Maybe, maybe not
Korean War vets mix curiosity, wariness in run-up to Trump summit with Kim Jong Un
Forgive them if they’re skeptical, but some local Korean War veterans who fought to repel the Communist invasion from the north almost seven decades ago are wary about Tuesday’s summit. They have watched with interest the back-and-forth between President Donald Trump and North Korean leader Kim Jong Un for the last year and they plan to follow what happens when the two meet in Singapore.
They’re optimistic, but wary.
“Of course, I’m hopeful, and yes, I guess I’m surprised,” said Don Rust, who was among the 1st Marine Division casualties at the Battle of Inchon. “It certainly seems like a rather sudden turn of events for North Korea to be willing to even talk about eliminating their nuclear weapons.”
The 91-year-old Waukesha man doesn’t think Kim actually will give up those nuclear weapons, though. Kim was born into power, almost royalty, Rust noted, and he’s not likely to take a step back.
“The only reason it appears to me that they’re willing to step up and do any talking at all is because our sanctions must be creating a huge amount of pressure,” Rust said.
Glenn Dohrmann served two years in Korea with occupation forces following World War II, leaving in January 1949. He could see the animosity between North and South Korean troops and he was sure war would likely come soon. It did, in June 1950. Dorhmann returned to Korea in February 1951 with the Army’s 1st Cavalry Division.
Dohrmann has watched as North Korea was ruled by a succession of dictators — Kim’s father and grandfather — who starved their people, refused to allow them to leave and cut off practically all outside influence.
“It’s amazing how they have been able to keep those people subdued for so long. (Kim Jong Un) was so tough he killed his own (uncle.) Things needed to change and I think it may be coming to that,” said Dohrmann, 91, who lives in Cedarburg.
Suspicious of intentions
Ron Ziolecki was 18 when he ended up in Korea in 1951 as one of many replacements for the depleted 1st Marine Division. The division endured heavy casualties fighting Chinese and North Korean troops. He joined the Marines after dropping out of West Allis High School in 1949. Had he known he would end up in Korea, he would have stayed in school, Ziolecki said.
Ziolecki is suspicious of the North Koreans’ intentions.
“I don’t know if we can trust the North Koreans. It’s a good thing to get the two countries together but I don’t know if we can trust this gentleman,” said Ziolecki, 85, who lives in Milwaukee. “I don’t know if I should call him a gentleman.”
In February 1952, Ziolecki and his buddy Ross Hartwig were in a foxhole when Hartwig asked if they should flip a coin to see who would go first to the chow tent for a hot meal. Ziolecki wasn’t as hungry and told Hartwig to go first.
Moments after Hartwig left their foxhole to eat, Ziolecki heard artillery rounds landing behind him, demolishing the chow tent. Hartwig died two days later.
Earlier, Hartwig had told his friend about his newborn daughter back home in Iowa. In 2014, Ziolecki tracked down Hartwig’s then-63-year-old daughter in Iowa. They have since become close. They call and email each other, and on Veterans Day, Ziolecki wrote Hartwig’s daughter a note to tell her he’ll never forget her dad.
So for Ziolecki, the Korean War is not a documentary film or pages in a history book, it’s part of his life. And he was surprised that this many years later the Korean War has not officially ended.
It’s possible an official end to the war will be discussed during the summit this week.
“That would be a good idea. End it. Get it over with. Let those people be free. Let them go wherever they want to go,” said Ziolecki.
Rust, too, said it would be nice if the war officially ended.
“But in truth, I wonder if it changes anything. I don’t think it will,” Rust said. “Simply suddenly declaring the war over doesn’t really change any of the political or economic conditions that exist between North and South Korea.”
Dramatic changes
Don Schrock, 88, was a special forces soldier in Korea with the 25th Army Infantry. He had joined the Michigan National Guard before the war started and, like Ziolecki, had he known another war would start so soon after World War II, he never would have joined the military.
The Waukesha man earned two Purple Hearts, two Bronze Stars, a Silver Star and the Distinguished Service Cross, the second highest medal for valor. He saw and experienced incredible cruelty and violence. His best friend was decapitated by a mortar round and his head ended up in Schrock’s lap.
Schrock was wounded by an artillery round that left shrapnel in his side and legs. When he recovered and returned to the front lines, he was shot twice on Heartbreak Ridge.
When he regained consciousness, “next thing I knew I felt something pressing against my head. It was a rifle,” recalled Schrock.
The rifle was carried by an enemy soldier and Schrock and other Americans were taken prisoner, driven to Manchuria and held captive for months. He said he was hung by his feet and hit with rubber hoses as Chinese troops tried to learn information from him. Once the cease-fire was signed, he was released with other POWs. By then, Schrock’s weight had dropped to 90 pounds.
“I wouldn’t trust (Kim Jong Un). I wouldn’t trust that guy,” said Schrock.
Dohrmann and Rust have returned to South Korea where they were treated as heroes. Both were amazed to see how much South Korea had changed from a poor country of dirt roads and thatchroofed houses when they first visited to a now gleaming, modernized state.
Dohrmann knows enemies are created in wars, but he never hated the Chinese or North Korean troops who killed his fellow Marines and tried to kill him. His platoon captured 28 enemy soldiers, instead of killing them, during the 81⁄2 months he was on the front lines.
On a denuded mountain called Old Baldy, Dohrmann’s part in the war ended when he was wounded three times in one day, suffering severe injuries to his arms, neck and shoulders. When he visited with his grandson in 2003 during the 50th anniversary of the end of the fighting, Dohrmann visited the DMZ and could see Old Baldy off in the distance. By then it was filled with trees and looked totally different.
As he was driven from the airport, Dorhmann couldn’t help noticing the six-lane highway and modern buildings.
“It was an amazing thing. I expected it because I kept in touch with what was happening in South Korea,” said Dohrmann. “Then you think ‘Gosh darn, I had a little bit to do with this.’ Which was a good feeling.”