Therese Park

 

The month of July 2023 has historical importance, not only for South Koreans but worldwide. On July 27th, 1953, the Korean War ended with the Ceasefire agreement without Peace Treaty.

During my recent-past visit to Eisenhower Museum/Library in Abilene, Kansas, Eisenhower's hometown, I was disappointed because there was no mention of his monumental contribution to South Korea's freedom granted on July 27, by the Ceasefire Agreement between the UN and Chinese leaders.

I boldly asked the front desk clerk at the museum why there was not a single word "Korea" in the entire place. She said she doesn't know and picked up her phone and called someone. A few minutes later, a female officer walked in with an air of arrogance. After hearing my question, she said, "This Museum/ Library is strictly Ike's contribution during WWII."

       I felt a hand landed on my face for asking a stupid question. Without President Eisenhower, the Korean War would have lingered longer, and my motherland would not have become what she is today-- Number 4 Economy in Asia and No. 12 Economy worldwide. And she is the US's strongest ally, whose troops fought all the wars American troops fought since the Vietnam War—Persian Gulf War, Afghanistan and Iraq War and more.

       Coming home, I researched online and found Eisenhower's letter to then South Korea's president Syngman Rhee dated only weeks before the war ended on July 27th, 1953.

        He wrote: "Dear President, I received on June 2nd the cabled text of your communication dated on May 30. I have given careful consideration it deserved. The ROK has engaged all of its resources…in a struggle that will go down in history…You have dedicated your all without reservation…The principles for which your nation has fought and for which so many of your youth have died are the principles of which defend free men and free nations everywhere… We have demonstrated not only our dedication to the cause of human freedom and political liberty, but also our dedication to an equally important principle, that is there cannot be independence without interdependence, and there cannot be human liberty except as men are bound together by ties of common destiny. It is my profound conviction that under these circumstances acceptance of the armistice is required of the UN and ROK. We'd not be justified in prolonging the war…in the hope of achieving by force the reunification of Korea."

     Our president, Syngman Rhee, a Princeton graduate, who had hoped that MacArthur would drive the communists out of the peninsula and hand him all of Korea undivided and free of communists to rule, didn't want the war to end. As a protest to the United Nations leaders' intention to end the war without his consent, he ordered every organization to rally against the Peace Talks that began shortly after President Truman released General MacArthur from his position "Supreme Commander of Far East" in April, 1951— school children, labor unions, religious groups, educators and even women's groups.

    I remember marching in groups in the summer heat to the assigned place--in front of the U.S. military base or at the parking lot before the train station or on the street. countless grownups were there, too, and we all behaved like mindless puppets, yelling, "Move out Americans; we want reunification! We'll fight on until the last man!"

It was confusing. Only the year earlier, in early July 1950, we had welcomed the Americans on military trucks passing us, shouting gleefully: "Victory U.S.A.!" What had they done to deserve our angry voices now? And when Rhee realized that the Peace Talk continued, ignoring his fury about the war ending, he secretly released 28,000 Communist POWs in the United Nations Command POW camp, who refused to be repatriated to their communist homelands after the war ended.

Where did those POWs go?

Korean people's homes.

    After midnight one evening, our family (of nine, our parents and us seven kids) was awakened by loud banging on our front door followed by a man shouting, "Open the Door! It's a presidential order!" Our father told us not to make noises and stepped into the courtyard and opened the door. I remember hearing an American talking, shallshllashalla and a Korean man interpreting that we must keep the two communist prisoners safe in our home. Our father obediently complied by taking them to our storage room in the back, where we kept a year's supply of non-perishable food such as beans, grains, and dried vegetables. The men left quickly.

       I saw the two strangers in our well area the next morning when I went there to wash my face and brush my teeth. When they noticed me, they stopped washing and tried to smile but looked scared. They appeared to be about my oldest brother's age, almost 16, but were skinnier and gaunt-looking. They returned to their hiding place in a hurry as if afraid that I might shoot them.

A month later, on July 27, thanks to Eisenhower, the war ended with a "Ceasefire Agreement." The fact that Peace Treaty didn't happen has no importance to us at all at the time. Finally, we were free! We had a future. We could dream big dreams.

In the following days, we heard lectures on our newly gained freedom; that it wasn't free; it cost American troops blood, injuries, and even their precious lives; and that we must respect the grantors of our freedom and be grateful.

Our teachers did more than just lecture. They used our physical labor for two projects — to plant trees on our bald mountain and to build an auditorium in the school property for Monday morning assembly that fall and spring. Our Middle school property was still occupied by the South Korean Army as their military base and hospital, so we studied in the dilapidated military compounds. Twice a year for two weeks, in fall and spring, instead of our book bag, we carried farming tools to the mountain and planted saplings provided by the city. It was difficult labor. Our hands blistered and knees were scraped from falling on uneven mountain ground.

And when the planting season ended, we the seventh graders were ordered to bring dirt from the mountain to the construction site where our assembly hall with a capacity of 600 students would be erected. Making ten trips back and forth from the school to the mountain, carrying a bucket full of dirt, was harder than digging dirt and planting saplings.

Did our teachers also carry dirt with us?

Nope. They each held a chart written with 60 student names and marked it until we completed our assignments. Some male teachers kicked the buckets not filled to the top and ordered us to get a new bucket from the mountain, and we obeyed.

As a US citizen for more than a half-century, I have profound respect and gratitude toward former President Eisenhower. I owe everything--my music career and my enjoyment as a retired musician sharing my musical ability with my church congregation or small gathering and my writing would not be possible today had Eisenhower not ended the war when he did. Today, I envision myself meeting former President Eisenhower in heaven with a deep bow.