Korean War Testimony
Freedom is not free

As we celebrate Independence Day, July 4, we would like to thank those who have served in our armed forces that we might be free.

 
Leith Cunningham at age 17 and today

By Leith Cunningham

Leith Cunningham, a member of the Cadillac, Michigan, church, served in the Korean War in 1950 and 1951.

The blue-eyed, freckle-faced, 17- year-old Christian boy soldier from Arkansas sat on his haunches on a frozen mountain in Korea, peering through his binoculars as he strained to identify the sound and smell coming from a clump of shrubbery a couple hundred yards down the opposite slope.

He maintained his vigilance as a light .30-caliber machine gunner in his forward outpost position with the Indianhead, Second Infantry division. Recovering from a chest cold, he had the almost uncontrollable urge to cough. Only the fear of revealing his position gave him the incentive to keep it contained.

The vivid memories the night before of being attacked by hundreds of screaming, bugle-blowing Chinese before dawn sent chills down his spine. His platoon was still dragging frozen dead comrades to the rear.

However, none of these thoughts changed what was expected of him. A few days earlier, Gen. Matthew B. Ridgeway had ordered Operation Killer into effect. Its purpose was to inflict a maximum number of casualties upon the enemy, while keeping our own casualties at a minimum.

How do these orders stack up with the words in his Bible: "Thou shalt not kill"? Should he, or would he follow those orders when it became a matter of kill or be killed?

As dusk rapidly approached, he sent messages to the company commander identifying what he believed to be the sound and smell coming from below. The chatter seemed to be a mixture of Korean and Chinese. The rattle of metal along with the smell of go-hung (Korean word for rice) that all soldiers had come to be familiar with as well as to hate, indicated meal time within their compound was at hand.

His orders were to "hang tight and stay your position, hold your fire after dark until you are certain that the slope below actually has enemy soldiers on it." Darkness came quickly as the already sub-zero temperatures fell even more.

The bone-chilling weather combined with less-than-proper winter clothing became increasingly more difficult to endure. The severe shivering and chattering of his teeth were the only measures of heat being generated by his body, as the temperatures dropped even more.

Some things seemed to be in his favor: he had secured a choice high spot to set up his machine gun with an excellent sweeping view of the slope below, and he had a good supply of ammunition. He felt certain that if an attack came during the night, and if he could persuade himself to perform, then there would be many poor Chinese and Korean mamma-sans who would receive government notice of their loving son’s demise.

In the dead of night his imagination and anxiety along with the intense sub-zero weather began to wear him down, depress and overcome him. He heard dull, muffled sounds first from one direction and then from another. He wondered, Was it real or imagined? He was well aware that for an enemy to make a frontal attack their first priority would be to silence the machine guns to keep their casualties down.

He tried to blank out his drill instructor’s words telling him that the average life span of a machine gunner under attack was less than three minutes. He was thinking about right, wrong and God more these days. The suspense mounted as he thought about home, warmth, plenty to eat and a loving family, a girlfriend that he may never see again.

A sudden flash in the sky, almost to his relief, ended the suspense jolting him to instant alertness. Chinese flares lit the sky as whistles and bugles began their nerve-shattering signals for attack, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

He instinctively had his finger on the trigger of the machine gun as he scanned the now-lit-up slope below. The first thing he discovered was that those muffled sounds were real—some of the enemy soldiers had slogged through nearly waist-deep snow to within a few yards of his position.

His immediate concern was, Will this gun fire or has it been just too cold? Often in extreme cold they will freeze up and malfunction. A pull on the trigger that sent a burst of .30 caliber anti-personnel lead down across the slope relieved that fear.

A good view of the slope now revealed a human wave, a large area of dark dots against the snowy background, darting here and there as they moved forward. As he began to rake the slope with a back and forth sweeping action with short bursts of fire he soon discerned that some of the dots were no longer moving. The die had been cast; there would be no turning back now. His priority, however, was to concentrate in closer. He couldn’t afford to let any of them come within hand-grenade range if he could stop them.

The battle raged on. In the morning, when the company commander sent out a patrol to assess the damage, they found the Arkansas boy soldier along with his assistant machine gunner dead. The boy soldier was draped in pieces over his gun, bone fragments, hair, brain matter, mangled insides and the blood-splattered snow was testimony to an almost direct hit from a Chinese artillery or mortar round.

The many dead enemy within his field of fire was an indication that he had accomplished his duty mission. In other words, he had earned the 11 cents an hour the government was paying him to follow Gen. Ridgeway’s orders.

A duty team scraped up the intermingled body fragments of the two casualties. The boy soldier’s remains filled a grocery bag, and in the same bag were some remains belonging to his assistant. They were sent to Japan to slosh around in a military body bag, decomposing among a heap of other rotting, stinking, mangled human flesh that had met the same fate as himself. The remains waited in a warehouse to be processed and shipped back to Arkansas to a grieving mother and family.

His mother would receive a letter from his company commander that he said was difficult to write, with his sincere, heartfelt condolences and a statement to the effect of how proud he had been to have had the brave, boy soldier serve under him. And further, how grateful the nation was to this soldier son for giving his young life for his country—for the just cause of freedom.

This scenario played itself out again and again up and down the front lines in Korea, as it did in the World Wars in Europe, as it did in the islands leading up to the invasion of Japan, as it did in Vietnam, as it has against all enemies of the United States, when young men and women are called on to defend our right to live as a free nation.

I was a machine gunner at that time with the Indianhead Division. I can attest to seeing such as I have described. I pass it on in my attempt to help you see more clearly the reality of war. And if one should think, I don’t want to hear these gory details, then let me remind you that neither have thousands of our young men and women who not only were forced to see it, hear it and experience it, they also had to live it, and die in it—giving up all of their tomorrows, for all of our todays.

Fifty years ago I was evacuated out of Korea, first to a MASH (Mobile Army Surgical Hospital) unit, then to a hospital in Osaka, Japan. Within a few weeks I ended up in Percy Jones Army Hospital, in Battle Creek, Michigan, where I spent the next year paying my share for the high cost of freedom. My feet had been frozen on the front lines in the mountains of Korea.

This July 4, 2001, I will spend a lot of time giving thanks to God that my life was spared in Korea, and that I have had 50 years of happy marriage with a good home, great kids and lots of wonderful grandchildren. I will spend some time remembering vividly the sightless eyes turned skyward on the faces of many comrades not as fortunate as I. I will spend some time giving thanks for the many who through the years have given their lives both in life and in death for the freedom that I, my family and this nation in general often take for granted. Above all I am grateful to the God of heaven and earth, for it is he who holds the destiny of this and every other nation in his hands.

If you would like to see wars end, let me encourage you to bow down before God and earnestly pray for him to quickly send his Son Jesus Christ back to earth to lead us in a proper manner—that men, women and even children will no longer go about slashing, shooting, starving, taking advantage of, killing, stealing and looting from their neighbors, committing horrendous sexual crimes that defy description. And as you pray, please remember that freedom is not free, except that which comes from God.

Through the years, many have wrestled with their spiritual convictions, such as Sgt. Alvin C. York, medal of honor winner and hero of World War I, who overcame conscientious objections and nearly singlehandedly silenced 30 machine guns against his battalion, shot and killed at least 25 Germans and took 132 German prisoners, including three officers. Imagine the number of American lives saved because of this one brave Christian soldier.

I am thankful for all men and women everywhere who have given their lives so that we might enjoy freedom. I would like to give a special thanks to all military Christians who have to weigh their decision whether to take a life, but in the grand finale are able to do their duty even if it means losing their own life in the process, as happened in the case of the boy soldier.

Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).

Copyright © Worldwide Church of God, 2001