Part Four: Aftermath

July 21, 2020 - It is another warm July day in Daejeon. The sound of apartment building construction is omnipresent in my area of the city.  Down below, people go about their daily business, wearing their masks even though the warnings about the latest COVID outbreak in the city have ramped down. An unspectacular Tuesday in the middle of the country during an average Korean summer (halfway through a very notable year).

Seventy years ago, on July 21, 1950, it was a far different scene.  Daejeon (then spelled Taejeon) was in ruins, smoldering after two days of intense urban fighting between the North Korean army and the United States' 24th Division.  Buildings and trees were flattened; streets were strewn with debris.

Beginning at 6 p.m. on July 20th, the 24th Division sounded general retreat and got out as best they could, fighting their way out via the escape route to the southeast.  The division had been mauled over the course of two weeks since the initial Battle of Osan on July 5th, and had suffered 3,600 casualties (about a third of its strength).  Roughly one third of that number were lost in Daejeon.  The casualties for the North Koreans are unknown, but have been calculated by some as roughly equal to this, with the additional loss of armor (again, mainly in the Daejeon battle).

This image of the ruins of Daejeon (taken on Sept. 30, 1950, after the city was liberated)
is part of a set of photos located in the Boston Globe.  With some effort,
you could try to align the mountains in the background with the modern landscape,
and pinpoint the area where the picture was taken.

The surviving elements of the 24th Division linked up with other American forces (who had arrived from Japan), went into reserve and rested, were reformed, and then fought on at the Busan perimeter.  For its delaying actions in and around the city, the soldiers of the 24th Infantry Division were awarded the Presidential Unit Citation and the Republic of Korea Presidential Unit Citation.  Daejeon would represent, in some ways, the high water mark for the North Koreans, who by the end of the same year, would be pushed all the way back to their northern border with China.

General William F. Dean, who had joined tank-hunter teams in the city, and had helped wounded soldiers on the way out, was just beginning his odyssey.  He was thrown from his jeep during a crash as he tried to leave, and became separated from his unit.  On foot, for the next 30 days, Dean hiked his way laboriously, with a broken shoulder, through the Korean landscape, attempting to get to Daegu.  He was captured on August 25th, having made it 35 miles south of Daejeon, and transferred to a North Korean prisoner camp for the remainder of the war.  His memoir details out his eventual capture, wrestled to the ground by an informant, as he tries to draw his pistol to engage his pursuers, truly Herculean in his efforts not to get captured.

William F. Dean colorized coin
(available on ebay!)

He was the highest-ranking officer to ever be made a prisoner by the North Koreans, and survived interrogations, but received relatively humane treatment after his identity was revealed, and the U.S. Army was aware of his being captured (until late in 1951, it was assumed he had been killed during the battle).  He was released on Sept. 4, 1953, and returned to a quiet life in San Francisco after a ticker-tape parade through New York City.

If ever a person's life was worthy of a movie, I think of General Dean, and am as impressed with his tale of survival after the battle (especially as I have come to know the steep hills and plunging valleys of the Korean hiking world), as with his battle exploits within the city.

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Daejeon the city spent two months under North Korean control before it was recaptured on September 28, 1950, shortly after the Incheon landings.  As the 24th Infantry Division once more entered the city, there was a report of yet another massacre, as the North Koreans executed 60 Americans in a prison area and a large number of South Koreans (civilians and soldiers) before retreating north.

Daejeon has only a few monuments to remind the casual resident of what took place 70 years ago, and has grown much since 1950, expanding outward, to the north toward the Guem River, and to the west toward Gyeryongsan Mountain.  But I can't help but notice, as I wander around, that there is a "newness" to the city, and that it is very difficult to find any significant clusters of old buildings (pre-1950), which makes me appreciate the fact of having to build a city anew from the rubble of war.  Those that survived, like the Japanese-constructed stone bank building in the market area, and the Dongchundang House, on the eastern fringes of the city, stick out like sore thumbs among the recently-constructed concrete apartment buildings and shops.

Mysterious photo of "victory parade" through Daejeon
(posted by a Korean pinterest user)

The same seems to apply to foliage, as one does not see many "older" trees in and about the city, and I wonder as I perambulate the mountains at the imprint of foxholes on the ridgelines and deep in the forest.  Are these left over from the battle long ago, or are they more recent additions from South Korean army training exercises?

One of the greatest mysteries is what happened to Daejeon during that two months it was occupied, and who was left in the city?  I understand that many of the residents had fled either before or during the battle to safer areas.  Did the North Koreans attempt to set up any sort of administration or did they kidnap people and bring them north?  I have found little to nothing about this, although the record of the massacre the week before the city was recaptured point toward bleak answers.  I have also found a fascinating YouTube video of a North Korean tour guide leading people through a "Battle of Taejon" display located in the Victorious Fatherland Liberation War Memorial.  For them, it one of their greatest victories of the war.  Be warned: the uniformed guide uses North Korean facts and statistics.

There are a few clues that do give an idea about the city at that time.  There is one unsubstantiated grainy photo of a "victory parade" through the city, mainly tanks and motorcycles driving past blasted buildings, and if it is an actual photograph, there is no one standing about to cheer them on.  There is also the unsettling report of the massacre in the prison, which indicates that the North Koreans did keep prisoners in town.  Finally, there are many photos of the famous "William F. Dean" tank, with graffiti spray-painted on it.  These were taken after the city was recaptured, which indicates that the North Koreans never bothered to retrieve or repair it, which indicates a level of inactivity in the city.  My educated guess is that the bulk of the North Korean forces headed toward the Busan perimeter, and that only the smallest of garrisons was kept in the city.  But it would be interesting to find out more information about this someday.

One of many images of the tank that Dean
helped to blow up with the graffiti on the side
of the turret.  More of them are located at this blog page.

There are other stories that remain.  I have read that the William F. Dean tank remained in the city, at some intersection in town (perhaps as a kind of monument in the midst of a roundabout), until the 1990's, when it was towed away for scrap.  This fascinates me, although I have yet to see any photographic proof of it, and I would think that somebody, somewhere in the city, would have a picture of that.  I also have heard rumors that a group of North Koreans held out in the Bumonsan Mountain area, and were killed, and buried there, but I have found no concrete evidence of that either.

Stories come and go of the battle long ago, and Daejeon moves on to the future.

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Yesterday, on July 20th, I rode the subway out to the City Hall area to note some specifics at the Battle of Daejeon Memorial.  The rain had let up, and I was done with my work for the day.

I looked carefully at the list of 818 names that had been etched in the stone at the corner of Boramae Park, and took some notes.  The men who fought in the city had come from 46 states (Alaska, Montana, Nevada, and Wyoming the only exceptions).  Washington, D.C., and the Virgin Islands were listed as well as three names under "Etc."  Pennsylvania seemed to have lost the most in the turmoil, as 73 names were listed under that state's name.  I thought about the crushing news reaching the families in each of those states, about the awful horror those men had experienced in the city, and how different things were now; how modern, peaceful and "normal" it all was.

Names on Stone

I looked at my phone and gasped as I noticed the time.  It was 6 p.m., the exact hour that final retreat had been called out of the city.  Here I was, the lone foreigner, 70 years later, standing before the monument at the final hour of the final day of battle.  I had to sit and compose myself a bit on one of the nearby benches, as a flood of emotions overwhelmed me.

I looked up and observed the scene around me.  A little girl, in bright pink pants, was chasing a pigeon, as her father and mother laughed, and took pictures of her.  A teenage boy had let his Pomeranian loose, and it bounded onto the roped-off grass, freed from its leash.  Business people, obviously relieved to be done with their work day, strolled along the dirt path, looking at their phones, and laughing and joking with each other, over the thrum of rush hour traffic in the distance.

I felt curiously part of everything, and yet alone.  Who was I to care for these men, and these events, which I had no real part in, and no family connection to?  A stranger who only by chance had moved into Daejeon in 2014.  

I couldn't quite will myself to leave, and so I sat a few more minutes.

I turned to look at the monument and suddenly noticed an older man, well-dressed, also off work, carrying a small umbrella, with his arms folded behind his back.  He was quietly reading the words on the front stone of the monument, reviewing the synopsis of the Battle of Daejeon.  He looked up, observed the other stones of the memorial, and then turned toward me, and started to walk away.  For the briefest moments, we glanced at each other, and I could sense a sort of sadness on his part, or perhaps just the wisdom of something he had forgotten and now remembered.

Another person, thankfully, had borne witness.

And with that, I was free to go.

Battle of Daejeon Memorial at Boramae Park

Part Three: The Faces of Battle

July 19, 1950 - Fighting battles within an urban environment is a decidedly difficult task within the already-chaotic tumult of war.  Soldiers must engage each other building to building, often fighting hand-to-hand.  Snipers are everywhere, and vehicles, usually the masters of the battlefield, are hemmed in and easy targets as they try to navigate clogged streets.

The Battle of Daejeon was no different, with the added discomfort of fighting during the middle of a particularly hot summer.  By July 19th, the North Korean forces had reached the outskirts of the city, and were coming in from all sides to engage with the American forces.

Time Magazine cover (Dec. 7, 1953)

Major General William F. Dean related his view of events to biographer William L. Worden during this period in his appropriately titled General Dean's Story (1954) which is available in its entirety via the 24th Infantry Division Association website.  In the chapter about Daejeon fittingly entitled "Men Against Tanks," Dean related:

On the night of July 19 I went to sleep to the sound of gunfire; and in the morning more gunfire knit a ragged and shrinking border around the city.  I am no longer a young man, and so I awoke very early, although I had been short of sleep for almost a month.  I heard the sound of the sporadic firing and inhaled the odors which no one ever escapes in Korea, of rice-paddy muck and mud walls, fertilizer and filth, and, mixed with them now, the acrid after-odor of cordite from the artillery, indefinable odors of thatch-roofed houses slowly burning.

General Dean is by far one of the most visible faces of the battle, the totemic reference point for the heroic stand by the soldiers of the 24th Infantry Division.  This is championed by the quiet presence of his statue on the slopes of Bomunsan Mountain in Daejeon, standing tall with a bazooka clamped to his shoulder.  It should be left to him to tell the story of that encounter with a tank, which he does later in that same chapter:

The bazooka man and I, moving very cautiously, entered a plastered room, about seven by eight feet.  I think Clarke was in the next room, and others behind us.  Quietly I slipped up beside the street window and looked around the side of it with one eye - directly into the muzzle of the tank's cannon, no more than a dozen feet away.  I could have spat down the barrel.  I signaled  to the bazooka man, who crept up beside me.  Then I pointed to spot just at the base of the cannon, where the turret and body of the tank joined.  The bazooka went off beside my ear.  Plaster cascaded from the ceiling onto our heads and around our shoulders.  Fumes from the blast filled the room, and concussion shook the whole building.  From the tank came the most horrible screaming I'd ever heard (although I did hear its equal later and under different circumstances), but the tank still was not on fire.  I didn't think I"m normally a brutal man, but I had just one idea.  I think I said "Hit them again!" and pointed to a spot on the other side of the turret.  The bazooka fired and more plaster cascaded, exposing the corn stalks to which most Korean plaster is stuck.  A third time the bazooka fired, and the screaming finally stopped.  Smoke rose from the tank.  It was very quiet in the street.

"The Fall of Taejon" (map from John Toland's
In Mortal Combat Korea, 1950-1953)

The memoir is quite interesting for this sense of sensory detail that Dean is able to provoke time and again, the bits and pieces of the Korean countryside, the plastered walls, and the awful sounds of battle, even in the midst of combat.

It also, in these details, depicts a rural, farming-based South Korea far different from the mechanized, technological landscape we have today.

Usually, Dean is lionized for his bravery under combat, and for staying inside the city even during the waning hours of the battle, directing fighting, and helping with wounded.  Like a commander of a sinking vessel, Dean chose only to leave during the final hours when he called for a retreat out of the city late on July 20th.

There are, however, some voices that question his leadership.  British Historian Max Hastings in his book The Korean War referred to him as "a big man of fifty-one with a reputation as something of a martinet," and in a 1985 interview with General John Michaelis (who commanded the 27th Infantry Regiment at the Busan perimeter) captured a feeling among some soldiers that "There was a sense of hysteria.  Nobody seemed to want to go and kick somebody in the butt. I never knew what Dean thought he was doing, as a divisional commander, to grab a bazooka and go off hunting tanks."

But in the end, Dean did seem to capture a sense of heroism that was sorely needed at this point in the Korean War, when the North Koreans were steadily driving south, and it looked like the Korean peninsula would be quickly overrun.  The tough stand had to begin somewhere, and in this instance, it began in the streets of Daejeon.

Statue titled Railway Workers: The Unsung Heroes
located in back of Daejeon Station

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But what of other faces of the Battle of Daejeon?

This is a most difficult task, even more so than finding the places of the battle, as we are reaching the end point of available first-hand witnesses to the battle.  The majority of these are the American soldiers, South Korean advisors, or civilian-residents, refugees from Daejeon who most likely retreated to safer quarters in the southeastern section of the peninsula.  The vast majority of these witnesses are in their 90's at this point in history.  And so we have to rely mainly on written sources and research.

Searching through the internet, one can find a face here or there of the ordinary soldier, who survived the battle.  One particularly intriguing story is of Lou Repko, a jeep driver who shipped over with the 24th Infantry Division from Japan, bore the brunt of the fighting in July, and whose likeness came to adorn the cover of LIFE magazine from the end of that month.  More than 50 years later, his picture was taken again holding the magazine, and he related in the online story on the website "Don Moore's War Tales" (which has over 900 stories) on how others in the photo weren't as lucky.  Such are the vicissitudes of battle.

Lou Repko and his LIFE magazine cover
from the Battle of Daejeon

Another storehouse of video accounts can be found at MyWarHistory YouTube page, including a first-hand account of infantrymen fighting T-34 tanks in Korea, relayed by Carl Cossin, who warned others to stay away from the blast of the bazooka, and to aim for the bogey wheel at the front of the treads.

There were only scattered units from the South Korean army, mainly soldiers and advisors helping out the American units (one of whom can be seen in the Repko photo) but the Korean railway played a major role in the battle, since Daejeon was and still is a major rail hub.

There is a very prominent statue of three railwaymen in the square behind Daejeon Train Station, and a plaque details out how 19,000 railwaymen participated in the larger conflict, risking their lives transporting military personnel and equipment.

Railway workers suffered the third highest casualty rate in the Korean War behind soldiers and policemen.  In one quiet corner of the National Cemetery in Daejeon, there are numerous displays in an air-conditioned railway car, as well as a video of railwaymen's exploits.

A plaque under the statue in Daejeon explains who the three men are:

The statue depicts three railroad workers that voluntarily put their lives on the mission to rescue US Army Major General William F. Dean, whom was missing from the Battle of Daejeon.  At the center is the Chief Engineer Kim Jae-hyun, who blows the steam whistle; on the left is Assistant Engineer Hwang Nam-ho holding a "train pass" - which was used as a permit for trains to enter a train station; and the right is Assistant Engineer Hyun Jae-young holding a shovel, which was used for shoveling coal for the engine.

Many of these names of these less famous men are lost to history, and it is interesting how everyone seems to fly around the orbit of the famous General Dean (Repko's story mentions Dean's actions during the battle as well).  The bazooka general was that omnipresent at the moment.

There is also, finally, the issue of the North Koreans.  They are often treated, in the historical accounts of the battle, as a unified mass, threatening and overwhelming all units on their way south to Busan, prone to massacre and savagery.

T-34/85 tanks - the mainstay of the North Korean
forces and a frightening presence
in the early stages of the war.

This image is perhaps bolstered by the myriad stories of the frightening North Korean bogeyman, the metal face of the "personage-monster," technically known as the T34/85 tank, the 27-ton mainstay of the North Korean invasion force.  The North Koreans had been gifted these from the Soviet Union (this tank was one of the main battle tanks for the Soviets in World War 2) and the DPRK invaded South Korea with 120 of them; at least 50 took part in the Battle of Daejeon.  Stories of the battles of June and July 1950 are rife with descriptions of obsolete bazooka rockets and howitzer artillery shells bouncing off the armor, allowing the North Koreans to roll south with relative ease.  In the urban setting of Daejeon, the buildings and access points of battle were able to negate this to some extent, as the story by Dean above has shown.  Around 20 of them were destroyed or disabled during the battle. 

The T34/85 maintained its dominance until the stalemate at the Pusan perimeter when it began to face some of the heavier tanks that had finally been shipped over by the Americans from Japan, such as the Pershing tank, and other allied heavy tanks, such as the British Centurion.

Unfortunately, there is little information available to us regarding individual leaders and combatants under the haze of North Korean censorship and propaganda. Lee Kwon-mu was one of the main commanders of the North Koreans during the drive south, and a very short Wikipedia page lists out his biography as well as his post-war accomplishments which turn out to be relatively few, as he all but disappeared from public life after a purge in the late 1950's by Kim Il-sung.  Perhaps sometime in the future, these stories from "the other side" will come more into light.

The Battle of Daejeon is coming to a climactic close.  What can we glean from the aftermath of this tumultuous chapter of the Korean War?

Part Two: Battleground

Battle of Daejeon Memorial (City Hall area)

July 17, 1950 - The defensive areas out by the Geum River at Gongju and Sejong have been largely overrun, although units are attempting a strategic retreat against the oncoming tide of North Korean tanks and infantry.  The city is beginning to feel the pressure.  The first part of the Battle of Daejeon is over.  The second is about to begin.

The American units in the city are more than aware that the North Koreans have largely breached the first defensive line and are in the process of surrounding the city from all sides.  But there is more unsettling news from the front lines north of town, just south of the Keum River.

On the evening of July 16th, on a mountain above the village of Tuman, around 20 unarmed, critically wounded soldiers, and Chaplain Herman G. Felhoelter, have been murdered by North Korean soldiers, specifically a patrol that had happened upon the group, as it was resting on a hillside. The attack, which has been titled (somewhat clinically) as the "Chaplain-Medic massacre" was witnessed from some distance away through binoculars by members of the 19th Infantry.  Felhoelter would be the first of a number of military chaplains to lose their lives in the conflict.

A 1954 government report detailing out numerous Korean War atrocities, included this exchange between Senator Charles E. Potter, and a firsthand witness, and the sole survivor, the regimental medical officer, Captain Linton J. Buttrey, who had been tending to the soldiers, and who managed to escape even after he had been shot in the ankle:

Potter: Was he marked as a chaplain with a white cross? 

Buttrey: Yes, sir; he was. 

Potter: What happened to him? 

Buttrey: He got killed, sir. 

Potter: What was he doing at the time he was killed?

Buttrey: He was administering last rites, extreme unction, to the patients.

Potter: He was administering the last rites to the patient, to a patient on a litter?

Buttrey: Yes. 

Potter: And how did they kill him?

Buttrey: He was shot in the back, sir. 

Hearing this alarming report, and knowing that they are being surrounded fills the soldiers with a grim sense of expectancy, the anticipation of the tough fight to come.  The troops in Daejeon are under no illusions about their role, which is to stand fast, fight the North Koreans as long as possible, and then escape at the last minute southeast on the road to Okcheon.

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It is challenging to piece together the "places" of the Battle of Daejeon.  We know, in general, where the battle occured, but finding the exact locations, the evidence of the struggle, requires a detective's skill and a historian's zeal for specificity.

I remember, for example, in October of 2019, walking along the Geum riverfront area between Daejeon and Sejong, and looking about, attempting to recreate in my mind's eye the possibilities of a battle long gone.  Where did the American defenses set up?  Were they digging in close to the river, or were they on an elevated ridge line further back?  How high was the river during that hot summer?

And what of evidence of battle?  Were there bullets, helmets, and shell casings still lying on the river bottom, waiting to be dredged into sunlight?  Has there ever been a thought to raise a sign somewhere along the riverside park area, which lines both sides of the river, marking the location of a battle from long ago?

On the north bank of the Keum River (North Korean forces location
at the beginning of the battle) looking toward Daejeon. 
Those buildings are all very recent, and both sides of the
river have seen intense construction during the last decade.

I come from a country, the United States, which has religiously zoned off and preserved battlefields, going all the way back to the Revolutionary War and Civil War periods, places like Gettysburg and Vicksburg.  You can walk acres and acres of these lands in 2020, and still see the landscape from the eyes of a ground-level soldier.  Gazing down from the heights atop Burnside's Bridge at Antietam, you can put yourself in the shoes of a Georgian soldier in 1862 firing his rifle, and then walk down the hill, cross Antietam Creek, and imagine charging with the 6th New Hampshire infantry as you rush the bridge.  This is tactile history.

Korea, for a variety of reasons, has this to a much lesser degree, but they do exist, especially for older battlefields from more ancient history (an example being Ugeumchi Battlefield in Gongju), but they aren't nearly as comprehensive.  Cities like Daejeon, with more sprawling, recent battles, have simply put up a few monuments and markers, leaving only a few scattered clues for military historians.  The rest waits to be filled in through diligent research by those who care.

Part of my understanding is how much things have changed over six decades.  Anyone who has lived in Korea can attest to the rapid rate of building, and change.  Sejong, the city to the north of the river, didn't even exist as a physical entity until 2012, and is still under construction.  The soldiers of 1950 faced a far different landscape when they fought their battles on this ground, less developed, fewer buildings, and over wider open terrain.  Whenever I access old newsreels from the Korean War, I see these differences clearly, even as I try to identify the familiar mountains that surround the city.

A view of Gongju and the Keum River, where the Battle of Daejeon began. 
North Koreans would have arrived on the newer north side of
the river to the left, while the U.S. soldiers would have been
in the old part of the city (south of the river) to the right.

Even Daejeon the city has changed dramatically, from a small city of 130,000 (1950) to almost 1.5 million (2019). The most intense fighting, at the end of the battle in 1950, occurred in the area in which I now live, in the southeastern older section of town between the Yudeungcheon and Daejeoncheon streams, where the train station and the central market, Eunhaengdong, call home.  Only last night, a fellow professor and I walked through the latter location, wondering at what lay buried beneath.  Where there any bones from the war paved over, lying under the cobblestones of the market area?

This city has grown much since the 1950's, practically rebuilding itself after the war, fostering myriad architectural and topographical changes.  The area where the City Hall now sits was the former site of the Taejeon Airfield, and was considered the western outskirts of Daejeon.  In 2020, that location is basically the center of this sprawling metropolis, and is now a thriving commercial and residential area.  The only reminders of the airport are a couple of jets which have been placed near the battle memorial. The sizeable reservoir on the east side of the city, and the Daecheong dam to the northeast, only became a reality in 1980.

Then there is always the matter of place name spellings over the years, as many of the Korean War era place names were spelled differently on U.S. Army maps (the preferred spelling of the time).  Daejeon was "Taejon."  Busan was "Pusan."  The Guem River was "Kum River."  This can add to the difficulty when one is googling for references and trying to align wartime maps with present reality.  Even in researching the July 16th massacre, I was getting nowhere on Google Maps until I zoomed in and located "Duman-ri" rather than "Tuman-ni."  

These are the complexities one faces when studying the Battle of Daejeon's locations 

The people and faces of the battle, including the looming visage of a general hefting a bazooka, will be examined as we moved forward in the battle.

The North Koreans are closing in, getting closer to Daejeon.  Who will etch their name into history in the days to come?

Part One: Prelude to the Battle

July 15, 1950 - It is the second day of the Battle of Daejeon, and things are already confusing.

North Koreans have been sighted on the other side of the Geum River, since yesterday really, and have already begun to cross.  The 24th Infantry Division, under the command of William F. Dean, are desperately attempting to hold them back.  Their overall mission: stop the enemy until the Busan perimeter can be solidified, ideally until July 20th.

During the month of July, North Korean forces
moved steadily through battle after battle to Daejeon

North Korea has made steady and painful progress since it invaded on June 25th.  It captured Seoul by the end of the month, and then began driving south after that.  Since July 5th, ten days ago, "Task Force Smith" (a smaller advanced group) has fought the North Koreans, and have been steadily driven back from Osan (the first major engagement between the North Koreans and the USA), Pyeongtaek, Cheonan, and Jochiwon.  The North Koreans have tanks, well-trained soldiers, and momentum.  The USA is, at this point, poorly armed and poorly prepared for this first Cold War conflict.

Daejeon, 144 kilometers (90 miles) directly south of Seoul, a major rail hub, is the last stand, the last big city before Daegu and the southeastern part of the country.

Things were already getting chaotic in the first few hours of the battle.  John Toland, in his comprehensive book, In Mortal Combat Korea, 1950-1953, describes the scene:

On the morning of July 14, Colonel Pappy Wadlington's 34th Regiment troops at Kongju heard more tanks on the north side of the Kum River.  Then L Company lookouts reported that North Korean soldiers were crossing the river on two barges downstream.  By nine-thirty some five hundred enemy had come across.  L's commander, Lieutenant Archie Smith, unable to to locate the machine-gun and mortar sections supporting him, ordered withdrawal and set out to find 3rd Battalion headquarters.  When he reported what he had done, he was relieved of his command.  By this time the entire left flank of the 34th Regiment had disappeared and the North Koreans poured into the hole.  Soon enemy infantrymen, supported by accurate mortar fire, overran the regimental artillery headquarters.

Can the 24th Infantry Division hold for five more days?

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I have been fascinated by the Battle of Daejeon since I first moved to the city in 2014, and began teaching at Woosong University.  I knew general aspects about it even before I had arrived, that it was a major battle early in the war, and kept my eyes open for any historical evidence of it.

The Statue of William F. Dean on
Bomunsan Mountain

It took a little over eight months after we had moved in before we discovered something about the Battle of Daejeon.  On that particular day, May 9th, 2015, my wife and I had begun a hike up nearby Bomunsan Mountain, when we sighted a plateau above the bandstand, and went to investigate.  It turned out to be an elaborate monument commemorating General Dean and a group of soldiers.  General Dean is standing tall, hoisting a bazooka on his shoulders; the group of soldiers behind him seem frozen in terror, yet resolute, facing down the unseen enemy.  Behind the statue, there was a description of the battle in English.

My investigations, which began in earnest that day, have continued to unearth bits and pieces over the last few years.  There is a UN monument in the same mountain area, and at least one other significant monument that marks the battle, near City Hall in the center of town.  In the western part of the city, in the national cemetery, there is a train car which elaborates on the railroaders' bravery during the Korean War, and in front of the train station, there is another statue which also marks the sacrifice of railroad personnel.  I love stumbling upon these historical markers, and even seek them out as I continue to live in Korea.  

This year, 2020, seemed especially significant, because it has been 70 years since the Korean War.  By the time July 14th rolled into fruition (the day is also my birthday), I had hit upon an idea to commemorate this history of the significant local battle, with a blog.

It will be a 4-part blog, posted every two days, during the exact length of the battle.  Each blog will have a focus.  This first blog post sets things up (the prelude).  The next, on July 17th, will focus on places; the third on July 19th, will focus on faces; and the final piece, on July 21st, will examine the aftermath.

I don't mean to come at this event only in the manner of a historian (although I consider myself adept in that arena and will speak to it), but rather as a writer/artist/traveler who is fascinated in the details of history and what we remember and even what we forget.  I will relate what I have found, and what I haven't found, in all my explorations.

As far as the Battle of Daejeon is concerned, it seems to be largely the latter, and this both fascinates and saddens me, when I consider the enormity of the event which largely destroyed the city.  There are reminders of it, but there is no significant city-wide event to mark this battle, and most people seem to be ignorant of it.  I am one of the few people I know who actively commemorates it every summer, often with a simple Facebook entry and pictures.

Time for a "tankfie" at the War Memoria

Last year, a fellow professor and I traveled an hour north to Seoul to the War Memorial in Korea, to ask about details and/or expertise about the Battle of Daejeon, but discovered that there hadn't been any significant research from the museum.  The librarian there told us that it was too early in the war, and that it had mainly involved American soldiers, so it was difficult to get information.  That was an illuminating moment to me.  Left unsaid was the idea that it was also a bad time during the conflict, a moment in history when everything seemed to be going badly for the South Koreans.  Why unearth defeat?

These first few months of the war are certainly dramatic, the slow retreat all the way to Daegu/Busan, as well as the hardfought efforts of this American military unit, Task Force Smith, attempting to stem that tide, with little more than the idea of "slowing things down."  I can't even begin to imagine being given that sacrificial assignment.  A lot happened in 1950, before the war settled into a stalemate for most of the four years, and like all war stories, there is nobility and bravery, suffering and cruelty.

And truth be told, I have a "home" interest in this battle, as Daejeon (the Dirty D) is the only city that I have lived in South Korea.  This city in which I reside is built on the bones of this battle (to some degree), and I wonder a lot about that as I wander.  I want to know more about the places where it occurred, the people who took part, and the lessons taught by history.

And so it is for these reasons, that I have decided to blog about this, three more times, until the battle is over.  I will write the facts I know, the feelings I have, and the thoughts that occur to me along the way.  The deadline is ticking, the battle has begun, and I am ready to face the enemy.

I hope you will be brave enough to join me.