Living with a lifetime of horrors

They met at M.J. Oss' condo in Bellevue, these three Marine Corps friends in their 70s with shared memories. When one of them talked about barely being able to sleep four hours a night, they all nodded.

As they get older, the images and emotions keep increasing, not decreasing.

Every day, the Korean War is with them, especially the subzero winter of 1950, when these Marines had been sent to the Chosin Reservoir, deep in what is now North Korea, in what would be described by American Heritage magazine as "a campaign as grueling and heroic as any in history."

They regularly suffer from numbness in their hands and pain in their feet — results of frostbite they incurred in Korea. They are reminded of those days when one of them now drops some nails because he has no feelings at the tips of his fingers, or when the skin of another's fingers splits apart in the winter.

Tomorrow, as they've done every July 27 for the past decade, they will drive to Olympia, and at 11 in the morning, lay a wreath at the Korean War Veterans Memorial on the Capitol campus.

"I don't care if three show up, I'll be there," said Al Rasmussen, 74, of Tacoma. He knows that most Americans know little about what has been called "the forgotten war." He knows that most Americans don't know that tomorrow is the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Korean War armistice.

Rasmussen likes to wear a beaded pendant designed by an Indian. The pendant says "Chosin Few Korea Nov 1950 Dec." Sometimes a curious person asks what it means. He tells them briefly about the campaign. He tells them that the Chosin Few is a national group of these vets.

The Northwest chapter was founded in 1988, with about 150 members. Now there are 75. Time is catching up with them. In 2000, there were 91,000 Korean vets in this state. Now there are 78,000.

Rasmussen said people listen to his short history and usually say, "Oh, that's interesting."

A more accurate description is that it was horrific.

Idealistic teens

They were all idealistic local kids who joined up right after high-school graduation.

Oss, 75, graduated from West Seattle High in 1945 and joined the Marines, served a year, and then joined the reserves. It was as a reservist that he was called up for the Korean War. It was officially known as a "police action."

Oss found himself at the Chosin Reservoir as an infantryman. About 19,000 U.S. troops were there, including some 15,000 Marines.

What they did not expect was that in the mountains there were 120,000 Chinese soldiers who began an assault on the Americans.

At night, the temperature was routinely 20 degrees below zero; sometimes it dropped to 40 degrees below.

"The cans of food were frozen. You'd eat what you could, especially beans. They were easier to eat. The water in the canteens would freeze up overnight. You'd shake it to try and get some action," Oss said.

"We only slept a couple of hours a night. We had no tents. If we could find a hole, you'd lay down your sleeping bag. Most of the time, our boots were wet and so were the socks. We couldn't have fires up there to give away our position. Usually we had two pairs of socks, and you'd put one up against your belly hoping to dry it out, but it never dried out for me."

A soldier couldn't just lay down to sleep for any length of time. First, he was pumped up with adrenaline, waiting for the next attack. But besides the warfare, if it got cold enough, his blood could freeze, if not his sweat. Soldiers were found dead in their frozen sweat.

Oss remembers seeing dead Chinese soldiers with their legs black up to their knees because of gangrene from the frostbite. He remembered later being in the hospital for frostbite treatment, and three beds away, a soldier taking off a sock and a toe also coming off.

Max Diamond, 77, graduated from Auburn High School in 1943 and joined the Marines. He was part of the landing at Iwo Jima, and after World War II went into the reserves. He was called up for Korea and ended up as an artillery radioman.

The allies were in full withdrawal, the Chinese attacking without pause. Their only way out was on a narrow gravel road to Hungnam, where allied ships awaited. Straggling along with them were tens of thousands of Korean refugees, who sometimes got caught in the crossfire.

The American troops tried to bring out all their dead, strapped to trucks, but there wasn't space for all.

"We had to bury some in mass graves," Diamond said, something that caused great anguish for the Marines because they pride themselves on bringing out their dead.

According to Dr. Murray Raskind, director of mental-health services for Veterans Affairs in Puget Sound, these symptoms may increase with age. As people get older, the body naturally releases more adrenaline compounds, which may increase the frequency of such thoughts. All three of these vets attend post-traumatic stress disorder group sessions run by Veteran Affairs.

For Rasmussen, a Franklin High graduate who joined the reserves and ended up in a heavy-machine-gun platoon, there are some "videotapes" he keeps replaying in his mind.

In one, he's in a foxhole and the Chinese are running down the hill. His machine gun was pointed in the wrong direction. By the time he managed to turn it around, 30 to 60 seconds had elapsed. He keeps thinking about the six Marines who were killed down below the foxhole.

"I was alone. It happened so fast. I didn't have time to think," he said. He thinks about the what-ifs, but the tape keeps playing.

The three Marines came out of the war without major physical injuries, except for the frostbite. That's something else that comes up in those night thoughts. Why did others die and not them?

About 2,400 U.S. and allied troops died and 10,000 were wounded at the Battle of Chosin, according to one estimate. (There are conflicting estimates.) The Chinese suffered much more, with 40,000 killed or wounded.

The men in the Chosin Few are proud of their role, even if so few know. "We did our job well," said Oss. "We know."

Erik Lacitis: 206-464-2237 or elacitis@seattletimes.com