06/22/2026
During my time serving with the 2nd Infantry Division in Korea on the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), I was exposed to many traumatic experiences, such as when two North Korean guards beat a young girl to the point of unconsciousness with police batons, and her lifeless body was then dragged away by her hair. I saw North Korean farmers being shot in the rice fields for not working hard enough, and many times when North Koreans tried to escape to South Korea, they were caught by North Korean Guards, beaten, and dragged away.
But I would have to say the most traumatic experience on the DMZ in Korea was during a deployment between May 18th, 1987, and July 28th, 1987. I was with E. Co, 5/20 Inf. 2nd Inf. Div. assigned as a gunner on an M113 with a TOW missile system. We were on night patrol on the DMZ, coming down a ridge into a valley of rice paddies. While crossing the rice paddies in the M113 armored personnel carrier, we received word over the radio to halt in place immediately. We were informed that we were in the middle of a North Korean minefield and to stand by and await further orders.
About an hour had gone by with no word from command. I popped the top hatch to get a better look at my situation, and to my shock, I saw what seemed to be hundreds of North Koreans heading toward me through the rice paddies. To the northwest were North Korean artillery pieces and machine gun nests along the ridge line. To the northeast along the ridge were mortarmen and machine guns. Directly to my north, the North Koreans decided to walk their men through the minefield to capture us, no matter the cost.
Between the North Korean threat, the heat, the claustrophobia, the fumes from the burning fuel, the lack of communication, and the realization that we will likely die a painful and horrifying death if captured, the weight was heavy on each of us. We thought of loved ones and things we wish we had said. The unsaid I love you. Regrets for past mistakes. The smell of fresh-cut grass. Pizza. And trying to accept there will be no tomorrows
I immediately got on the radio requesting orders; it was a dire situation, but the radio batteries were dead. We would receive no help; we were on our own. I looked out the hatch again to see the North Koreans advance, and they were getting within 300 yards, rifle distance. I got back in the M113 and called the driver and loader together. I told them the radio is out, and we can’t receive orders. The North Koreans are feet away. We can fight them, but we will surely be killed. We can surrender to the North Koreans, but they will only torture and kill us. Or we can hit the gas and get the hell out of here.
I asked them their opinion even though they were only privates. I figured if we are going to die, screw the rank. The driver didn’t even hesitate and started crawling back to the driver's position. The loader said, “Hell yeah, let's do this. We each took our positions, and once settled in, the driver revved the engine like a race car, let out a rebel yell, and hit the gas.
The North Koreans stood in shock at first, wondering what the hell was going on, but when we started splashing across the rice paddy like a boat skipping across a lake, the North Koreans started running around like lost ants, wondering what to do. Should they shoot? Should they chase after us? They didn’t know what to do. Before the North Koreans could come up with a plan, we made it out of the rice paddy minefield and safely back to the South Korean sector of the DMZ. The incident was never mentioned again. This hit me hard mentally when I turned 62 out of nowhere.
You made it through deployments, training, the worst days of your life - and you were fine. For years, you were fine. Then one ordinary morning, something sm...
