Korea--The Forgotten War: A Son Remembers. Post by Brian Flora.

US Troops, Korea. 

Brian Flora and his wife Kay retired to Oak Park in 2009 after serving at U.S. Embassies around the world during their thirty-plus year Foreign Service careers.  Brian, an Army brat who also served in the Army in Vietnam, quickly became involved in the planning and organization of Oak Park’s Veterans and Memorial Day ceremonies.  These are relatively small events but offer a traditional, thoughtful approach to the ceremonies with patriotic music provided by my husband John and I (aka the History Singers), meaningful historical commentary to honor our veterans, the Oak Park Police Honor Guard posting the Colors, prayers by a uniformed military chaplain, Taps played as wreaths are laid, etc.  In his remarks at the 2023 Veterans Day ceremony, Brian honored our Korean War veterans by describing the service of his father, Marvin Flora.  Marvin fought in Korea for three years with the Second Infantry Division, also known as the Indian Head Division.  In Korea it became the most bloodied U.S. Division since the Civil War era.  I found his comments poignant and felt they should be posted here:

“This year marks the 70th anniversary of the end of the Korean War.  Actually, it was technically not a war, but “just” a United Nations police action. On June 25, 1950, the United Nations authorized military action to, quote: “Repel the North Korean invasion of the Republic of South Korea and to restore peace and security to the area.” 

 Twenty-one United Nations members contributed combat forces and 55 others contributed non-lethal aid and assistance.  The United States provided by far the largest number of troops and was assigned operational command of the effort.  This “little” police action lasted three years and was a nasty, ugly affair for the 1.8 million U.S. service members who served there.  Around 33,000 were killed in action, another 7,500 have never been accounted for and are presumed to have been killed in action, and over 100,000 were wounded badly enough to require hospitalization. 

 The Korean conflict receives little attention these days and is viewed in contemporary history books more as a Cold War footnote than as a war in which major U.S. military units fought for three years. It is often called the America’s “Forgotten War” or the “Unknown War.” Forgotten, except by those who fought in Korea.  And their families. 

 In the Second World War my father served with distinction for three years with the First Infantry Division, the Big Red One. He made three amphibious landings, including with the first wave onto Omaha Beach.  He had dropped out of his junior year at the University of Illinois after Pearl Harbor so he could serve in the military, and after the war, he decided to stay in the Army and make it his career.  In the summer of 1950, he was an artillery captain stationed at Fort Sill, Oklahoma.  Following the North Korean invasion, he was assigned to the Second Infantry Division, the first stateside unit deployed to Korea.  He commanded an artillery battalion n the Division artillery. 

 I was just shy of my fifth birthday, but I still remember the tearful departure from our home in Lawton, Oklahoma.  Mom and Dad and three little children cried.  For three years my Mom was left alone at home with three small children, and she took great care of us.  I was the oldest, aged five, and the man of the family.  

 My Father didn’t want to leave his family, but duty called, and he responded.  In my remarks today, I would like to remember his Korean War service as a way to honor our Korean War veterans, and, more broadly, the service of all our veterans.    

 A little background on Korea in 1950.  At the end of World War II, the United States and the Soviet Union liberated it from Japanese occupation.  It had been one country but was then divided into two occupation zones at the 38^th parallel.  The U.S. helped establish the Republic of Korea in the south, and the Soviets set up the communist Peoples Republic of Korea in the north.

 In June, 1950, the North Korean People’s Army crossed the 38th parallel and attacked South Korea. Their plan was simple: to unify the Korean Peninsula under the communist rule of Kim Il Sung, grandfather of our current Kim.  As noted, the UN authorized the dispatch of forces to clear the North Korean army out of the south.  Korea had become the first hot battleground of the Cold War.  

United Nations forces under American command faced off against more than three million North Korean and Chinese troops, armed and backed by Soviet Russia.  It was a desperate, gruesome back-and-forth border war under terrible conditions, especially in winter.  The brutal weather inspired a book titled “America’s Coldest War.”  Soldiers froze to death in their foxholes.  Those who fought there would vividly remember the cold and the horror of the war for the rest of their lives.

Now, my Dad’s story.  As I said, hostilities began in June 1950 when the North Korean People’s Army launched a fierce invasion of the South.  They took the South Korean capital Seoul and quickly crushed the South Korean Army, which fled southward.  My Dad’s Second Infantry Division shipped out in July landed at Pusan, a besieged enclave on the southwestern tip of the Korean peninsula.  It was the only part of South Korea still controlled by UN forces. The Second Division was first American unit to reach Korea directly from the United States and was committed piecemeal to the defense of the shrinking Pusan perimeter. There was a good chance that they would be driven into the sea.

The Division’s first big test came when the North Korean People’s Army began a series of sixteen successive human wave night attacks in August. These attacks stretched the outnumbered Second Division to its limits. Dad said the Division’s cooks, clerks, band members and technical and supply personnel picked up M-1 rifles and joined in the fight to defend against the human wave assaults.    

He remembered that enemy would announce their attacks, which usually began around midnight, with eerie, spine-chilling noises.  The night erupted in a weird, crazy din of bugle calls, drums, whistles, gongs, and wild screaming as the North Koreans sought to unnerve the UN forces and disguise the target of their thrusts.  Dad admitted that he and his soldiers were definitely unnerved by the noise as they awaited the inevitable attacks. Nobody got a good night’s sleep, to say the least.

Anyway, in late September the reinforced UN forces counterattacked. The Second Division spearheaded the UN breakout from the Pusan Perimeter and headed north.  This was to support General Douglas MacArthur’s daring amphibious landing behind enemy lines at Inchon, on the northwest coast of Korea.  The Second Division led the Eighth Army’s general offensive all the way up the Korean Peninsula.  The North Korean army, hit from the north and south, crumbled. 

The UN offensive took back Seoul, South Korea’s capital, and continued across the 38th Parallel deep into North Korea.  It captured the North Korean capital, Pyongyang, and closed in on the Chinese border.  This proved to be a major strategic miscalculation on the part of the supreme allied commander, General Douglas MacArthur.  The advance toward the Chinese border provoked a massive, but undetected, Chinese military build-up along its border with North Korea.

Things began to go very wrong.  As fall segued into winter, North Korean army resistance unexpectedly stiffened, thanks to the growing, but somehow undetected, involvement of the Chinese People’s Army.  Finally, the Chinese launched a massive and very well implemented surprise attack in late November, and the outnumbered UN forces retreated in desperation toward South Korea. 

The Second Division was assigned the "mission impossible" of protecting the rear and flank of the Eighth Army as it retreated south in what is known as the Battle of the Ch'ongch'on River.  It was the last major unit to pull out of the line. To make matters worse, the battle was fought during one of the coldest Korean winters on record, with temperatures frequently dropping to as low as minus 30 F.  Because the UN planners had optimistically believed that the war would be over before winter, there was a severe shortage of winter clothing. The Division was hit from all sides. 

In what Dad said was his most harrowing memory of the war, they had to fight their way south through what came to be known as "The Gauntlet," a series of Chinese roadblocks, six miles long, where they were constantly mortared and machine-gunned from both sides of the withdrawal route.  Dad was a battalion commander in the Division’s 38th Field Artillery Regiment which was assigned to hold the line and cover the Division's pull-out with a massive barrage of artillery.  Surrounded on three sides, it suffered heavy casualties.  Some elements were overrun.  It was the last unit to try to break out through the Gauntlet and was butchered in the process.  One battalion lost every one of its guns and vehicles.  Survivors went out on foot.  In the process, the 38^th Field Artillery lost most of its guns and vehicles. Several batteries had all their gunners killed or captured.  But their sacrifices allowed the Second Division, and the rest of the Eighth Army to continue the retreat, during which the Second Division lost over 4,000 men, a full third of the force they had started with.  My Dad made it through the ordeal rattled, but unwounded. Many of his friends didn’t.

The Division, which was declared “unfit for combat,” received replacements and was refitted and re-equipped.  Meanwhile, the Chinese pressed their attack and recaptured Seoul.  The Second Division played a key role in blunting their advance.  The UN established a defensive line and counterattacked to reclaim lost South Korean territory and the capital.  Fighting raged throughout the winter and spring of 1951. 

In August, the Second Division was ordered to attack a series of ridges that were needed to consolidate the UN line. These actions would devolve into the furious battles, now largely forgotten, of Bloody Ridge, the Iron Triangle, Pork Chop Hill, Heartbreak Ridge, and Baldy Hill.  The Division again suffered heavy losses, but the ridges were taken.  An armed and bloody stalemate ensued for the next two years as cease-fire talks, which had begun in July 1950, dragged on.  Fighting continued, and the stalemate was constantly punctuated by aggressive patrols, surprise attacks, and counterattacks. 

Finally, the Korean Armistice Agreement was signed on July, 27 1953, and the Second Infantry Division withdrew to positions south of the Korean Demilitarized Zone.  It was redeployed to the United States in early 1954, more than three years after it had arrived.

For the record, at the beginning of its deployment to Korea, the Division started with around 16,000 effectives.  It suffered 7,094 combat deaths, the highest total among any U.S. Division since the Civil War.  No U.S. Infantry Division in either of the two World Wars suffered as many casualties.

For Dad, the Korean War was a tough, miserable, emotionally draining three years.  It took him away from Mom, me and my brother and sister.  During the war, I remember my mother crying at night when she didn’t think we were watching. It was a hard time for the whole family, including Dad.

On this Veterans Day, I lift my hat to our Korean War veterans, and to all of our veterans.  And their families.  Thank you for your service.” 

Brian Flora

"My dad being promoted to Major in Korea." 

The Story of World War II veteran Dugald Leitch. Post by John Rice

Author and newspaper man John Rice dedicated a recent column to Dugald Leitch: How do we treat our hometown heroes? - Forest Park Review. Below John's more detailed story on this WWII hero: 

Dugald “Bud” Leitch is an unsung hero from Forest Park, whose remarkable life story has just been uncovered. Like millions of Americans, he was a modest blue collar worker, who volunteered to fight in World War II. As pilot of a B-17, Leitch had the most harrowing adventures. After he was shot down on June 29, 1944, he and his crew endured hardships at Stalag Luft III. This POW camp was later immortalized in the 1963 film “The Great Escape.” All of this happened to a man who spent most of his life quietly living at 1514 Elgin.

This house was built in 1923 by Leitch's father, who was also named Dugald. He was quite a character. A native of Scotland, he journeyed to Canada during WWI, to join the famed 48th Highlander regiment. He returned from the battlefield, after being gassed and proudly showed his family a uniform button he had taken from a Prussian soldier. During WWII, he worked in an aircraft factory on the west side. He also served as a guard at the Amertorp plant in Forest Park. When his namesake told him he was enlisting, his only comment was, "You should have done it sooner." 

His mother, Jane, who also spoke with a Scottish burr, said that the Leitches had been patriots for generations. First fighting for the honor of Scotland, now defending the United States.

“Bud” grew up in Forest Park, with a brother and three sisters.  He followed the usual path to Betsy Ross, Middle School and Proviso East. After graduation, he got a job driving a truck at the Western Electric Hawthorne Plant, in Cicero. When the US entered WW II, Leitch happened to be the 2000^th Hawthorne employee to volunteer for the service.  This triggered massive hoopla.

On October 20, 1942, the Western Electric workers turned out for a lunchtime induction ceremony, as Leitch was sworn into the Army Air Corps.  79 cadets from Chanute AFB and a 51-piece band joined Army brass at the Cicero facility. The plant publication described Leitch as, “A big good-natured Scotch-American,” who was trading in his 15-mph truck for a 400-mph plane. Leitch proudly shared the stage with his wife, Alice.

Major Showalter congratulated Western Electric for their part in the war effort. “Not only have you given us 2,000 men, you are building the radios and telephones to guide our fighting men. When “Bud” goes up in a plane, he will depend on the equipment you make here to guide him safely to his target and safely home again.” Well, not always.

At 6’ 2”, 180 pound, Leitch was too tall to be a fighter pilot, so he trained to fly a four-engine B-17, dubbed the “Flying Fortress” for its ability to hold off attackers. He first met the other members of his ten-man crew, training in Salt Lake City. They continued to train in Texas, before heading to Europe. Leitch flew the plane they dubbed “I’ll Be Around” from Maine to Scotland to join the 8^th Air Force.

The crew flew their first combat mission in June 1944, with two sorties over the Normandy beachhead on D-Day. They flew bombing runs over Berlin. In his journal, “Remembrance and Afterthoughts,” Bombardier Walter “Woodie” C. Woodmansee wrote that it was an 8-10 hour flight to the German capital and danger was constant.

“On several missions, I witnessed disasters that I can never forget,” Woodie recalled. He saw B-17’s take direct hits, or go into steep dives, no parachutes emerging. “Woodie’s” own navigator was hit by flak and his radioman lost a leg. Sometimes their targets were military, other times civilian. They also made “milk runs” to drop supplies to resistance fighters. They flew 19 missions in all and returned from 18.

On June 29, 1944, they were assigned to bomb a synthetic oil factory in Leipzig. They were the last member of their group to take off and immediately developed engine trouble. The turret ball gunner reported that Engine 3 was leaking oil badly. “We were leading the low squadron and I didn’t want to turn back,” Leitch later wrote, “So, I let it go.” Leitch reported that the “Flak wasn’t too bad but it was fairly accurate.” He saw flak punch a “fair sized hole” in the main gas tank of plane ahead of him. Its left wing was blazing as it dropped from sight. “I found out later that he exploded.”

Flak was also finding Leitch’s plane but, “We got to the target okay.” “Woodie” dropped their payload and they headed for home. Suddenly, one of their engines started smoking. “Please don’t explode,” Woodie prayed. He saw Leitch and his co-pilot, Robert Johnson talking frantically. The young pilot nursed the wounded plane along, increasing power to the engines that still worked. He headed for the Swiss border.

As Engine 2 began to fail, Leitch gave the order for the crew to bail out. His crew members bailed out at 28,000 feet. Leitch was the last to leave his ship. He put the automatic pilot on glide, slipped into his chute and bailed out the front escape hatch at 16,000 feet. When his parachute opened, “It sure was a beautiful sight.” He could see rest of the crew below him, gliding to earth.

Then he looked up and saw “I’ll Be Around” heading directly toward him. “I felt a little panic but the ship passed over me at about 1,000 feet.” Meanwhile, “Woodie”, hanging in his chute, watched the B-17 circle, dive and explode in a forest. Soon, Leitch and his men would be descending into that same forest. “My chute got caught on top of a tree,” Leitch recalled warmly, “This kept me from getting a very good jar when I landed.”

“Woodie” also landed in a tree, suspended about two feet off the ground.  Seeing the crash, a band of men with rifles were scouring the woods with rifles. They found “Woodie” and locked him in a cellar with three other crew members. When he saw his mates, “They were bruised and bloody from a beating.” The authorities were notified and “Woodie” and his comrades were soon off to Frankfurt for interrogation.

Meanwhile, Leitch walked four miles until he encountered crew member Russel Unverzagt. They were two miles from where their plane went down. “We had a compass but no map. We were right in the center of Germany – 240 miles from any place we could get help.” As they edged their way around a large city, two citizens on bikes spotted them. They dove into a ditch but surrendered when the bicyclists displayed small revolvers. They herded the captured airmen into town.

The townspeople greeted them with unbridled hostility. A Hitler Youth punched Unverzagt in the jaw and a civilian tried to kick him in the stomach. A Luftwaffe ground crew were their unlikely rescuers. They walked them to a truck, where they greeted crewmembers Everett Huso, James Williams, Berton Swift and Colin Gerrels.  “They had been badly beaten by civilians and looked pretty sad,” Leitch wrote, “but I was sure glad to see them.” Johnson was there, too.

The truck also carried cargo. “They had a lot of parts of our B-17.” The Germans had salvaged guns and six of their wing tanks intact. But Leitch was pleased that, “The ship had burned down 2 acres of nice tinder.” Their captors took them to an airbase, where they ate for the first time in 24 hours. “They brought me two slices of black bread, jam and coffee. I’ve yet to see anything that tasted that good at the time.”

After being interrogated in Frankfurt, the crew was brought to Stalag Luft 3, in Sagan, eastern Germany. The camp held 10,000 POW’s divided into five compounds. Leitch and the others were assigned to the center compound, where the “Great Escape” had occurred a year before. 

On March 24, 1943, 76 prisoners escaped through an elaborate tunnel dubbed “Harry.” According to a first-hand account of the escape, by Paul Brickhill, in the book “Clipped Wings,” the movie version of the escape was extremely accurate. The three tunnels, the trolley, the air pump, the dirt disposal devices, even the rope to signal when it was safe to emerge from the tunnel.  (But no mention of a motorcycle chase). Most of the 76 were captured within a day or two. The Gestapo shot 50 of them.  

Because of this massacre, the Allied High Command sent a directive to all prisoners of war. “Urgent warning is given against making future escapes!” It explained that Germans were shooting POW’s and other suspected persons on sight. “In plain English: Stay in camp where you will be safe! Breaking out is now a damned dangerous act.” Leitch and his men made no attempt to escape. They had enough on their hands.

Starvation, homesickness and boredom were the enemies they fought.  “The diet was Spartan to say the least,” Woodie wrote. The Germans had barely enough to feed themselves, let alone POW’s.  Fortunately the Red Cross came to their rescue. “They gave us food, clothes, books, sports equipment and musical instruments,” wrote “Woodie.” He recalled the prisoners read, went to church services and played sports.

Leitch and the others were issued POW ID’s. His features a photograph of a handsome young man, wearing a somber expression. His occupation is listed as “Chauffeur” and his address as 1514 Elgin Avenue, Forest Park, IL.

To notify families, the Germans broadcast the names of POW’s in English on Sunday nights. After hearing the names, short wave operators sent cards and letters to the addresses of the families. Leitch’s mother received a stack of them from all over the country. She sent parcels and letters to Leitch at Stalag Luft 3. He finally received his first letter in December but none of the parcels came through.  

Leitch could have used the food. Breakfast was two slices of bread with syrup and water. Lunch could be pea soup, or stewed barley. Dinner was two slices of bread and butter. The men lived 12 to a block. They pooled their packages from home and Red Cross parcels to make meals. Leitch became the cook of the barracks. It was a satisfying job that ate up the empty hours. By this time, he was having food fantasies about a chocolate bar, a Hillman’s whipped cream puff and steak and eggs.

“Thank God for the Red Cross,” he wrote, “If it wasn’t for them we’d probably starve.” The extra food enabled Leitch to prepare a Thanksgiving feast on November 30, 1944. Following a “Turkey Bowl” football game, “Supper was served about 1600 hours and the table was all set with table cloth and napkins that Ollie got from home it really looked prima. Ollie said grace for supper. There was a full can of Spam, whipped spinach, peas and carrots and Macaroni and rice. For desert we had chocolate pie.”

Aside from avoiding starvation, the men had to keep their minds occupied. The POW’s produced a one-page newspaper, called “The Circuit.” The band played concerts and the men put on plays. Leitch started a sketch book, where he kept his theater tickets to “The Man Who Came to Dinner” and the “Front Page.” The man whose mates had nicknamed “Tiny Tim” was an adept artist. Leitch drew cartoons, wrote poems and even sheet music for original songs like “A Kreigie is Dreaming.” Kreigie was their slang for POW.

As much as he tried to keep his spirits up, the entries in his journal became briefer and gloomier. He reports spending entire days in his three-tier bunk. “Cold damp day. A good day to spend in the sack.” There were some highlights, though. “Won our first game of the season 3-2 in the last half of the 7^th. Woodie hit one over the barracks with two men on. Hollywood finish.” At Christmas, they dined on roast turkey with stuffing and mashed potatoes. They heard war news over smuggled radios. “Allies are making big gains in France. The Russians have started another drive. It can’t be too long now.”

It was the Russians who first approached the camp, prompting the Germans to move the POW’s. On January 27, 1945, they evacuated Stalag Luft 3. “We were forced to march in the snow for two weeks to Stalag 7,” Woodie wrote, “Some died before we got there. We were starving with no shelter. The Red Cross came to the rescue with food. We spent three months in a tent.”

On April 29, 1945, the German guards fled. General George C. Patton arrived in person, “With pearl-handled sidearms on each hip,” Woodie wrote, “He ordered the cooking and baking units to feed us. I’ll never forget the fresh-baked bread given to us.” Getting home proved to be tricky for the POW’s. “Woodie” traveled by car and truck to the coast. He boarded an Italian liner and landed in NJ.

Leitch returned to Forest Park and his job at Western Electric. It was if he had never left, because the company credited him for his war years. He and Alice had one child, Tom, who follow his dad’s path through Forest Park schools and Proviso East.  Leitch never talked about the war with his family. He only told Tom about bailing out, being attacked by Hitler Youth and how the Luftwaffe rescued them. Tom recalled his dad refused to watch the hit comedy, “Hogan’s Heroes,” which spoofed life in “Stalag 13.”

Leitch retired from Western Electric, after 37 years. He died in 1997, at the age of 76. Alice had preceded him in death. After his dad’s death, Tom found a treasure trove of memorabilia about his father’s war years. This included photos, journals and the issue of Western Electric’s newspaper, “The Microphone” with a photo of Dugald Leitch dominating the front page.

After the war, “Woodie” returned to upstate New York and attended Syracuse University on the GI Bill. He had displayed writing talent in the journal he kept at Stalag Luft 3 and wanted to study journalism. However, his future wife, Helen, “Converted him from journalism to geology.” The couple went to work for the Geologic Survey which sent them to western United States and to Australia for two years. They raised four kids.

After they retired, the couple restored an old farmhouse overlooking one of the Finger Lakes. Today, “Woodie” and Helen live in a retirement home in Rochester, NY. They have kept their sharp minds into their 90’s. In a recent phone conversation, “Woodie” sounded as chipper as ever and invited a reporter to visit them. He recalled playing softball in the camp but didn’t remember the game-winning home run he hit over the barracks. Hollywood finish.

(From John Rice: This story came about thanks to an inquiry by Robert Johnson’s son-in-law, Allen Odstdiek. He asked a reporter to find the ten members of his father-in-law’s B-17 crew. He found every one. Nine were gone and one remains very much alive.)