Douglas Gamage is a RI Chapter 2 Korean War
Veteran and he shared precious pictures taken from his service in Korea in the
Spring of 1953.
Please go to the following link to see additional pictures.
http://www.rikorean.org/xe/index.php?mid=news&document_srl=8657
A Non War Story
Douglas C Gamage
In
the spring of 1953, the Korean war was winding down. There were still
sporadic battles along the 38th parallel and some were violent. Peace
talks had been going on at Panmunjom for months and everyday rumors
spread that the fighting would be over tomorrow.
I
was a squad leader, a corporal in Item company, 17th regiment, 7th
Infantry division and we were occupying a hill called Arsenal. It was
just in front of Pork Chop and a few hundred yards to the right of Old
Baldy. It was strategic because it was in the first line of defense of
the MLR and we often had incoming harassing fire from nearby enemy
positions. We ran frequent patrols which rarely engaged the enemy
probably because they ignored us, thinking the war would be over soon
and nobody wanted to be the last casualty.
One
morning I was walking through the trench when my company commander, a
lieutenant, called me over to the command bunker. As I approached him I
saw three Chinese soldiers sitting on the ground with their hands bound
behind their backs. The lieutenant told me I was to stand guard over
them and they had been captured during a skirmish the night before. An
armored personnel carrier was on the way with four new fresh troops,
ammunition, and C-rations. It would go back with the three prisoners and
several wounded. As I sat down on an ammo box to wait for the APC, I
looked at them sitting about six feet apart. The one on the right had an
arrogant sneer on his face that I would have liked to wipe off with the
back of my hand. The one on the left was the oldest. I figured he might
be an officer. He just stoically stared at the ground. But the one in
the middle was a young kid, perhaps still in his teens and he was
shivering despite the warm rising sun.
I knew
that the Chinese indoctrinated their troops with lies about Americans.
He probably had been told that if he was captured he would be tortured
and then killed. You could see the fear in his eyes as the arrogant one
said something to him in Chinese. I wish I had known how to say "shut
up" in Chinese but I could only point my rifle at him and put my hand up
to my mouth. I wanted to somehow show the young Chinese soldiers that
we were not the monsters that his superiors made us out to be.
The
APC arrived and six new replacements emerged along with several boxes
of ammo and c-rations. The dead and wounded were loaded for the trip
back down and I herded my three captives aboard. The ride down was
eventful since the roof was already covered by enemy fire and we could
hear the explosions of mortar and artillery, although none scored a
direct hit. Small arms fire did hit us but without effect, the pinging
of the rounds on the armored plate sounding like someone hammering on
the vehicle.
We arrived at a command post
which was protected from enemy fire behind the hill. There were several
squad tents, a latrine, and a triage tent with a large red cross on the
roof surrounded by sandbags and a helicopter landing pad. Many years
later when I watched the TV show "M.A.S.H" I was reminded of that place.
Waiting for the MP's to come and take over
the prisoners, I couldn't help feeling sorry for the young Chinese
soldier, so I untied his hands (he probably thought I was preparing to
execute him) lit a cigarette and offered it to him. I also offered him a
drink from my canteen. The other prisoner barked at him in Chinese, and
I took it to mean and he was telling the younger soldier not to accept
what I offered. So I walked over to him, pressed my rifle to his
forehead and said, "Shut up." He got the message and glowered at me and I
knew he would kill me if he could.
The young
soldier drank the water gratefully and accepted the cigarette. He bowed
his head to me several times in thanks. Then the MPs arrived and took
them into custody. The young soldier looked at me with fear in his eyes
and I tried to convey that he would be all right. Then they took him
away.
Years later I returned to Korea on a
revisit. I looked at the faces of old men wondering if one of them could
be that young soldier somehow making his way to South Korea after the
war. I hope he did.
Douglas C Gamage
