It has been exactly two months since that day. I still could not brush off my mind the catastrophic series of events that removed me from a comfortable officers' quarters on the Seoul to the grit and mud here. The stagnant rations, the termite-bitten excuse of a toothbrush, and the sweat-moistened cakes of grime on the back of my neck really tells me how years of privilege as an academy graduate made me a spoiled brat, unfit for the rigors of combat as a true soldier.
The trenches around the Busan perimeter are muddy, sweltering, and reeking of bloodied bodies. The odor of dead bodies tortures me the worst here; officers like me can occasionally have soju instead of the sour coffee, rainstorms can handily wash off the grime on my skin, and the Reds at least have the courtesy to hold the mortar fires on the weekends. But it is not like if dead soldiers withhold their rotting stenches on the weekends, nor can anyone dare risk enemy fire to pick them up and give them peace.
Only one word, “retreat”, is sufficient in describing what happened from June 25 to now. Even the Americans alongside us retreated, though I did hear of incoming reinforcements from the United Nations. I wish I could write more of this bleak situation, but paper is running thin at the front, and I actually feel lucky to take possession of a few sheets. The Americans and us are holding off the best we can, but for how long can our sanity last in this futile scape, let alone our skins and bones?
The trenches around the Busan perimeter are muddy, sweltering, and reeking of bloodied bodies. The odor of dead bodies tortures me the worst here; officers like me can occasionally have soju instead of the sour coffee, rainstorms can handily wash off the grime on my skin, and the Reds at least have the courtesy to hold the mortar fires on the weekends. But it is not like if dead soldiers withhold their rotting stenches on the weekends, nor can anyone dare risk enemy fire to pick them up and give them peace.
Only one word, “retreat”, is sufficient in describing what happened from June 25 to now. Even the Americans alongside us retreated, though I did hear of incoming reinforcements from the United Nations. I wish I could write more of this bleak situation, but paper is running thin at the front, and I actually feel lucky to take possession of a few sheets. The Americans and us are holding off the best we can, but for how long can our sanity last in this futile scape, let alone our skins and bones?
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