On or around military-related holidays, I like to write something military-themed. Because Memorial Day is universally accepted as a military-related holiday, I’ll have to skip over the fact-checking of Wild Bill Suhayda’s blather in a recent edition of The Voice to present my military-themed piece. I’m not worried, because there will be, I’m sure, twice as much of the aforementioned blather to fact-check down the proverbial road.
When I was in the U.S, Army and stationed at 8th Army Headquarters in Seoul, Korea, we were always on alert for a surprise attack from those nasty North Koreans. Up at the DMZ, there were occasional skirmishes with the North, but news of the encounters didn’t make it back to the States because the Vietnam War dominated the headlines.
In Seoul, we were just 35 miles south of the DMZ, so once in a while, day or night, we’d have phony alerts to keep us on our toes and out of the clutches of the local business girls. When the alarm was sounded, we immediately had to report to our duty stations to pack up and leave. That’s when the alert was canceled and we’d get back to our office routine or to the clubs to complete work on tomorrow’s hangover. Someone always found out when an alert was scheduled, so we were never surprised, anyway.
Little Rocket Man Kim Jong Un’s grandfather, Kim Il Sung, was president of the North at the time, and one late Spring day, he said he’d march into Seoul on his birthday. This prompted a real phony alert. We reported, packed files, typewriters and miscellaneous whatever into field crates, loaded them on deuce-an-a-half trucks, got our weapons and loaded our bodies on to buses heading about 50 miles south to an Army base in Chung-Ju.
We set up our G-1 tents on a grassy field conveniently adjacent to the officer’s club. While I was unpacking my typewriter, my sergeant approached and said I was to report to the headquarters tent and see Colonel Powell who needed someone to draw some stuff. My sergeant was often grumbling because I’d become the resident G-1 artist and was always getting pulled away to make some fliers, charts, birthday cards, and more.
Approaching the headquarters tent I could see MPs posted in front so I went around the back, separated the canvas flaps and stepped in. A platform served as a small stage with a podium off to one side and movie screen behind it. A couple dozen chairs faced the platform. Near the front entrance stood a half-dozen brass having a discussion. A spit and polished major saw me slip in. “What are you doing here?” he asked. I told him I was to see Col. Powell about a special project. The colonel heard his name and walked over. I was to create overhead slides based on notes he’d give me each morning prior to daily 0800 presentations he’d make to division commanders on how their units were to progress in case of war. He turned to a pile of various metal containers, wires, and electronic-looking things piled next to the platform.
“Can you operate that?”
I’d never seen it before in my life. “Sure thing, sir.” I wasn’t going to blow a gravy job.
I figured out how everything worked and was ready next morning at 0700. I drew up the overheads with grease pencils from notes I’d received, put them in order, and during the 0800 presentation, lay each on the overhead projector when the colonel gave me the signal.
It all went off without a hitch until the final day. Halfway through the colonel’s presentation, Lt. General Ridgway, the supreme grand poobah over all 39,000-plus men, the entire American force in South Korea, walked in. The general took off his cap and sat in an empty seat in back. The colonel became a quivering wreck, but managed to get through his presentation and breathe a sigh of relief.
“Colonel Powell,” called the general, “where’s the 23rd engineers?”
“In the 2nd Infantry Division,” answered the colonel.
“I’m aware of that, colonel, but I don’t see it on your map.”
The colonel spun around and ran his pointer over the map. I frantically looked through my notes…no 23rd. The colonel looked at me and I shrugged. He went back to scanning his map.
“I can’t seem to find it, sir.”
“Am I to understand that you’ve lost an entire regiment?” asked the general.
“No, sir. It was here yesterday.”
With that, the general put on his cap and walked out. And, as far as I know, to this day the 23rd infantry has never been found.