gray06 Nov-Dec 2009_Gray01_Jan-Feb 2005.qxd.qxd - Korean War ...

My life at K-13
By Howard V. Alston
As I read an old issue of The
Graybeards (Nov/Dec 05, p. 52), I
became very excited. In it was an article
about K-13, Suwon, Korea. I was stationed
at K-13, and worked out of the
Dispatch Office. I was assigned to the 8th
Ftr Wing from August 1951 to August
1952. I am now a Chief Master Sgt (Ret).
The article got me to thinking about
some of the “good old days,” and some of
the oddball times. Here are a few of my
remembrances.
I go for communion, not coffee
My “boss” was a T/Sgt from some
southern state. I was a 20-year-old buck
sergeant from Salt Lake City, UT. The
T/Sgt could recite military orders and
specs backwards and sideways. But, he
had very little knowledge about people in
general.
One day I asked for time off to go to
mass. He told me that I couldn’t go.
“Like hell I can’t go to mass,” I said.
“But you are from Salt Lake City,” he
responded. “There are only Mormons
there—no Catholics.”
I informed the T/Sgt that there were a
few “Unbelievers” like me living in
Utah, after which I left for mass.
On the way to church, I bent down to
GRANDCHILD DRAWING TICKET
tie my shoelace. I looked behind me—
and I discovered that the son-of-a-gun
was following me! The sergeant thought
I was lying about going to church. He
wanted to make sure I went to the chapel,
not to the Red Cross shack for coffee and
donuts.
Saving my sinful soul
I went on R&R. Being the pious person
I was, I made a bee-line for confession
right after the plane landed. After
all, I had to save my sinful soul.
I stood in line to await my turn in the
confessional. When I sat down the priest
said to me, “My son, just a minute. Did
you just get off that R&R plane that landed?”
“Yes, I did,” I admitted.
“Oh, my Lord,” he said. “Here we go
again.”
I wasn’t sure where we were going,
but I did know it was the only time I ever
heard a priest get excited in the confessional.
“You fellows all say the same thing,”
the priest informed me. “And, I say the
same thing to you. I am missing out on a
lot of good drinking time at the Officers
Club.”
That chaplain was a 6’4,” 250-pound
Major, with freckles and red hair. He was
a good Irishman—and one heck of a
Get Your DD214 On Line At:
http://vetrecs.archives.gov/
I wish to have my name entered into the drawing to send one of my grandchildren to
Korea. My grandchild has a passport now.
Name of veteran: ______________________________________________________
Membership Number: __________________________________________________
Phone Number: ______________________________________________________
My grandchild has a Passport now. (Check one) r Yes r No
A Passport is being obtained. (Check one) r Yes r No
You may copy this form, or one from the website, and send it to arrive by March 13,
2010 to the following address:
Membership Office, P O Box 407, Charleston, IL 61920-0407
good priest. I think he could have been a
fullback on the Notre Dame football
team.
A spy in our midst
We had a Korean man who cleaned up
around the office, made coffee, emptied
the trash, etc. He was older than all of us,
but we still called him “Boy-san.” We
didn’t know any better.
One day he failed to show up for
work. We all wondered why. He
remained missing for 2-3 days, so we
asked the ROK policemen if they had
seen “Boy-san.”
“Oh, yes,” they said. “We have him
tied up at the police HQ downtown.”
Our clean-up man was a North Korean
spy who got caught. He would check our
files and garbage and pass the information
on what he found and what we were
doing to his North Korean friends. Being
young, dumb, and happy, we never
thought we would be that close to the
North Koreans. We all clamped down on
security after that.
We learn that the color of
one’s skin does not matter
It is amazing how “time” will bleach
out a person’s skin color—and perceptions.
We replacements had heard about the
fellows dating and marrying Japanese
and Korean girls.
“How gross,” we said. “Not me! Not
this kid.”
Those feelings did not last long. After
6-7 weeks, and going on R&R, we
changed our perceptions of the Japanese
and Korean girls. We looked at them differently—and
enjoyed dancing with
them. They were excellent dancers. More
importantly, they helped us grow up.
In retrospect, I grew up quite a bit during
my stint in the Far East.
Howard V. Alston, 1900 W Quinn Rd #4,
Pocatello, ID 83202-2823
(208) 237-2038
Buglers Across America
www.BuglersAcrossAmerica.org
17
The Graybeards
November – December 2009