American GI's eating North Korean babies, and many other re-touched
photos. I don’t know of anybody that can verify this, since it was outside of
the JSA and in the North Korean part of the DMZ, but that’s what we were all
told.
All that remains of the "real" village of Pan Mun Jom. This is the building where the actual Armistice was signed. Notice the little bare area between the smokestacks. This is a KPA artillery position I observed being built that year.
The change out of platoons at the JSA. Though it is now gone, (since shortly after the "tree incident"), just inside the southern boundary of the JSA was KPA#7. Just outside of the southern boundary of the JSA was CP#2. Since we were limited on the number of armed guards we could have within the JSA at any time to 30 enlisted and 5 officers, the changing of platoons required a shuffling of people back and forth. When the relieving platoon arrived, they would park and wait at CP#2. Duty assignments were already drawn up, so we knew who had what shift on what checkpoint, and the first shifters would start getting shuttled out to their checkpoints. The guys working CP#2 had to keep close tabs on the number of people inside so we didn’t go over the limit. Two guys, in, 29 total, three guys out, back down to 26, two more back in, etc. until all of the checkpoints were relieved by the new platoon. The platoon leaving would then load everybody in their deuces and drive out. Then the relieving platoon would drive in. Each platoon had two deuces, one with the canvas cover and one without. Most of the time, the open deuce was occupied by the guys on first shift, and the covered deuce was everybody else, so the KPA couldn’t count how many people we had. The KPA would stand around on both sides of the road and try to get a count of how many people were inside the JSA. If the driver of the deuce was good enough, he'd dog it upon entering the JSA, giving it extra gas (diesel) while shifting into neutral, then punching it when shifting into second. If everything worked right, the KPA trying to look into the back of the deuce was enveloped in a huge cloud of black diesel exhaust.
KPA#7 (like all KPA
guardposts in the southern half of the JSA) was strictly a daytime guardpost.
Once darkness fell, they shut it down and brought everybody back to their side.
It was an elevated guardpost, sitting about 6 feet above the ground.
Ssomewhere at home, I have one of the tiles that used to be on the outside,
having gathered it after it was torn down.
Anyway, sometimes, we'd "sabotage" (or play mind games with) KPA#7. If it was winter, sometimes we'd go over there at night and
pour water on the doors, windows, and/or steps. Sometimes we'd even tie some
fishing line across the top of the steps.
One time when it was done, and I was actually innocent that time, the KPA
couldn't open the doors in the morning. They sent the guard truck back to
PanMunGak, and the truck arrived back shortly.
They then carried a bucket of hot water up the steps, threw it on the
doors and windows, and the glass broke!
All that day they got to sit and shiver while the freezing cold wind
howled around. Another time during
the summer, I went over and smeared Vaseline on the door handle.
The next morning when they went to open up, it was hilarious watching
them try to grab the handle and turn it.
Anybody remember that
one softball game at the field between Kitty Hawk and Liberty Bell? I remember a
guy from Liberty Bell hit the ball way out to left field, where Benningfield
was. By the time Benningfield got to the ball, the batter had got to third base
and was starting to head home. Benningfield flung that ball all the way to home,
beating the runner, and the ball never went higher than 8 ft off the ground!
Practically a line drive all the way from the fence to home plate.
Watching the KPA guards
hit the edge of their hand on the corner of the buildings.
Each day, they had to do it something like 500 times, to build up
calluses on the edge and show that they were good commies for Father Kim.
They did have huge hands because of it, but it didn't buy any
intelligence points from me. Not quite sure what the requirements are now, but
during our time, in order to be a KPA guard at the JSA, they had to be orphans
whose parents died close to the Korean War time-frame. They were then brought up
being told that their parents had been killed by Americans during the war, so
they would foster a good hatred of Americans.
I eventually had one of the KATUSA's in our unit teach me a little
sentence (which I've forgotten how to say now), so when we were close enough to
whisper I'd say "Tomorrow night I'm going to f____ your sister.".
Turtle Parties! They were a great boost for platoon morale! Once a month we'd have one. Burgers and buns were supplied by the mess hall, so we could have a barbecue. If anybody was promoted, they had to buy/supply a case of beer for each grade (i.e., if they got promoted to Sp/4 (E-4), they'd but 4 cases of beer). Plenty of booze was supplied by everybody else. We'd start by drinking out those who were ready to leave and go back Stateside. They'd get their Turtle Cups, Sterling Silver cups with their name, dates of service, and the unit badge on them.
My "Turtle Cup"
The cups were filled with a mixture of everything available. We'd all start singing
"Here's to brother (name) who’s with us tonight.
He's happy, he's jolly, he eats it by golly!
So here's to brother (name) who's with us tonight"
Then he would have to chug it all down non-stop or suffer a penalty drink (by repeating it again) while we all chanted "Drink mother-f____, Drink mother-f____". After the old guys were done, then we drank in the new guys (the "turtles") in a repeat of before. Of course, these were always done on our night off, since afterwards nobody was sober enough to do anything; we were barely able to make it back to our hooch, let alone attempt to go downrange. We also had a song that went
“Drunk last night,
drunk the night
before,
gonna get drunk
tonight
like I’ve never been
drunk before,
‘cause if we are
drunk,
we’re as happy as can
be,
‘cause we are members
of the Joint Security,
we got the K-P-A,
The R-O-K,
PanMumJom is A-okay!”
Especially for a young
kid like I was, those 13 months left an indelible mark on me. I'm proud of being
able to be there, of being part of history, no matter how regrettable it may
have turned out. I'm proud of the way we handled ourselves, proud and
professional (usually), and always up to the task. I'm proud to have known so
many great people, the other people who I got to meet, such as Gen. Singlaub and
Gen. Stillwell, and the awards I received. I'm deeply saddened though by the
loss of Capt. Bonifas and my inability to ever do anything about it of any
consequence. I'm saddened by the thought of not seeing some of the best friends
I ever had again. Many KATUSA's, like Lee W.D. and Huh J. B. I boxed him (Huh
J.B.) one day at QRF. He literally used me as a punching bag. He was built like
that Chinese bad guy you see on a lot of movies, short and massive. I did manage
to in one good punch to his jaw, and he just looked at me and said "Good punch
Pergie.".
One night, a bunch of us
headed downrange on the same bus, even a couple of the KATUSA’s got on the bus,
which they rarely did since they never had much money. We stopped at Camp
Greaves and picked up some guys from 2nd D who were already pretty
drunk. After we crossed the bridge, one of them got real loud and obnoxious,
started saying things about Koreans, and insulting our KATUSA’s. They pretty
much ignored him, which made him more obnoxious, he reached back and knocked the
hat off of one. Every GI from our unit stood instantly, and the closest ones
started beating the crap of the guy. The rest of us told the buddies of the
other guy to stay out of it, and the little Korean gal that collected money from
everybody for the bus fare was yelling and screaming. The bus driver pulled the
bus over, stopped, and opened the door. The drunk, obnoxious guy was literally
thrown out of the bus, the door shut, and the bus driver drove away. Somebody
grabbed the guy’s hat and threw it out the window at him. None of us were
looking for a fight, we weren’t drunk or had even started drinking yet, and he
wasn’t even one of the KATUSA’s that was fairly well liked, but he was part of
our unit. It was a simply a matter of pride, respect, and survival; we were a
small unit and we had to be able to depend on each other, mess with one of us,
and you messed with all of us.
I remember the Romance
Tea Room, Moon Tea Room, lots of times drinking Oscar, and the Romilar and
Codeine mixers (drinking two bottles of Codeine with a Romilar chaser would give
you a good buzz for about 8 hours), and Gin-Ro (Soju) mixed with Orange Fanta.
One day, I stepped outside of the Romance Tea Room in Yongu-gol, and a ROK jeep
came zooming by and ran over my foot.
Didn't hurt, but it pissed me off, and when I complained to a ROK
officer, he beat the hell out of the driver, who then apologized to me.
Finally, what kind of
Korean recollection would be complete without a mention of the women?
But, in order to adequately explain this (mainly for people who weren’t
there), an explanation of cultures is required.
First, in the Korean
culture, especially for the poor farming areas, girls are pretty much useless.
The father has pay a dowry to get them married and they contribute very little
to the family income. At the time,
the average Korean FAMILY only made about $150.00 per YEAR! So, if a family was
on really hard times, the father would sell a daughter to a mama-san.
The mama-san would then take full responsibility for the girl, education,
clothing, feeding, housing, medical, etc. BUT, once mama-san decided that the
girl was old enough, the girl would have to start paying mama-san back for all
the money spent, plus interest, by “catering” to the needs of American
servicemen stationed thousands of miles from home and no chance at all of ever
being lucky enough to get laid by one of the few “round-eye” (American) women in
Korea. Most girls in this situation
in Korea usually started around 16 and continued until they either paid their
debt or were no longer attractive enough to generate any more revenue for
mama-san. A few lucky girls would
manage to get a GI to marry them and pay off the debt to mama-san. Another thing
to keep in mind about Korean culture mentality, at least at the time, was
pureness of the bloodline. Koreans
were very proud of their “pure” bloodline, and could document it easily through
village documents, where births, marriages, deaths, etc. were recorded. However,
once a girl was “associated” with a GI, her name was stricken as if she never
existed. Part of this mentality I
think had to do with how many times the Koreans had been invaded and/or
conquered over the centuries. While
they may have been conquered and occupied many times, with many of their women
being forced into sexual slavery as the spoils of war, most Korean families
could still document “pure” Korean bloodlines.
At the time, you could
procure a “short-time” for $5.00. An “overnight” was $10.00. You could also, if
you wished, procure a “yobo” for anywhere from $100 - $150 a month. Once the
money was paid to the girl, she was yours for the duration of the time period,
supplying your food, drinks, sexual favors, etc. In our unit, since we had every
3rd night off, theoretically (if somebody got a different girl each
off night), we had the opportunity to sleep with around 130 girls during our
13-month tour. Many guys did, others would stay with a small select group of
favorites, and a few would just stay with one or two “yobo’s” for the duration.
The Aug. 18th
through 21st time period:
First, I’m going to
start with something out of context (as to the time-frame of my recollection);
it wasn’t relayed to me until the night of probably the the 20th, but
I think that it’s somewhere in this time period that I was talking with some of
the guys from 1st Plt. who were in the fight.
This is what they related (which differs quite a bit from the official
Army version):
They started out with
everything nice and peaceful. I think it was 9 enlisted men and three officers,
2 American officers, Capt. Bonifas (who only had 5 days left in country), Lt.
Barrett (who’d just become the 1st. Plt. Platoon leader a few weeks
earlier, his South Korean counterpart who’s name I can’t remember, and I think
it was either 3 or 5 Korean Service Corps workers. Then Lt. Bulldog (our name
for him, he was always an instigator) and several other KPA guards arrive in a
guard truck. He asked Capt. Bonifas
what was going on and Capt. Bonifas said that they were trimming the lower
branches of the tree. Lt. Bulldog agreed that that was a good idea. They stood
around observing for around 15 minutes, during which time the KSC workers were
getting visibly nervous. Lt.
Bulldog called one his men over, spoke to him, and the guard left with the guard
truck. Shortly afterwards, two more guard trucks show up and around 25 more KPA
guards pile out. This should have been the first major red flag, as this gave
the KPA more than their customary 3-1 superiority ratio before any “incident”.
(In several pictures of the fight, more than 30 KPA guards can be
observed, and several more are outside of the picture area). Lt. Bulldog removes
his watch, wraps it in a handkerchief, and places it in his pocket. During this
time, the additional KPA guards begin spreading around, except for a small group
that remains by the back of the trucks. Lt. Bulldog looks around (probably to
verify that everybody is in place), yells out something like “Kill them”, and
gives Capt. Bonifas a karate chop to the base of the skull, probably killing him
instantly. They said the next few
minutes were a wild melee. At the start, the KSC workers drop their axes and
saws that they were trimming the branches with, and run.
Several KPA guards pick these up, and the other guards at the back of the
KPA guard trucks reach in and grab axe handles and pikes (they did not bring any
axes of their own). One of the GI’s reaches into the back of the deuce and grabs
an axe handle, swings around, and catches a KPA guard (who was looking the other
way) right alongside of the temple and he collapses like a bag of cement. He
grabs a couple more axe handles and passes them out to other JSA personnel.
Everybody (JSA personnel) starts to gather back together near the back of
the deuce. Nobody knows what happened to Lt. Barrett, he’s nowhere to be seen
(Later, after all the pictures are developed, he’s seen jumping over a retaining
wall and heading down into the depression area between CP#3 and KPA#8).
As people are climbing into the back of the deuce, and getting Capt.
Bonifas’ body loaded up as well, several KPA guards try to grab them and pull
them back out. Several guys beat some of them back with axe handles. Another KPA
guard tries to climb into the deuce as well. One GI picks up a fire
extinguisher, fires it into the KPA guards face, and when it’s empty, he picks
it up over his head and throws it right at the KPA guard, catching him square in
the forehead and snapping his head back. Finally, after every visible friendly
is accounted for, both deuces (the one that carried the KSC workers and their
security force, and the one that stayed with the regular CP#3 guards) leave the
area and regroup. Lt. Barrett is missing, nobody can see him anywhere, and the
guys who are up at OP#5 who first reported and filmed everything, have no idea
where he’s at either. They say that
after our personnel left, the Joe’s drag around 5 KPA bodies across the Bridge
by picking up their heels (which they probably wouldn’t do if they were alive). Several other limp bodies are loaded into the KPA guard
trucks, extent of injuries unknown. They stay on heightened alert for all KPA
activity and for any sign of Lt. Barrett. They notice that the KPA guards at KPA#8
are taking turns going down into the depression between their checkpoint and
CP#3. They stay a few minutes, come back up, and hand the axe to another guard,
who then goes down into the depression. They say that after about an hour or so
of this, they become just to suspicious and a jeep full of JSA personnel heads
out to investigate. They head down into the depression and find what’s left of
Lt. Barrett, though somehow he’s still alive. He’s immediately removed and
medi-vac’d, but dies enroute.
End of unverified story
as relayed to me by several 1st. Plt. members who were there. Taken
in the context of the time, I have no reason to doubt anything they related to
me. We were all pretty depressed, itching for payback, and lies or braggadocio
would have been to easy to expose due to the amount of people involved and the
pictures taken.
I remember when the alert first
sounded. It was our off day, and I was downrange drinking in Sonju-Ri with a
buddy. We asked an MP what was going on, and he said there was a fight at the
JSA. We went to grab a taxi, and drove to Munsan so we could catch the next bus
north. When we got to Freedom Bridge, we asked the MP checking ID's for further
news. He said that a couple people were hurt real bad, maybe dead, up at the JSA.
During the ride up, I kept thinking to myself “Damnit. We were supposed to be
the ones up there. They were supposed to trim the tree last week when we were up
there!”. (I forget what the reason was, but for some reason, the original
scheduled day for the tree trimming was delayed, from August 13th and
instead it turned into a Security Officers Meeting.. Our Platoon was supposed to
be the ones working the JSA on the original date.) An hour later (after the
alert first sounded) we finally arrived at camp and were told by the gate guards
at CP#1 when we arrived to get full field gear on, Capt. Bonifas was dead,
several guys from 1st platoon were injured, and Lt. Barrett was missing.
A few hours later we
were informed that they had recovered the body of Lt. Barret. He was found in
the depression between CP#3 and KPA#8, cut to pieces by KPA guards who took
turns for over an hour, going down into the depression with an axe, only to
return later and hand the axe to another guard who would then disappear into the
depression for awhile. Later that night I was in the NCO club and talking with
one of the guys from 3rd Plt, who were on QRF that day. He was pissed, saying
the whole time during the fight they sat at CP#2, while their Lt. waited for
orders from Capt. Bonifas (who was already dead) to head into the JSA and
provide help. This has always been neglected in every account I've ever read!
Some accounts state that the QRF was a mile away, outside the DMZ, when
the daytime QRF was only about 200 yards from CP#2, well inside the DMZ and
almost within the JSA! General Singlaub's book gives the impression that the QRF
actually made it to the scene of the fighting, which it didn't.
Talking with several other members of 3rd Plt. that night seemed to
verify the story. They all said that they waited around at CP#2 for their Lt. to
receive authorization from Capt. Bonifas to enter.
Having the SGM call me
into LTC Vierra's office after the "tree incident". My dad was in the Air Force,
at Lakenheath Air Base in England. When he first heard what had happened, he
"commandeered" secure communication channels to give LTC Vierra a call and find
out if I was okay. I also remember that almost a year later, going down to visit
Mark Luttrull in DC. While I was there, we went over to the Pentagon and visited
with Col. Vierra for awhile.
The 19th
is fairly fuzzy. I believe we headed north that morning, same as if nothing had
interfered with our normal routine, except of course, no tours were going to be
allowed for awhile. Duty was really weird. I remember how I looked at the guys
from 1st Plt. who we were relieving. Not in shame at not protecting
the officers, but kind of, in a way, proud, that even with all that happened
yesterday, they held it together and we weren’t at war, at least not yet.
Looking at the calendar I kept while I was there (where I’d note memorable
events, etc.), we had a Security Officers meeting and the 379th MAC
meeting that day. Usually, for MAC meetings, we dressed up our Class A’s, but
this was the first time we ever performed our normal honor guard routine for a
MAC Meeting in fatigues. Sitting there in the checkpoints, I remember watching
the Joe’s, wondering to myself “Were you one of the sons-a-bitches, you little
communist puke?”
The 20th
isn’t that much clearer. Originally, it was planned to cut the tree down today,
but for whatever reasons, it’s delayed. We headed south to Advance Camp for
breakfast, then back up north to the Day QRF site. Things were much more subdued
than they usually were at QRF. We all knew we (the US of A), had to do
something. We knew that the tree had to come down, as now it was a standing
symbol of (another) the KPA attempting to humiliate us. We knew plans were in
the works to accomplish that, but we didn’t know what else was in the plans,
though we hoped that we’d get a chance to avenge our unit, our pride, and our
fallen officers. Though he didn’t associate with us enlisted men that much,
Capt. Bonifas did make it point to go around occasionally and visit with the
men. For those of us that did correspondence courses, when the results came
back, he’d always a little note with it before relaying the results to us. A
bunch of small little things, but things that more or less let us know that he
did care about us and our welfare.
There wasn’t as much grab-ass as usual, more attention to detail, especially
weapons maintenance. Some scattered talk and guesses about when the balloon was
going to go up. I don’t remember anybody talking about not being there, just how
much everybody wanted to be right in the front, when and if anything else
started. There was also some scattered talk about a couple of our KATUSA’s,
which one’s we could trust and which ones we couldn’t. Huh J.B and Lee W.D. were
two of the ones we all knew we could trust. There were also a couple others we
all knew we couldn’t, like the one who a month or so earlier at CP#3 revealed
his true leanings. The GI and KATUSA were at CP#3 when it was surrounded by KPA
guards. The GI locked the doors and got on the landline to CP#4 to let them know
and request extraction help. The KATUSA looked at him when he got off the phone,
and said “What’s wrong GI? You scared? Mos-tic you die, me go North Korea.” (mos-tic
is Korean for “pretty soon”, not sure of actual spelling or pronunciation now
though.) I can’t remember who the GI was, but for some reason I think that maybe
it was Exum. I know several of us were wondering how prophetic that statement
was, did he have an inside line on what was going on? A few guys were wrote
letters back home. Most guys, myself included, didn’t have a girlfriend or wife
back home, so we didn’t really care. That night, like the other two previous
nights, sleep was sparse and fitful. Anything woke me up, crickets chirping, an
engine running, a door opening or closing, a gust of wind.
The 21st.
We woke early. We have a Platoon meeting with Lt. Ankley and SFC Huddy, where we
receive our Op Order. The tree was going to come down, and we were going to lead
what was going to be called “Operation Paul Bunyan”, part of “Task Force Vierra”.
The way It was explained, it sounded like it was going to be the most carefully
staged and concentrated display of power since D-Day in WWII. We were going in
with flak jackets, axe handles and our .45’s (which were basically useless at
anything over 10 meters away, as worn out as the barrel bushings and the barrels
were). We would be supported by ROK Special Forces, who had already infiltrated
the JSA and taken up hidden defensive positions to cover us. We were also going
to have a couple truckloads of ROK Marines with us, attired as we were, with the
same weapon limits. We were going to provide security for an Engineer team who
were going to cut the tree down and also pull out some barriers the KPA had
along access roads. Other elements From Camp Liberty Bell would join us inside
the JSA, but as they were primarily a fighting force, and we were primarily
Security Guards, they’d be were they could do the most harm (to the enemy),
setting up defensive positions outside of the JSA. We were told that every unit
in country was “cocked and locked”, all barrels full, with fingers on the
trigger. We would also be supported by Huey’s and Cobra’s, F-111’s, and B-52’s.
If Joe wanted an “incident”, we’d give him one to remember for a long time to
come.
After the briefing, we
had to ready ourselves and our equipment. It was like a daze to me, somehow
knowing that it was real, but seeming unreal. Many of us “augmented” our uniform
with silly things, knives, extra shoestrings, socks with rocks in them, etc. If
there was the slightest chance that we somehow survived, we at least wanted some
kind of a fighting chance to not become prisoners without a fight. I think all
of us vowed to ourselves to save one bullet if it came to that, as we all
thought that we were truly going to war and that was our last morning. We slowly
started gathering near our vehicles, since we still had time to spare, getting
in a few more smokes while we still could, thinking our own private thoughts and
saying our prayers before we had to concentrate exclusively on the mission. The
other forces that were going to accompany us were gathering up and getting
organized as well, but each group kind of kept to themselves and who they knew.
Daylight allows us to see through the fence, and we can see that the guys at
Liberty Bell are getting ready also, they’ll follow us into the Z and most of
the way to the JSA, before they break off to take up their positions. We all
double- and triple-check ourselves and each other, have we forgotten anything,
everything secured and tied up so it won’t fall off, get lost or get in the way?
Around 0600 hours.
The tension level is literally so thick it’s something you can really
touch, taste, and feel. I always read about it, but this is my first experience
with it. I always thought it something invented by a writer with a flair for
words. Now that it’s here, I know better. Once again I’ve learned something new
in the last few days, and matured even more. We form up, practice our actions at
the tree, form up again. Final formation, final orders. Order of movement is
repeated again, expected actions (and reactions) are repeated again. While I
know the animals (birds and others) were making their normal sounds, it’s
drowned out by all of the vehicle noise. There are more vehicles up here than
there’s ever been since I was here.
Around 0640 hours.
We’re loaded and rolling out the gate of CP#1. There’s a weird look about
they guys that stay behind at Advance Camp, kind of like depression. Everybody
in the unit wants to go, nobody wants to be stuck in the rear, cooks, mechanics,
signalmen, clerks all want to be were they can accomplish something that might
help even the score. Two things keep going through my head, the old Indian guy
in “Little Big Man” saying “Today is a good day to die”, and the song “Paint
Your Wagon”, from the movie of the same with Lee Marvin and Clint Eastwood.,
“Where am I going I don’t know, when will I get there, I ain’t certain, all I
know is I am on my way”. I’m thinking “If I have to die today, I couldn’t be
with a better bunch of people. I’m proud to be with them, and I hope I make them
proud as well.”. As the convoy rolled out, I was looking all around, up north to
see if there was any activity yet, behind us, all I could see was a line of
jeeps, deuces, and gamma goats as far as I could see. As we near the Day QRF
site, most of the vehicles from 2nd Div begin to pull over and get in
their defensive positions, setting up TOW’s, machineguns, and everything else.
0700 hours. We roll into
the JSA. The KPA can officially see us. Normally, they’d just be getting ready
to open up KPA#7 and 8, but today was planned to minimize contact and we arrive
about 45 minutes earlier than usual, so those checkpoints aren’t manned yet. The
KPA guards across the Bridge don’t see us until we are almost to the tree. PFC
Exum pulls up next to CP#3 and we jump out of the back of the deuce, When we are
all out, he backs it up onto the bridge, preventing any vehicles from crossing,
The rest of the vehicles are right behind us, everybody un-assing the trucks
before they even stop. The dumptruck with the engineers pulls up next to the
tree, so they can stand on it instead of having to use a ladder. The ROK’s with
us, who are “supposed to” be limited as we are, with just .45’s and axe handles,
begin throwing sandbags out of their deuces, Under the sandbags they have
M-16’s, M-60’s, and a few M-79’s. Several f them head over to Exum’s deuce and
stand around watching the KPA guards across the bridge. I’m on the detachment
that’s facing north, and I can see the 4 guards over there frantically running
about and trying to get a hold of a superior on the phone. I look over at KP#3,
a North Korean checkpoint just outside of the JSA and situated up on a hill, and
I can see the guards up there run outside with a machinegun and set it up
covering us. About two minutes later, a bunch of the KPA guard trucks and
several buses pull up across the bridge from us. It seems like they sit there
forever, several minutes at least. A few of the ROK marines with us unbutton
their shirts, showing that they have claymore mines strapped to their chests and
they have the clacker (firing mechanism) in their hands. They start yelling and
waving at the KPA to come on over. One of the ROK’s is laying on his side, on
the ground, supporting his head his his hand, looking all casual and care free.
Once in a while he lifts his head a bit and hits the rear tire of Exum’s deuce
with the back of his fist, shaking the entire truck bed. Anybody who’s ever been
on a deuce knows that’s not easy.
Somebody tells me LTC
Vierra just gave an order on the radio and I look back. Our supporting
helicopters rise up on line above the horizon, giving the North Koreans a
perfect view of their amassed firepower. The line of choppers seems to stretch
for over a mile. Upon seeing this, the North Koreans unload their vehicles and
scatter along their side of the dike that is along the river. They set up in
two-man groups, signifying that most of them are machinegun positions.
There I am, close to two
million people stretched all along the DMZ and who knows how many tens of
thousands within probably three miles of where we are at, nukes in the air
(aboard B-52’s), who knows how much artillery from both sides concentrated on
our location, crazy guys with mines on their chest yelling at the North Koreans
to come on over, KPA less than 100 meters away with machineguns and AK-47’s
trained on us, and me and my buddies are standing around with axe handles and
.45’s. I’m looking north at all of the various North Korean bunkers I know
about, the ones pointed out to me, and the ones I’ve watched being built during
the last year, expecting at any moment I’ll see a puff of smoke and flame, the
signal that their artillery has fired. It’s almost laughable, probably would be
in a movie, but all I’m thinking now is that I hope I can take a couple (KPA)
with me. Kind of reminds me of that the poster with an eagle and the mouse
giving him the finger, “The Last Great Act of Defiance.”
I forget exactly when
the first branch goes down, before or after the choppers raise up, but I vividly
remember the crash it made as it fell on the dump truck, and the cheers we all
made. Raising our axe handles and yelling. The engineers begin working on the
next branch, it’s a massive tree. Many of the ROK’s, seeing that the KPA aren’t
going to respond, start to head over to KPA#5 and 8 and break in. They ransack
the places, breaking everything they can, smashing windows, doors, the works. I
can see the barriers laying on the ground, yanked out by the engineers.
I’m not sure how long
all this takes, time seems distorted. Some things appear to be in slow motion,
and other things seem to happen faster than my eyes and brain can register them.
At any rate, I’m now beginning to relax and the adrenaline rush is wearing off.
If Joe was going to do anything, it would have happened by now.
The last branch comes
down and the engineers start to cut some of the branches into smaller, more
manageable chunks so they can be loaded up and taken away as souvenirs. Most of
the tree I think stays behind, it’s just to damn big and heavy to haul away at
that time. What’s left of the tree is still pretty massive in it’s own right.
Depending on which way you look at it, from the road it looks like the trunk is
still about 10 feet high. If you look at it from OP#5, where you can see where
it starts, it’s more around 15 feet high. Where the branches were cut, each of
the three branches are close to two feet across. Near the base of the tree, the
diameter is over three feet.
As I remember, the
engineers are the first to leave. I see movement down by the riverbed, and I see
a bunch of ROK special forces guys coming up out of the depressions. It seems
like several hundred of them. They were the ones that infiltrated the night
before, and I had no idea they were down there. They load up on the trucks with
the ROK marines and leave. Finally, our group gets to load up and leave. I
remember looking back at what’s left of the tree and thinking, “It’s not much,
but it got their attention.”. Later, I try and rationalize with myself about the
oriental, or at least Korean, culture. Saving face is very important; being
bigger is better, etc., and that day they not only lost face, we proved to them
that we were much bigger than they were, though for us it was still a letdown.
I think everybody in the JSA that participated in Operation Paul Bunyan received one of these. I have no idea if other units and their members did.
It didn’t take long
after this before the JSA was officially separated into North and South
sections. In the area where the main buildings were at, a small concrete slab
was laid so everybody would know where the dividing line was. After this, the
only time someone could “freely” go onto the other side was during a tour of the
MAC meeting room. Before entry of the tourists, a guard will go in and close all
of the windows on the northern side so nobody can reach in. He’ll then go to the
back door (North Korean entrance) and lock it from the inside. He stands at
parade rest, but behind him he has his hands on the door, in case the North
Koreans try to open the door with a key.
Things became much more mundane around the JSA after it became a
your-side and our-side place. Things were much more active and interesting,
though also much more prone to danger, when the entire area was a neutral zone
with “free” movement.
Several of the guys in
our unit went to the tailor shop on post after it opened up again, and had
special commemorative flags made.
Looking at it now, after all these years, I see that we should have had a
slightly different layout, or design, to it.
These aren’t to signify anything to do with the deaths of Capt. Bonifas
and Lt. Barrett, but more towards Operation Paul Bunyan.
We should have had smaller type so we could have fit Operation Paul
Bunyan in there.
Oh well, such are the vagaries of an impatient youth.
My flag.
One of the last major
events I remember from the JSA was when the South Korean Navy sank a North
Korean “fishing” boat in South Korean waters. The “fishing” boat was recovered
from the bottom of the ocean and brought up to the JSA as an example to the KPA
of their constant and blatant disregard of South Korea’s sovereignty.
The “crew” of the vessel were captured and brought up north to be
repatriated as well.
First, the vessel and all of it’s standard “fishing gear” were brought in
and placed on display. AK-47’s, black military infiltration clothing, South
Korean maps, scuba gear, the radar and communications systems on board, the boat
was equipped with twin Detroit diesel engines for high speed, etc.
When asked if the KPA and Chinese representatives would like to go
outside and observe the latest violation of the Armistice agreement, the reply
was “Why? There’s nothing to see out there except the road and buildings.”
Then the “fishing crew” was brought in, and upon being led near the
concrete dividing slab and released, they started stripping off everything they
had, all the way down to their boxer shorts. Watches, rings, pants, shirts,
jackets were all thrown at their South Korean “benefactors” as they stormed
across to the North Korean side. I was working what we called the “Pagoda”, next
to the South Korean Red Cross building and had a good view of the events.
The pagoda at the South Korean Freedom House inside the JSA.
Many of the pictures on this page are also available so they print as an 8"x10", but the file size is around 5MB each. If you would like a copy, let me know which one(s) and email me at wbfergus@yahoo.com.