Korea: Troubled Truce

A hush settled over the blasted land scape at 10 p.m. on July 27, 1953. General Matthew Ridgway, commander of the United Nations forces, later recalled that “there was no wild celebrating or fraternizing such as had marked the end of other wars.” Men slumped wearily around a bottle of whisky or tried the unusual sensation of standing upright without flinching. Thus, after two years and 17 days of simultaneous fighting and negotiating, the Korean War came to an end just 15 years ago this week. The U.S. suffered 140,000 casualties, including 34,000 dead, in the more than three years of bitter fighting that followed the North Korean invasion of South Korea, but it kept the South from being overrun.

Actually, the Korean War—or “conflict,” because no one ever officially declared war—has never legally ended. The armistice that the combatants signed 15 years ago led to one of the longest truces in the modern history of warfare. Since its signing, the Military Armistice Commission, composed of U.N. observers and U.S. and North Korean officials, has met 273 times at Panmunjom, right in the middle of the Demilitarized Zone set up by the truce. The meetings have always been bitter and hostile, but lately they have taken on an even harsher tone as the result of North Korea’s seizure of the Pueblo and its increased attempts at infiltration into the South.

Improper Bands. Since Lyndon Johnson’s visit to South Korea in late 1966, more “serious incidents” have occurred than in all the previous 13 years of truce. So far this year, there have been more than 200 such episodes, in which six G.I.s, 36 South Korean soldiers and 55 North Korean infiltrators have been killed. North Korean Premier Kim II Sung recently declared a “month of struggle” against the South to mark the truce anniversary. Only last week, seven North Korean infiltrators were killed by U.S. and South Korean troops in two separate clashes along the 151-mile Demilitarized Zone, and a U.S. soldier was also killed.

Everyone keeps track of the statistics, grim or absurd. Since the Military Armistice Commission began meeting, North Korea has charged the U.N. command with no fewer than 56,889 truce violations, most of them such minor procedural matters as the presence of improper arm bands on U.N. guards. The U.N. has admitted 93 violations and charged North Korea with 6,313. Pyongyang has admitted only two, the last one in 1953. It is so adamant about not taking blame for the increased tensions along the DMZ that it refuses to accept the bodies of slain North Korean soldiers, insisting that they are South Koreans deliberately disguised in Communist uniforms.

The Ice-Cream Parlor. At Panmunjom itself, a petty little game of one-upmanship still goes on. Long ago, the North Koreans built a circular guard-post on a hill (dubbed “the ice-cream parlor” by the U.N. side) so as to have the highest building at Panmunjom. When the U.N. command took away the altitude superiority by erecting a two-story building, North Korea put a star atop the ice-cream parlor to re-establish its height advantage by a couple of inches. U.N. guards at Panmunjom are mostly U.S. military police, chosen for their size and brawn to tower over the smaller North Korean MPs. When they pass each other, there are spates of slanging, spitting and even slugging. Each side delivers choice epithets in the other’s language. “Bastard!” shrills a North Korean. “Kae seki [son of a bitch],” mutters a G.I.

Inside the truce hut, the game continues across the green felt table that is located precisely athwart the cease-fire line. A battle of flagpoles once went on for weeks as each side tried to have its flag stand higher in the meeting room. They finally agreed that only miniature flagpoles, both of precisely equal size, would be placed on the table, but North Korea has put a spike point atop its tiny table pole to gain a minute one-inch height advantage. Language across the table, which is predictably tough, reached a peak last year when the senior member on the U.N. side, U.S. Major General Richard Ciccolella, violated past practice and started addressing his opposite number directly with such salty salutations as “Pak, you bastard …” Once, when Ciccolella stared out a window while the North Korean side was trying to make a point from a chart, North Korean Major General Pak Chung Kuk admonished him in passable English: “Look at the goddam chart!”

Once seated at the table for a session, the senior members of either side cannot leave before the meeting is over without signifying a walkout. Since the meetings sometimes run as long as nine hours, the confrontation is known informally as “the battle of the bladder.” Only the two senior members speak, and they do not speak to each other but through intermediaries, communicating only by glares. Everything is translated not only into English and Korean, but into Chinese as well; four Chinese delegates are present at almost every meeting, with Mao badges displayed on their tunics.

Close Watch. Twice the U.S. was caught by surprise in Korea, once by the invasion from the North and again when the Chinese crossed the Yalu. Lately, in response to North Korea’s new aggressiveness, it has increased its defenses along the DMZ to counter infiltration moves, has examined every possible North Korean strategy and has kept a close intelligence watch on the movements of North Korean troops and armor. So far, North Korea has confined itself to nasty words and restricted infiltration and sniping. There is, however, increasing concern that Kim II Sung may be planning something more substantial that could effectively write finis to the long and troubled truce.