Shamballa, has been on a state of high alert for the past 96 hours. The man sitting across from me was a 20 year old Sergeant during the original Korean war at the time of armistice and after two decades in the military, became one of the top figures in the Agency in regards to Indo-China human intelligence, for over 30 years retired in 2002, but has been brought out of retirement due to the extraordinary events of the past week. Odin sent him here for a brainstorming session from Langely where he has been working with folks 1/3 his age for the past 24 hours.

I shake his hand and offer him a seat. His features are well worn and liver-spots make clear his advanced age. Fortunately, his eyes are still alert and he seems more the happy oldster than the grumpy one. A slight smile is constantly set upon his features as if someone has told a joke only he is privy to.

"Welcome to Shamballa Mr. Director! As you see one can never truly leave the Agency, even when safely retired."

"That's former director. Serving one's country is a privilege and an honor. I'm now just a retired old man. I just hope my experience can still be of use. So far, believe it or not, no one I've worked with has even been to Korea, much less fought against the North Korean communists."

"Odin wanted me to hear you out, get a little of your experience under my belt so I can put the present into a better context with the past. In other words, I guess you're here to tell me stories from your experiences in Korea, if you wouldn't mind."

"Mind? Hell, getting an old guy like me to stop telling stories is the difficult part. I've got lots of stories funny stories, tragic stories and stories you'll never forget as long as you live. What would you like to start with?"

"Anywhere is fine."

"Okay. Anywhere it is. Well Korea was about as close to hell on Earth as you can possibly imagine. The men from our side who went there were young and had everything to live for - in fact, the US soldiers' problem is that he has too much to live for when compared to any other soldier in the world.

I was in Panmunjom, when the armistice was signed. The reds had quickly built a truce building, and had stuck two abstract white doves above it. It was corny and looked ridiculous. Mark Clark, the UN Commandant demanded they take them down and they did, under protest. It was hot as hell even though it was still morning, sort of like it is out here, but it was a wet heat and sweat would drip off one in buckets. No one was happy. Everyone was resigned to making the best out of a bad situation. General Nam il came in to the pogoda, over-manicured like a putting green, just like Kim Jung il is today and signed the UN-Communist armistice. Lt. General Harrison signed it for our side and got the hell out of there as soon as possible. He was not happy at all.
I was angry, happy and sad all at the same time. It was not a victory, it was a defeat and it was a respite for the men who fought like hell against the communists. Now, here we are, fifty three years later and the respite is almost over."

"Well, I don't think we'll be waging a ground war again anytime soon...do you?"

"I don't know. I know we lost 25,000 boys and men fighting the communists already. Tactical solutions wont keep their army from marching for Seoul. The South Koreans I've spoken to know this and also know their army and the US deterrant force isn't near enough to stop them from rolling over Seoul the same way Saddam rolled over Kuwait. The South Koreans are now in the same boat as the US soldier - they have far too much to live for and their communist counterpart does not. Let me tell you another story.

One man in my company had just gotten a letter from his wife, a new kid was on the way. Not more than a minute later he was killed, blown up by a red mortar. A medic threw himself in the way between a patient and a grenade. He knew it would kill him, but his patient had a family back home and he knew this. One private, crazy as hell, wouldn't give up his hole to the advancing red Chinese. He would go after incoming red grenades and throw them back. Like I said, crazy. He must've been doing this for two minutes. It was a miracle he managed to get ten or more grenades thrown back at the enemy and then one got him. He died a hero. A crazy hero, but there we're all sorts of heroes back then.

One corporal had four bullets in his chest and he was still going. "Take a stretcher!" he was told. He disobeyed. "Yeah!" he replied. "Send four guys after me and they'll all get clobbered. I'll make it." He did make it. He walked through a hail of bullets and put a grenade and himself into a busy red foxhole.

It was hell on Earth. And the South Korean kids would tear you up inside. They were everywhere and were desperate mud-caked urchins. I can still hear them as if they were in the room here, "Hey sah-jint, you want buy?" or "Hey sah-jint you want number one shoe-shine? Oh maybe you want nice girl sah-jint, numbah one nice virgin girl?" They would steal whatever they could grab from you. Pens, wallets, whatever. But those kids had nothing. Absolutely nothing. The crippled ones would crawl in your path and claw at your trousers, "Money skoshi money, little money-three days eat have no, sah-jint. That was the worst part. So many suffering and there was so little one could do. Now South Korea is a paradise, paid for in blood - but all that can change quick. But you want stories, here's a story about a brave South Korean.

A 'papa-san' of the Korean Service Corps, with a small bushy beard and probably pushing sixty would 'choogie' ammunition up the hill to the younger soldiers. He caught a bullet and marched back down to pick up some more ammunition for the mortar crew. He kept doing this, and each time the mortar fired he would utter a word. We didn't understand what is was until later when we asked some others. Do you know what that word was? It was 'Freedom'. He died with that word on his lips as we fired the last mortar shell he brought up."

I watch as the man in front of me breaks down and cries. I start tearing up myself.

"Sorry. That one always got me and still does."

After another hour of stories and ideas, I thank him for providing me with a window to those times.

"My pleasure. The past is only valuable, if folks remember it."

I walk him back to his plane and watch as it takes flight and curves east for the flight back home.

"Freedom" I say the word aloud again just to hear it. That's what all this is about. Freedom for Iraqis, freedom for Afghanis, freedom for Koreans. If ever the USA needs a new name, "Freedom Nation" is even better suited to what this nation is all about.

"Freedom."

I feel the presence of the old Korean papa-san as the sun starts setting and the desert winds carry the first fall chill of the season.

The winds must sense it too and they echo the word, "F r e e e e e - d o m m m m."


Dedicated to ------. SDAI-Tech1 2006