Face of the Enemy
by
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The first rays of the morning sun began to peek through the saddles of the mountains to the east, illuminating the top of the ridge. Cho and his patrol had approached the enemy position from the right, walking along in a crouch, assuming as low a profile as possible in an attempt to keep out of viewing range of the OP bunker. If they were spotted, he knew that a rain of fire would soon fall on them. His men were strung out in a V-formation behind him. Cho’s finger caressed the trigger of his weapon, its magazine fully loaded. He could make out the trench line atop the hill now, running to the right and left of the main bunker in the center, along a natural spur that sloped downward a hundred meters or so onto the basin floor and the streambed of the Yokkok River. Cho dropped to one knee and signaled his patrol do likewise. It was very still. Surely, he thought, they would have been spotted by now. But there was no enemy activity. He was less than twenty meters from the trench and he realized to his amazement that it was empty. There should have been ROKs manning the trench. He crawled slowly toward the edge, his weapon out in front of him, ready for instant use. Peering cautiously over the top into the trench he saw that it was clear in both directions and rolled over into it, quickly landing upright in a crouched position, whipping the burp gun to the right and left. Still no enemy greeted his arrival. He stalked up the trench towards the bunker at the top, fifteen or twenty meters away. It was a big bunker, well-fortified Cho observed with a roof that looked as if it could withstand a direct hit. An American GI’s s poncho was hung over the entrance. Cho pulled a concussion grenade from his belt and was about to pull the pin and toss it into the bunker when he saw him. He was just standing there, a few feet away, on the other side of the bunker entrance, staring out into the valley, completely oblivious to Cho’s approach up the trench. He was not carrying a rifle, but the Chinese noticed he was wearing a sidearm. Although his back was turned slightly to Cho, he knew that it was an American. He was too tall for a Korean. Probably one of the American observers from the OP bunker, Cho thought, or perhaps one of the American advisors. Maybe he’s an officer, Cho smiled. He remembered that officers generally wore sidearms. But what was he doing here alone? Wasn’t he aware that there were no South Koreans on the hill? He appeared to be in a daze, staring off into space. What a prize, Cho thought, if he brought him back as a prisoner. Carefully placing the grenade on a sandbag next to the trench, Cho raised his weapon so that it was pointed directly at the American’s back. If he turned and made a move for his pistol, Cho knew that he would have to kill him. He waited for the American to react.
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Face of the Enemy
About the Author
William Russell served as an U. S. Army combat correspondent in Korea from 1951-53, receiving the Bronze Star Medal for his frontline reporting and for accompanying a mission behind enemy lines during the battle for White Horse Mountain in 1952. A graduate of Stetson University in Florida, he worked as a public relations specialist in the private sector and a government public affairs officer in Washington, D.C. before retiring in 1989. He is the author of Ten Days at White Horse (1988) and Stalemate & Standoff: The Bloody Outpost War (1993). He lives in Florida where he also publishes a newsletter about Civil War battle reenactments.