Personal Stories

Personal Stories from Korean War Veterans

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Memories of the Korean War: From Farm Boy to Soldier
by Retired Col. Paul E. Idol

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     As we approached central South Korea, we could see the physical damage caused by the war - remains of railroad engines and cars along the tracks, deserted villages and large bridges hanging in the rivers, destroyed by one side or the other. We were beginning to realize that our destiny was directly ahead of us in Kumhwa Valley.

     Korea is a country of strange names. We learned them fast, we pronounced them wrong, but they will be associated with the Korean War forever in our minds and in the official history books. Seoul, Inchon, Panmunjom, Uijonbu, Munsan-ni, Osan, Suwon, Kaesong, Chosin, Wonsan. Back then, it was hard to believe these were places where people lived, their hometowns, just like the cities and towns in Kansas.

     South Korea is about the size of Kansas in square miles. However, the capitol city of Seoul has four to five times the population of the entire state. The 38th parallel, which separates North and South Korea, also runs through the south central part of Kansas. Seasons are about the same, but Korea was subject to monsoons and the winters were plagued with the cold north winds and snow from Manchuria.

     We had been hearing and reading about the Korean War for several years. We had trained for six months to prepare for it and now we were quickly becoming part of it. Would it be what we expected? Would we be assigned to combat units? If so, could we perform our assignments under combat conditions? Only time would answer these questions.

     At the railhead, we were assigned our units. I was assigned to the 14th Infantry "Golden Dragons," 25th Division and they just happened to be on the front line. Kumhwa Valley was a mountainous area on the central front. We were transported to the Regimental Headquarters (Rear) during the night by a truck driver who wanted to show us how he could drive on mountainous roads, with only his running lights. It scared us to death.

     It didn't take long for them to assign me to Baker Company as a medic. This was my home and these men were my family for the next six months, or until the war ended on July 27, 1953. We were in the field all this time during the winter, spring and summer campaigns. There were no permanent wood or brick buildings in the country, except those in the larger cities. The infantry had no opportunity to occupy fixed housing in the rural or mountainous areas. It was always bunkers, pup tents or squad tents. It was a rough life, but we were soldiers and we were young.

     We fought for and defended places like The Punch Bowl, The Iron Triangle, Porkchop Hill, Old Baldy, Whitehorse Mountain, The Hoo and, near the end of the war, The Nevada Complex. Nevada was made up of hills called Carson, Reno Vegas and Elko.

     Peace negotiations had been going on between the communists forces and the U.N. since 1951, but there always seemed to be items on proposed treaties that they could not agree on. Finally, on July 27, 1953, a treaty was signed and the shooting came to a halt. I was still a medic with Baker Company on that summer night when flares were fired into the sky to signal the cease-fire. Everyone was relieved because of the cease-fire, but many were apprehensive about how long it would last.

     The cease-fire did work and we continued to train and maintain defensive positions along the 38th Parallel. We also assisted in the repatriation of prisoners of war through Peace Village at Panmunjom. We also had time to improve our own conditions and our lives gradually changed for the better. More free time, better food, better quarters (still tents), showers and clean clothes and time to see the countryside.

     In a few months, I had accumulated enough points to rotate home. I was thrilled about it, although I did have my concerns regarding the trip. It was so far back to Kansas and it would take a long time to get there. Something could still happen to prevent me from ever getting back.

     I did make it home, even though I had to ride a WWII Victory ship back across the Pacific. It was a larger and better troop ship than the old Liberty ship that took me to Korea, but it was still one of the terrible experiences of my life. We sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge and the Oakland Bay Bridge before docking in Oakland. We were not greeted by a band, or a large crowd, but we didn't really care, we were home and that was enough.

     I left some friends in Korea forever, killed-in-action, missing-in-action, bodies never recovered. This fact would creep back into my life 45 years later. But that is another story.

     "The Forgotten War" will never be forgotten by those who served there, nor by the 54,000 families whose loved ones did not return. Korea was my war and I would do it again if I were young, and circumstances affirmed the need to do so. I would only ask one favor of the U.S. Army - fly me across the Pacific.