Day 221: Mid summer, time to mow the Lawn!

The "New" building

Out in the country, maybe 10 miles from the city of Pyongyang.

A compound made up of 2 main buildings, guards quarters & a cook house/root cellar.

Surrounded by an earthen embankment on all sides. Terraced rice fields climbing a small hill to the west, flatter fields to the east. Dirt road ¼ mile from camp entrance goes up past a radar site on the hill. Can see the city to the north/northeast with high mountains beyond. Can’t see much at all to the south.

Gray, but fairly clean, granite buildings; 3 story main building with admin & cell block; 2 story side building across a soccer field; 1 story guards quarters; 1 story cook & storage house behind main building.

Between main & side buildings, a dirt & stone covered soccer field with a basketball net at one end.

In late March, they moved us one dark night. In buses with curtain covered windows so we couldn’t tell where we were going. Just before the move we were issued new uniforms. That had to be a positive sign. Maybe they were going to release us and show off their lenient treatment, all nice and clean! Even surrounded by AK-47 toting guards, the anticipation level was sky high. No release, it’s a "new" building, damn it. At least this time when we got off the busses we didn’t have to run the gauntlet of a screaming kicking crowd. Marched in through the main door, we were soon paired off in new combinations. Existing room assignments were combined, now it was 8 guys to a room. The officers were still kept in separate rooms but at least we knew we were all together. 8 men to a room! The chance to add 4 new guys to the discussion, to introduce new stories, new theories, compare guard nicknames, hear about different life experiences, man, this was heaven. Not that the original 4 of us had run out of anything to talk about, but, we had run out of things to talk about. John had been describing the last flick he saw in the land of the big PX, Bonnie & Clyde, for so long the other 3 of us could recite the script, screen credits, even the IATSE union label at the end. Jim, Brush & 2 Ralph’s; "Welcome, a cup of lukewarm dirty water all around! By the way, what do you know?"

The March uniforms lasted until the heat arrived at the end of May. Now with the arrival of the mosquitoes, it was time to change into a summer attire! Light beige outfits with goofy oversized black sneakers and Chairman Mao hats. A 3 button, Windsor cut jacket, snazzy, we looked like missionaries, or maybe it’s spies! The new building also had a "meeting hall." Now Super C had a place where he would whale on for sometimes 6 hours about various points in US history. George Washington was a slave owner! The Russians defeated the Germans and Japanese in World War II. "How is your life today" was the running question from a grinning Super C as he started every meeting. "Just a pisser & how is yours, turd head." Continually they tried to mess with our brains. "You do it this way, if you do not do it this way you will be severely punished." We did it "this way" and were still severely punished! You can not observe religious holidays; but you can celebrate Easter! A guard would point and grunt for someone to clean that spot high up on a wall. The appointed guy would drop to the floor and start cleaning a non-existent spot on the floor. Hey, numb nuts, 2 can play this game!

With 8 guys in our room the new stories lasted for --- about a week. Super C’s nightly lectures weren’t very informative: "the Vietnamese cadres are winning, they shot God down with a missile!" Now it was down to reading to improve our collective intellect. Korea Today and Pyongyang Times became our main (only) source of outside information. The Korcoms, in their zest to educate, provided for our minds as well as our bodies! Korea Today, a monthly color magazine, is dedicated to telling the world of the Korean ideals of Juche, Cholima the winged horse and the beloved leader, genius commander, father of the 40 million Koreans, Kim Il Sung. Written in English, the stories all proclaimed the benefits and gains of life in the DPRK. On Korean independence: "we make everything, we are entirely self sufficient, we do not import anything." (" Even the Nikon cameras, Marlboro cigarettes and the 57 Plymouth convertible that fat General rides in?") World visitors like Julius Nyerere from Tanzania coming to find out how the DPRK had become so successful under the principals of Juche. Kim Il Sung leading the valiant KPA against attacks from the American imperialist aggressor running dogs and their traitor lackeys from the south. A review of the latest song or film praising the outstanding fatherly leadership of iron willed, ever victorious, genius commander, Kim Il Sung. When the latest issue of Korea Today was to much to take, we could always turn to the weekly Pyongyang Times newspaper. Wait a minute, it’s the same damned thing! Surprisingly, you could deduce things from the 2 periodicals. There were sporadic references and photos of 2 US Army imperialist helicopter pilots who were shot down by the victorious forces of the KPA in 1964. From the stories, we deduced the 2 pilots were held for 1 year during which time they were paraded around the country for propaganda photos before being turned over at Panmunjom. Now that’s news! 1 year, is that the Korcom plan? Milk it for all it’s worth for a year, then declare victory and get rid of us? There were also stories on a number of former US imperialist aggressor troops who saw the error of their ways and were now enjoying life to it’s fullest in the DPRK. We assumed, correctly, they were AWOL US soldiers, wanted for various crimes committed in South Korea. But, 2 US helicopter pilots, intruded into NK air space , milk them for propaganda – 1 year------this is important!

At least in the new building Super C allowed us some outdoor exercise at this pleasure palace. They even gave us a soccer ball! We took to it with a vengeance. 30 guys on a side! The soccer ball lasted – a week. Everything in this damned country lasts – a week. As the soccer ball became the target of our aggressions it not only wouldn’t hold air, but the leather was worn out. Now the famous US inventiveness took over. Jim Layton kept the ball and one night re-sowed it into a slim, missile like football! Here we go! American football – Pete Bucher style! The soccer wars took their toll in bruised and broken bodies. Too many guys on the field, we had to slim this down for football. 20 guys on a side! The skipper played for Nebraska in the Orange Bowl, we need some plays! With his ever-present exuberance, the skipper decided he’d be captain of one side. A typical play involved 12 guys in motion. The 12 eligible receivers ran multiple zig-zag patterns and fakes while the rest circled the skipper and played pass protectors. Between the daily talks and lectures from Super C, Pete would spend the rest of his time diagramming plays on pieces of splintered toilet paper (barely processed wood.) When we assembled the next day, everybody was handed his assignment. It was poetry in motion. 12 guys running down field, 20 defenders running around after the offensive 12 and Pete the passer with his 7 protectors – gigantic clouds of dust everywhere. The pass was finally released – where the hell did it go, who’s got it? Tim Harris, Pete’s favorite target. If Tim managed to snare the bullet shaped sphere, he would dodge, twist and make a mad dash for the goal line. As the dust rose, we all took on a mantra of dull gray. The Korcom guards would stand there and be totally enthralled as they watched us run around in obvious disarray. We ain’t gonna have no trouble beating these idiot imperialist warmongers in the next war, reasoned the guards. The games started out as flag football, but with no flags and everybody looking alike, you had to know who was on your side and who wasn’t. It didn’t take long for this game to evolve into a form of tackle football. If a guy tried to run past you, push him with 2 hands and preferably push him to the ground! Nobody on Pete’s side wanted to go back to the huddle after blowing a "tackle." You had to take the runner down, don’t let him get behind you! Now it was dislocated knees & ankles, bloodied hands, elbows and shins. One day the Korcoms watched in total excruciating horror as Joe Sterling snapped his broken nose back into place – ah, that’s better, I can breath again, Joe reasoned calmly! Maybe these imperialist warmongers are super human! In addition to the ever rising casualty list, our natty uniforms were becoming rags! Our jailers must have held a meeting amongst themselves, "OK, whose gonna explain this to Pyongyang!" The next day the results of that meeting were soon apparent; "Them bastards took our football!" Now it was back to regular calisthenics, shit!

Going to the toilet was always a challenge in North Korean society. If you were caught alone in the hallway going or returning from the head you became the target of each guard’s amusement. Lets see, how high can I karate kick this imperialist? When one of them shouted "MOYA", you were to stop immediately and stand at attention with your head bowed against your chest. One of these 16 year old mental giants got me in the side of the head and adam's apple. I hit the deck seeing total black. When I came to, I must have tried to grab the guard because he started running, AK-47 in tow, down the hall for all he was worth. With that I silently withdrew to our room and sweated bullets for the inevitable "attitude adjustment" I knew was coming. Nothing ever did. He must have been too ashamed to admit to anyone that this non-repentant US imperialist warmonger was going to kill him! Visiting the head was definitely a group effort. There is protection in numbers. With 8 guys going to the head, your chances of being picked on went down significantly. Also, boredom made going to the head a way to breakup the monotony. 8 to 10 times a day we would bang on our door, yell "Penso Cow Su Sumicka" to the guard that finally wandered down to see what was interrupting his peace. If he were so inclined, the guard would grunt and out into the hall our little band would proceed, heads bowed in proper repentant form. To make this time out of the room last for all it was worth we invented a new sport, we took up professional tooth brushing! For 8 guys, 20 minutes was a good target time for a head call. When we were released the Navy dentists couldn’t believe our teeth. Of course, the top layer of enamel was gone because of the sand based toothpaste, but our teeth were gleaming white!

Nobody but the highest person in any NK group is allowed to come up with an idea, let alone make a decision. No matter what happened, no Korcom would make a decision. "I must check this out with the proper authorities!" Jesus, I’ve had the running shits for the last 10 days, I just want another sheet of that great toilet paper! As part of our lenient treatment we were issued some fruits of this paradise on earth. Each of us received a toothbrush, the sand based toothpaste, a 4' square sheet of gray, very rough paper to be cut down for toilet paper, comb, small hand mirror (why – I never figured out) and finally, a very dull pen knife. Because we only got a shave and haircut when the Korcoms needed more photos of us enjoying life in this land of good and plenty, the pen knife became a razor. I did a pretty good reverse Fu Manchu moustache on my self, clean skin where the moustache was supposed to be.

It must have finally come to Super C’s attention that the compound was beginning to look a little ragged. As the summer progressed, the grass and weeds around the compound continued their fight for life in this people’s paradise. I watched as the pleasant greenery fought to escape the bounds of North Korean brutality. It seemed to me that everything I saw in this land of the lost was destined to be killed or at least severely wounded to the point of finally submitting and giving up the fight. In our situation, I could associate with those weeds. One hot summer day, the word was grunted out by the duty officers. Fall out with pen knives in hand. In company formation, out we tromped into the front yard. The Korcoms then proceeded to demonstrate the proper method of grass and weed trimming. In unison we dropped to our knees and proceeded to mow the lawn, with pen knives! The humor of this was too much to contain. Roaring laughter broke out among the troops. Pete, fearing we would be viewed as rebellious and therefore not repentant, came to the rescue again, telling the Colonel we were so appreciative of being outdoors in this lovely weather we were delirious with delight! 3 hours later, 82 imperialist warmongers had cut about a ¼ acre of weedy lawn! Dirty and sunburned we returned to our rooms to relive our experiences with this latest Korean invention, obviously Juche inspired– a 164 legged, laughing, mowing machine!

10 PM, roll out my mosquito netting, it’s time to end day 221. Little did I know until the next night’s dinner meal. We had spent the day preparing the ingredients for our future rations – grass salad! The meals had been getting especially meager lately, even for the Korcom guards. Now this was central planning! As Super C, through his interpreter Silver Lips, would say on numerous occasions – "What a Luck!"