From top: Canadian Korean War veterans pay their respects at the United Nations Memorial Cemetery in Busan, South Korea, including (front, from left) Roy Rushton, Peter Worthington and William Lee; Veterans Affairs Minister Rey Pagtakhan at the Republic of Korea National Cemetery; Lew Murphy of Newfoundland places pebbles from his home province on the graves of comrades; thousands of sunbathers cover the beach at Busan; an overview of the Armistice line, showing lush foliage on the South Korean side and the treeless hills to the north; the Korean National War Monument in Seoul; a South Korean guard peers across the demarcation line to the communist north at Panmunjom.

“This is the first time that I realized that what we went through in Korea 50 years ago was all worthwhile.”

The speaker was Harry Graham, a veteran of the Korean War from Kitchener, Ont., as he gazed in awe from a beachfront hotel in Busan (formerly Pusan) at the teeming multitudes that seemingly covered every grain of sand on the shoreline in this bustling and modern city of four million near the tip of the Korean Peninsula on the Sea of Japan.

“It’s so clean,” said the former soldier with the Royal Canadian Army Service Corps, “and the people are so friendly. What I remember from the last time I was here were stinking rice paddies, thatched roof huts (those that hadn’t been destroyed) and the thousands of desperate and starving refugees that clogged the roads and trails.”

Graham’s reaction was typical among the more than 40 other veterans, observers, youth representatives and a guard of honour from the Canadian Forces on a Veterans Affairs Canada pilgrimage who were returning to this southeast Asian country this year, most for the first time since the signing of the armistice 50 years ago in Panmunjom that ended the three-year Korean War, but not the hostilities, roughly along the 38th parallel of the Korean Peninsula.

It was here in this southern port city, an area that survived the war relatively unscathed, that the veterans from Canada completed their 10-day tour of their former battlefields, relaxing on the seashore after commemoration ceremonies and the unveiling of a monument to the Canadian dead at the United Nations Memorial Cemetery. The veterans browsed in open-air markets set up in every nook and cranny among the narrow streets that escaped the devastation suffered by other areas of South Korea during the three years of war.

Here, also, the old traditions still dominate, overshadowed by the miles of highrise apartment buildings and office towers along this busy seaport that has played an important role in bringing some 48 million South Koreans back from the destruction of war to the 12th ranked economic powerhouse in the world. On the beaches, however, old Korean modesty and tradition shone through. There were no skimpy bathing suits, and in fact most of the swimmers and sunbathers appeared fully dressed. On the streets, women didn’t walk hand in hand with their husbands or boyfriends. They followed metres behind, carrying the groceries or other bags.

The story and the scene were much different as the veterans and observers, led by Veterans Affairs Minister Rey Pagtakhan, arrived in the capital city of Seoul on the afternoon of July 23 after an 11-hour flight from Vancouver. This was the first eye-opener for the veterans, many of whom had never seen the city during the years of fighting. The ones who did remembered only rubble-strewn streets and few if any buildings standing in the capital city that changed hands four times during the war. Now, as they gazed out of the windows in their air-conditioned ultra modern hotel in the heart of the city, they saw office towers, wide streets, new bridges and miles of apartment complexes in a modern urban setting that played host to the Olympics and the world in 1988.

On the streets below, traffic (almost all cars and trucks made in Korea) bustled around a traffic circle seemingly 24 hours a day. It was a traffic scene made more complicated to western visitors in the fact that there were few traffic lights, no crosswalks, no stop signs and no left turns allowed. Underground tunnels had to be used to get to a tempting old palace gate and grounds just across the traffic circle.

It was a reminder for the Canadian veterans that this is Korea, a peninsula bordering on China and Russia and only a short air flight from Japan, a land that has a history of war dating back to the Bronze Age. Artifacts of war make up a great portion of the Republic Of Korea (ROK) National Museum, and there are many displays that remind visitors that the war with North Korea in this divided country is not over. South Korea never signed the armistice that halted the conflict with the Communist north in 1953, and two powerful armies face each other across the 148-mile demilitarized zone (DMZ) that bisects the peninsula along the 38th parallel.

It is a border filled with tension, with frequent skirmishes, incidents and firefights, an area that has become even more tense in recent months after U.S. President George Bush included North Korea as part of the “Axis of Evil” in the war against terrorism. In reaction, North Korea has withdrawn from the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, kicked out international inspectors and has asserted that it already has nuclear weapons and will defend itself against any attack by U.S. forces. It’s a state of emergency that has persisted since July 27, 1953, when the armistice agreement halted the vicious fighting in the war that cost the lives of some 900,000 soldiers, including 516 of the 26,791 Canadians who took part in the conflict, and left more than two million civilians killed or wounded.

The origins of the conflict date back to the end of WW II when the peninsula was split at the 38th parallel by the Soviet Union and the U.S. as the Allies drove Japan out of Korea. In a surprise tank-led attack across the line June 25, 1950, Communist forces captured Seoul. The city was retaken in September 1950 by the U.S. 8th Army and only a few United Nations troops. An Allied drive to the Yalu River on the Chinese border was halted in late November and the UN forces were driven back to the Imjin River. Armies of the Chinese Peoples Republic entered the conflict on New Year’s Eve, smashing all along the front and retaking Seoul before being stopped some 30 miles south of the capital. A counterattack by UN forces retook Seoul and pushed the Communist forces back into North Korea.

The signing of the armistice carved out the DMZ, a 2.5-mile swath of mountainous land stretching across the peninsula designed to serve as a buffer zone off limits to large troop concentrations or heavy weaponry like tanks and artillery. In the middle was drawn the Military Demarcation Line (MDL). Anyone crossing that line, then or now, would likely be shot.

Two trips into this area during the pilgrimage were among the highlights of the Canadian veterans’ nostalgic tour. In the first trip the Canadians visited a Republic of Korea observation post on the DMZ, where elite South Korean troops send out patrols, scan from watchtowers any activities on the north side of the demarcation line and use sophisticated instruments to detect any tunnel digging activity by the northern forces. Several tunnels have already been found, and it is suspected many more exist.

“I don’t know about the other members of our delegation, but after seeing the demilitarized zone I’m finding it difficult to believe that we are only 50 kilometres outside of Seoul,” said the Filipino-born Pagtakhan to ROK Major-General Kim Kwang-Dong, who was officially welcoming the pilgrims to the outpost. “For me it has brought home the reality of living in a land where there is a real possibility of war–where armies are ready to go into combat at a moment’s notice. We have 13 young Canadians with us who have never seen such a thing, and veterans with us who have seen this part of Korea before, but under much more difficult circumstances.”

There was a small taste of that hardship when the large tour buses could not negotiate the steep slope and winding trail to the observation post at the top of a mountain. Smaller army vehicles were used to complete the trip for those in wheelchairs. Others struggled up the last 50 yards, assisted by Canadian servicemen and youth representatives.

The return ride to Seoul was a more uplifting experience for the Canadians as Pagtakhan unveiled plaques at two schools along the way–the Paik Hak Middle School and the No-Gok Primary School–that were originally established by the officers and men of the 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade, part of the large group of Canadian troops who remained in Korea after the signing of the armistice to aid in rebuilding the country. “It must be very rewarding for many of the veterans among us to see that such good flowed from your comrades’ efforts in 1954,” said Pagtakhan, as he stood before the now modern buildings that sprang from such humble beginnings. And although school was out for the summer recess, the primary school band turned out in full force to play several selections and welcome the Canadians.

The trip back to the DMZ the next day, July 27, was a more solemn occasion as the veterans prepared to come in viewing range of their former adversaries at a UN Command-sponsored ceremony commemorating the 50th anniversary of the signing at the former peaceful farming village of Panmunjom.

The skies were threatening rain as the Canadian veterans boarded the three tour buses in Seoul shortly after 6 a.m. for the 52-kilometre trip. It was to be, as chief tour organizer Chip Bowness said, the “longest day,” starting with the armistice ceremony and ending about 10 p.m. with a ceremony at the huge American base in Seoul–the Yongsan Garrison–commemorating the exact time when all firing stopped about 12 hours after the armistice was signed in Panmunjom.

The pastoral scenes of quaint villages, farmers tending their dairy herds, and the ever-present rice paddies and fields of corn, peppers, onions and other crops, flashed by the windows. But the scenes changed gradually as the buses approached the DMZ and signs of an uneasy truce became more prominent in this divided country. Camouflaged gun emplacements could be spotted on the hillsides and concrete towers, as well as overpasses and bridges, have been constructed so they could be collapsed to block highway routes to Seoul in case of an attack from the north. Huge signs mounted on hillsides and visible across the DMZ can flash propaganda messages inviting would-be defectors to change sides.

One striking image the veterans got as they neared the DMZ, however, was an abrupt change in the scenery. On the south side the hills and countryside are green and lush with almost jungle-like foliage. On the north side bare hills stretch into the distance, the trees having long since been burned for firewood in this energy-starved and desperately poor country of some 21 million people. There have even been published reports of starving North Koreans eating the bark from trees.

Approaching through tight security and along roads prominently marked warning of land mines in the area, the Canadians were escorted to a huge modern building that borders the demarcation line and is the interface between the United Nations Command and North Korea for all matters relating to the armistice. In front of the building, facing a similar structure on the North Korean side, hand-picked ROK guards, all more than six feet tall and proficient in martial arts, stood half hidden behind a row of low blue buildings that straddle the demarcation line. They were half hidden, we were told, so that in the event of a sniper bullet from the other side they would be wounded and not killed. The only activity on the northern side, as some 1,500 veterans and visitors from other countries involved in the Korean War gathered in a huge tent for the commemoration ceremony, was a lone North Korean guard on the steps of the nearby North Korean structure.

The monsoon skies opened up in earnest and water ran freely under the tent flaps as the UN, ROK and U.S. combined forces commander General Leon Laporte led the speakers at the commemoration ceremony, followed by New Zealand Prime Minister Helen Clark and General Paik Sun Yup, a well-known general in the South Korean army during the war. One surprise for the Canadians after the ceremony was a visit to a nearby hillside where a new monument has been erected, designed by Canadian Forces Sergeant Dave Dumont of Fort Saskatchewan, Alta., who works as a clerk at the UN Command. The monument, with the flags of 22 countries down the sides and text in the middle, points directly at the area where the armistice was originally signed and the “bridge of no return” where prisoners of war were exchanged.

“The arrow also points to a tree stump in the distance,” said Dumont, “where two American army officers were hacked to death by North Koreans when they first attempted to remove the tree that was interfering with their line of vision from an observation post.” The North Koreans at first left the site Aug. 18, 1976 after telling the Americans the tree could not be cut down because it was planted by their president. The Americans proceeded with their task, however, and the North Koreans returned with reinforcements and hacked the Americans to death with axes. The UN Command then went on full alert, involving air, naval and ground movements. The tree was then removed without further incident.

The rain still poured heavily as the buses made their way back to Seoul, but skies cleared before a special commemoration ceremony was held at the sprawling U.S. army base of Yongsan. Cannons fired a 21-gun salute as a reminder of the hour, exactly 12 hours after the truce was signed, at which the shooting stopped and the armistice took effect. As honour guards from several nations, including Canada, lined Lombardo Field, former U.S. secretary of state Henry Kissinger told the hundreds of people in the audience he hoped it would not be another 50 years for Korea’s dream of unification to be recognized.

Reflecting on the day’s events, Pagtakhan said, “Canadian soldiers fought for a country they had never visited, and a people they had never met. We will remain forever grateful to those who served in the Korean War some 50 years ago.”

And Dave Davidson, national president of the Korea Veterans Association (KVA), was also reflective: “Fifty years ago when the Armistice was signed I was a young Canadian soldier in Korea, and I thank God for allowing me to return here today.”

In the lobby of the Seoul hotel, it was mixed feelings that were running through the mind of former corporal Lew Murphy of the Royal Canadian Regiment, a 70-year-old Newfoundlander from St. John’s who got his baptism of fire on hill 355 in Korea. He was a radio man in a forward observation post that was hit by what he thought was a round from a self-propelled gun. “It hit in front of the OP and blew it out backwards, and me with it. I landed on the ground in a trench, dazed and blinded. I couldn’t see anything.” He crawled up the trench, feeling his way with his left hand on the trench wall, until he found the opening to the officers’ bunker. “They picked me up, cleared the dirt and debris from my eyes, and I started to come around.” A short time later the bombardment started again, followed by the shouting and yelling in Chinese. “I had both hands covering my head, and was saying Hail Marys and Our Fathers over and over.” He was later taken out of the line by a medical unit and, after seven days’ rest moved back up the hill where he stayed until his company was moved into reserve.

But that was then. Today he had just returned from the wedding in Seoul of his son Daniel, who teaches English in the school system in the Korean capital, and the senior Murphy apparently made a big hit at the celebrations by singing the folk song Danny Boy. “I don’t know why, but Danny Boy is a popular song in South Korea.” To prove his point, he asked a Korean couple sitting opposite of us in the lobby if they knew the song. They immediately started humming the tune.

The Canadian veterans were again on the buses the following day, this time bound for the battle sites around Gapyong (formerly Kapyong), where the first Canadian troops went into battle in Korea in 1951. It was a battle in which the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry was awarded the United States Presidential Citation Of Distinction for its courageous stand against the Communist forces. As the battle unfolded on April 22, the 27th Commonwealth Bde. was encamped near Gapyong, having just been withdrawn from the line some 40 miles to the north. The PPCLI 2nd Battalion was encamped near pleasant walnut groves enjoying rest, relaxation and re-outfitting. But it was not to be. The enemy launched a massive breakthrough attempt, and the Canadians and Australians were sent in to stem the tide.

Lieutenant Mike Levy and Sergeant Roy Rushton led 10 Platoon at the very summit of Hill 677 and were enduring intense enemy attacks. Both men directed “friendly” artillery fire into their own positions, and held their ground despite being surrounded until relieved by D Company at first light. Rushton, now 85, from Westville, N.S., and a WW II veteran who still carries a bullet in his leg from that conflict, led the parade of veterans to the Commonwealth War Memorial in Gapyong. In an interview later, he recalled one of his most vivid memories about how some of his young soldiers saw death on the battlefield for the first time.

“We were walking along a road, the soldiers singing and laughing when we came upon the bodies of several dead Americans, all Negroes and all in their underwear in sleeping bags and all had their throats cut. Apparently the Chinese had come down the mountain and slaughtered the whole bunch as they slept, except for one of the soldiers. He was sitting up in his sleeping bag, his hands in a praying position.” His patrol continued on, this time in dead silence.

There was one more special ceremony for the Canadian veterans before leaving the Gapyong area. The Canadian Korea War National Memorial Garden, with land, monument and upkeep donated by local Koreans, was designated during the pilgrimage visit as a national historic site by the Canadian government in a ceremony led by Pagtakhan, Canadian Ambassador to Korea Denis Comeau and Chief of Defence Staff General Ray Hénault. It is “international recognition” said Pagtakhan, of Canada’s contribution to the Korean War through some 27,000 army, navy and air force troops and a further 7,000 personnel who served after the Armistice with the United Nations Command monitoring force.

The pilgrims were on the way early again the next morning, but this time they would be travelling in modern, air-conditioned railway coaches on a five-hour ride through the countryside to South Korea’s second largest city, the port city of Busan, which served as provisional capital of the country during the war. It was a trip that brought back memories to William Lee of Edmonton, who served in the battles around Gapyong and throughout the south with the PPCLI. As the tidy rice fields, peaceful villages and new roads and bridges sped by, Lee was remembering towns and cities, like Seoul, flattened by war and roads clogged with hungry refugees, miles and miles of refugees.

“I remember one mother who was carrying a baby. All she had was a spoon, and she was eating our garbage.”

The hilly terrain and the modern buildings around Busan also brought back memories for Gerald Vanstone, 72, the little boxer from Burton, N.B., who arrived in Korea in 1951 with the Royal Canadian Regt. “When we arrived at the port of Pusan an American band was playing If I Knew You Were Coming I’d Have Baked A Cake.” We had two weeks of training, up and down these mountains, before going into the line.” But this bantamweight boxer, who learned to fight thanks to bullies in his neighbourhood, came through the war unscathed, at least physically. Although his hands have been weakened by arthritis, he can still demonstrate on occasion some fancy footwork he picked up during 102 fights as an amateur with a record of 96 wins, five losses and one draw. Vanstone retired as a corporal from the army in 1986 after 37 years service.

The duties of the Canadian veterans were light in Busan, but provided some of the most emotional moments of the pilgrimage. A memorial ceremony was held at the bronze statue of an unarmed Canadian soldier with Korean children in his arms who stands as a symbolic sentinel over the graves of 378 Canadians killed in the war. Titled The Monument To Canadian Fallen, it is the only life-sized statue, the work of Korean sculptor Yoo Young-mun, in the UN Cemetery at Busan where some 2,300 soldiers from 11 countries are buried. Another service was held in the cemetery at a monument to those missing in action–16 Canadians, 8,177 Americans and 470,000 South Korean soldiers.

In a farewell reception and dinner in Busan, Pagtakhan said that for him the past week had been a series of remarkable experiences. “I am sure many of you had mixed emotions. Those of you who served here so bravely 50 years ago have had an opportunity to see what has become of the nation to which you brought peace. I hope the last few days have brought you some inner peace.”

And observer Allan Parks, Dominion President of The Royal Canadian Legion, summed up his thoughts on the week’s activities. “There was one evening that the veterans were able to get together as a group and talk about old times, the buddies they left behind. I feel this should be part of all pilgrimages in the future.”