Christmas in Korea during the war years

My company had just come off of the lines. We had lost several men. I stopped at Wally Polkosnik’s C Company stores tent at A Echelon. It was Christmas Eve, quite cold. Wally had the diesel fuel powered heater cranked up so it was warm inside, but there was nobody around.

I waited, getting warm, hoping to have a holiday drink with someone or other. A very drunken young man came in. He handed me a can of the near beer that they sold at the US combat engineer’s detachment a little ways down the MSR. I took it gratefully, chatted with him, although I knew he would not remember even meeting me. He was quickly gone, staggering and swaying and pushing forth boldly into the dark.

I finished the drink and then a sergeant I had known for a long time came in. I had not seen him for perhaps a year, and that was back in Canada.

He looked very concerned. There were three other sergeants with him, tough guys; all platoon sergeants.

He explained that they badly needed a three-quarter ton truck for a mission. They were filled with booze. If I could give them a requisition it would save the day. He had some forms with him and I filled them out and signed them. I think that I signed them “Captain,” and he appreciated the thoughtfulness.

They were filled with trepidation when they got into the truck. They were planning to make an illegal run into Seoul and have a real blow out. They would have to pass through military police checkpoints along the way and if caught, maybe in a few days they would all be privates.

“We’ll never forget this!” the sergeant who had been an erstwhile friend called to me. I was sure that he would, if all went well.

He did not know that I had no connection with A Echelon, or with Wally’s stores tent. He had made off with one of the two C Company duty vehicles.

I picked up my rifle and was about to start trudging north on the MSR. In came somebody I did know. He was a company sergeant major.

I remember him once in Canada yelling at a sloppy soldier who had smeared one of his putties while polishing his boots.

“Do you wash your feet with your socks on, you jagabony?” he demanded. “I suppose that you do!”

I remember him once reading out an entire company of hung-over soldiers. There had been a punch up in a nearby town. Some of our friends were in the civilian jail.

“Do you know what our geniuses did?” he demanded. “They crashed a policeman’s ball. They tried to pick up one of the copper’s girlfriends and when they were told to get out they started punching! We don’t need idiots in this Company who go into a copper’s lair that’s packed with bulls and try to pick up one of their girlfriends! If they ever get out of jail and come back I will have them drummed out of the Company!”

He gave me a bottle of beer, good beer. He drawled that he could not quite remember how he knew me but was sure it had all been good. He wished me Merry Christmas several times, with sincerity. In truth I think that he was lost.

Instead of hiking up the freezing MSR I slept on the floor beside the heater. In the morning, Wally Polkosnik and the company driver, Roy Blackman, were there.

Outside, in the truck bed, under a square of canvas was 19-year old Edward Power.

I learned later that he had been on a patrol off of the Hook position. Their mission was to put up a tree near the enemy slopes. The tree was decorated with safe conduct passes.

“East of Panmunjom” – A Korean War painting by renowned Canadian artist Edward (Ted) Fenwick Zuber, who served in Korea with The Royal Canadian Regiment. The painting depicts a patrol in the same vicinity where Private Eddy Power was killed on Christmas Eve. The light at left is the Panmunjom searchlight which shone perpendicular into the sky to signify peace talks were underway. Ted’s Royal Canadians relieved Eddy Power’s Princess Patricia’s on the Hook positions a few days after Eddy was killed in action. Soon after that Ted himself was wounded on the Hook. He left the Canadian Army to become a fulltime artist. In 1991 he was commissioned as a captain and served in the Gulf War as Canada’s official war artist. His agreement with the Department of National Defence was to produce 10 sketches. He completed 120 and six field paintings. On returning to Canada he was commissioned to do four paintings depicting the roles of Canada’s Navy, Army, Air Force, and Number 1 Hospital. Several of Ted's Korean War paintings are on display in the Canadian War Museum in Ottawa. Ted’s work, including the grand series of Korean War paintings can be seen on his studio website: ted@zuberfineart.com

Eddy had been hit in the face by shrapnel on his way back. In the darkness the others had bypassed him and left him behind.

A rescue team had rushed out right away when they found he was missing. Eddy by then had fallen and bled to death.

Left, Eddy Power, with injured hand, ‘Blanket’ Jones and ‘Senator’ Paul Weiswasser.

There were more than 10 brothers and sisters in Eddy’s family then. The last of them is now in a nursing home.

Eddy is still in Korea. He long ago turned to the soil that is the United Nations Memorial Cemetery in Busan.

They did not embalm our Fallen comrades. They were brought from the front in whatever shape they were found in.

They were wrapped in tent canvas and lowered into the ground. A small bronze bottle was placed 18 inches beneath the white wooden Cross that bore their name and service number. The bottle contains a copy of their burial records.

The Crosses were removed many years ago. They were replaced by bronze grave marker plaques that were mounted on cement plinths. Now the plinths have been replaced by machined granite.

There are roses planted between the grave markers. The lawns are well maintained. The cemetery grounds are attractive with many flowers, trees, shrubs.

There is a bronze Monument to Canadian Fallen near where Eddy rests. On its base are embossed the names of 518 Canadians. There are 516 names on Canada’s Korean War Roll of Honour.

Two of the names on the base of the Monument are for one young soldier who had served in the name of his older brother. He had been too young himself for overseas service.

Eddy Power is listed under his proper name, and also as “Joe Dowey.” That is the name he used when he was on leave or out carousing – the idea being to not be traceable if anything untoward happened.

Those wishing to pay respects to Eddy Power will see him listed on the Monument along with his many comrades. They will also be able to visit his grave, not many steps away.

Anyone looking for Joe Dowey will find his name on the Monument, but will wander futilely if they try to find his resting place. Eddy would laugh about that.

The winds blow in the hills where Eddy was killed that Christmas Eve so long ago.

Most of those who had been with him on that fateful patrol have since passed on.

The winds blow and bite no less sharply. They are no less weakening of body’s heat and strength than they were then. But the enemy is gone from the land.

One hopes the four sergeants who took one of the C Company trucks and drove to Seoul had an adventure to remember.

If they were caught, nobody ever tracked down the alleged captain who had signed their vehicle and travel authorization.

They all left something behind. They left behind a free and vibrant Korea. They left behind, too, their Fallen Comrades. Yet they took them in spirit with them, though, wherever they traveled after the guns had gone silent.

Doncha know boy, it is cold in those hills where Eddy fell on Christmas Eve, just before midnight? It is cold and one hopes there is light in the sifting small snowflakes; just a glimmer, a flicker, like the good natured mischief that had lit Eddy’s eyes so often.

Above article provided courtesy of the Korean War Veteran, koreavetnews@aol.com