From My Service in Korea, I Learned – By Samuel Perry
I was working as a teacher in a small rural school in southcentral Kentucky when I received my invitation to serve in the American armed forces. Although I could have obtained a deferment from the draft board because of my job, I did not, preferring to serve my country instead as a citizen soldier. I reported for duty in September 1962 and received Basic Combat Training at Fort Knox, Kentucky followed by eight more weeks at the Military Police School in Fort Gordon, Georgia. Following graduation, I received orders for Korea.
On February 5, 1963, I boarded the troop transport, Gen. Hugh J. Gaffey, and embarked for Inchon, Korea with stops enroute at Pearl Harbor, Yokohama, and Taiwan. On February 26, 1963, after 21 days at sea, the ship entered Inchon harbor in the middle of a ferocious and blinding blizzard and was struck midship by a South Korean freighter. Chaos ensued as the hundreds of troops on board were hastily evacuated onto landing craft. The freezing temperature, blowing snow, and confusion during the landing made my arrival in country an event that seared into my memory and is something I have never forgotten. I shiver just thinking about it. At the Army Support Command (ASCOM), we were fed and given as much hot coffee as we wanted and bedded down for the night. The next day, we were dispersed by rail to our temporary duty stations. Mine was at Camp Humphreys, a dirty little Army post located outside the town of Pyeongtaek. There, I spent three days before being trucked in the back of a deuce-and-a-half to Camp Huston, a Nike-Hercules air defense missile site some four miles west of the town of Yeoju on the Han River. Camp Huston was under construction and was the HQ of Delta Battery, 4th Missile Battalion, 44th Artillery. Military Policemen provided security.
Although my MOS was 951 and I had been trained as a Military Policeman, my duty as such ended when the 1st Sergeant learned that I was a college graduate and knew my way around a typewriter. Soon, I found myself sitting at a desk in a warm Quonset hut, out of the fierce Manchurian wind, pecking out numbers on the Morning Report and typing up letters from the Battery Commander. a physical fitness fanatic named Capt. Cole B. Whaley. However, my desk job did not exempt me from those arduous runs and endless side-straddle-hops he ordered for all personnel.
Capt. Whaley rotated back to the States and was replaced by Capt. Leo P. Hobbs, a West Point graduate and Army Ranger. Although now deceased after a long career in the Army, Capt. Hobbs, became, and remains, one of my heroes and I will be forever grateful to him for serving as a role model at a time when I most needed one.
In June, Captain Hobbs asked me if I would like to get out of the office for a few hours each day and teach school again. The new commander of Eighth Army was revisiting an old Army program to improve relations between the Army and local communities and needed soldiers of exemplary standing to serve as boots on the ground. I jumped at the chance and following a crash course in the Korean language, soon found myself on the faculty of Yeoju Primary School. Another soldier was being sent to a similar school in I’chon, two miles east of Camp Huston. His name was Sgt. Dale Perkins, who was later KIA in Vietnam.
My mentor, and South Korean counterpart at Yeoju Primary School, was Mr. Park Kyong Sik, and I learned much from him about Korean culture, student behavior, and the rigid code of conduct that governed the children. I must have done a good job in the classroom because as the new school term began again in September, I was asked to move up to the high school level. I then started teaching at Yeoju Girl’s Home Economical High School, under the supervision of Principal Yun Suk Je. I taught there until I rotated back to the States in February 1964, serving in that capacity while also continuing to work as Battery Clerk.
My work in the Korean school system required not only classroom instruction, but participation in teacher meetings. There, I got to know my fellow teachers personally and learn of the challenges they faced in restoring the educational framework that had been demolished by the war. As a Seonsaeng Nim (Honored Teacher), I also got invited to social functions and celebrations. Through these, I learned to appreciate the rich Korean heritage, the spicy cuisine, and especially the music, which to most Westerners probably sounded like noise. Not me, though. I loved it. Most enjoyable of all my activities, however, were the visits to the homes of my students.
My active duty in the Army ended in September 1964 and I returned to civilian life as a Reservist until 1968. However, I continued to regard myself as a soldier, becoming a charter member of an American Legion post in Arizona and a charter member of a VFW Post in Kentucky when Korea veterans became eligible for the Korea Defense Service Medal. At the latter, I served in many offices at the Post, District, and Department levels.
Six decades have passed since I returned home from Korea. My career as an educator was a rewarding one and I officially retired from the teaching profession after 31 years. Thousands of young faces have graced my classrooms, and I have spent countless hours counseling and seeking to serve as a positive role model, much as Capt. Hobbs did for me. But I have never forgotten the seven months I taught in the South Korean school system. Shortly after I returned home, Peace Corps volunteers arrived at the schools. They were followed, in turn, by American teachers of English who labor there to this day.
The Republic of Korea today bears no resemblance to the fledgling nation I saw when I served there. When I see photos of Seoul or any of the countryside there, I have to force myself to accept that they are real. So much has changed. Camp Humphreys has morphed into something hard to recognize. Camp Huston is long gone. I suspect that the students in the schools are also different. They are products of modernity. It was their grandparents, the ones I taught, the ones who had witnessed the horrors of the North Korean invasion, the ones who had to endure classrooms heated by charcoal burners on frigid winter days, the ones who walked four miles along rice paddy dikes to get to school, the ones who competed for allotted spaces on the school roster, and the ones who listened intently to tall Americans in green uniforms who sought to show them that soldiering was not always about waging war.
I fell in love with the Korean people while I was there and that love is as strong now as it ever was. Arirang still brings tears when I hear it and kimchi is still one of my favorite foods. When I looked out from the door of my barrack on that day in 1963 and saw a bleak land of bare mountains stripped of vegetation by the ravages of war and villages of mud huts, thatched roofs, and dirt roads, I thought I had stepped back into the 15th century. But that landscape is no more. The incredibly strong, dedicated, and patriotic men, women, and children who lived there at that time have worked hard over the past sixty years to rebuild their nation and have bequeathed to future generations a homeland of which anyone could be proud. I am just so happy and thankful to have played a small part in the transformation.
What did you learn from serving in Korea? Let us know –
Sharing your experiences from serving in Korea can be a powerful way to connect with others who have had similar experiences. By sharing your story, you may be able to help others who are currently serving in Korea or who are preparing to do so. You can share insights about the culture, the people, and the challenges you faced while serving. Your story can also help to shed light on the sacrifices that service members and their families make in order to protect our freedoms. So, if you have a story to share, we encourage you to take the time to put it down in writing and send it to KDVA.MyServiceInKorea@gmail.com along with any photos that help to tell your story.
Your contribution may be just what someone needs to hear in order to feel connected and supported.
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