Hero or Traitor?
Ellen Lynn
It was a dark dreary day, windy and rain, as a group of us parachutists waited at the edge of the airfield, in a desolate part of a Korean battlefield. Our very secret mission was a dangerous one and the weather added to the general atmosphere of gloom.
A
helicopter was to pick us up here and drop us over a prison camp in
North Korea. If we were lucky, we would destroy that new red
underground depot, find Tod Lessing, rescue him and bring him back to
safety or maybe kill him. But there were many questions in our minds:
Was he really held near that particular dump? The supposition that he
was there was based on a hunch. Was Capt. Lessing the great hero we
all worshiped, or was he a traitor, a renegade?
In
spite of our doubts and questionings about Lessing we all were
anxious to get started on our mission. And I, for one, had been Tod's
closest buddy since we came to Korea. We had been G.I.s together and
I knew him from the beginning. I had been witness to many of his acts
of heroism. Many of us owed our lives to his courage and presence of
mind under fire. I for one couldn't believe that my friend Tod
Lessing had turned traitor—even though I heard his own voice making
that startling admission over the radio.
It
goes back six months. Our forces had cross the thirty-eighth parallel
and we were fighting in North Korea. Tod's acts of heroism had won
him numerous decorations and promotions to the rank of Captain. He
was the hero type and he had been given a merited build up. He was
football hero—then division boxing champ—then front line hero.
His name and fame were known to every G.I. and every Red. The army
set him up as an example to be emulated. Even the American press
added to the build up. If any guy deserved it, Lessing did. There was
a quality in him that made the men adore him—hero-worship him.
One
day, when we were north of the thirty-eighth, in the midst of the
constant fighting, the muddy marches, the blood, pain and utter
weariness, Tod got a shoulder wound. He was sent back to the
hospital, which meant he would see his girl, Carol Trent. She was a
Wac driver—sometimes for the hospital, sometimes for the big brass.
They had met in Korea and fallen in love. So when Tod was
hospitalized they had a chance to see each other every day. It was
during this time they made their decision to get married. As soon as
Tod was able to leave the hospital he asked and got permission to
marry. They went to the chaplain who performed the ceremony. I stood
up for Tod. There was something almost sad about the meager happiness
these two young people grasped for themselves in between the grim
episodes of war. In the traditional custom a bunch of us threw rice
at the happy couple as they hurried into the waiting jeep which was
to take them on their honeymoon.
Tod
and Carol were gone for two weeks. When they returned they were
bubbling over with descriptions of the beautiful country they had
traveled through—in North Korea where we then were. But the day
after their return Tod was saying good-bye to his bride as each
returned to their outfits.
The
times that Tod spent with Carol were pitifully few, when the Allied
forces began to suffer severe blows. The Red Koreans were pushing us
back rapidly toward the thirty-eighth parallel. They had acquired
amazing strength in equipment and fresh forces and our troops were so
overwhelmingly outnumbered there was nothing to do but yield ground
and move back, back whence we came. The Reds had built a secret
underground tank depot near our lines. It was wreaking havoc on us.
It had to be located and knocked out by hand—by parachutists. Tod
volunteered to find and destroy it. He took a squad behind the Red
lines. He never came back—nor did any of his men. The Reds boasted
they had our famous war-hero, Tod Lessing.
It
was a cruel blow to Carol. I'll never forget her face as she got the
news. All the blood seemed to drain from it, leaving her alabaster
white. Her eyes looked like two black pools, as they misted over, and
she ran quickly to her quarters.
The
beating our troops was taking put a spell of gloom over all of us.
More and more men were being captured by the Reds. But the thought of
Tod stuck in our minds. It was especially hard to think of a man of
his courage and strength being held captive in a Red prison camp. And
the sight of Carol's set features as she went about her tasks, or
waited for news concerning P.W.s, kept us from forgetting the great
war hero, Tod Lessing.
I
was stretched out on my bed one day, in sheer exhaustion, when
something on the radio caught my attention. My body went rigid as a
familiar voice came clearly through the transmitter. Was I dreaming?
It sounded like Tod! I sat up and saw that the other men were
listening just as intently as I. We exchanged mute glances and
continued to listen.
"...and
so, friends, buddies, I can only say that I fought hard to win for
our cause, as you well know. That was because I knew only one side of
the controversy—our side. I knew only what our Democracy would let
me know. In the six months I've been in this prison camp, I've
learned a lot... the other side of the question. You will be startled
to hear me say that in comparison with the democratic way of life,
this Communist prison camp is like a honeymoon. You will be shocked
at first, and angry, that I, an American officer should speak so
glowingly of our enemy's way of life. But I have learned a lot, and I
am not given to rash statements, nor snap judgments. Any of you who
is lucky enough to be taken prisoner..."
Someone
snapped off the radio. Then there was an explosion, like
firecrackers, from all parts of the barracks. In the only language in
which soldiers can let off steam, they started to give vent to their
disgust at what they heard Tod spouting over the radio. As for me, I
was completely confused. There was no doubt about it—it was the
great hero Tod talking. It was his typical quiet, matter-of-fact
style of speech. And there was such conviction, such sincerity in his
tone!
I
decided to get dressed and look up Carol. I had to find out if she
had heard the broadcast by Tod. It was evening before I could get
over and I had to wait sometime before she came out. Apparently some
big brass was in there having a conference with her. Suddenly it
dawned on me! It must be about that broadcast! I was right. After the
officers had left Carol hurried out to me and we went into the
women's parlor.
"Hank,
that broadcast! Have you heard it?" she blurted out.
"That's
what I came to see you about," I answered. "So you heard
Tod, too?"
There
was an odd smile on her lips. "Those officers, Hank, brought me
a recording of what Tod said. I hadn't heard it," she explained
to me. "Well," I said, "What do you think?"
She
smiled more broadly. "You don't believe Tod meant that tommyrot,
Hank? Now, confess, do you?"
It
was hard to explain my confused feelings. But I tried. "I'd
swear it wasn't Tod talking—only, obviously, it was. He didn't
sound as though he was being tortured into saying those awful things.
But Tod couldn't mean it..."
Carol
was looking at me intently, then she placed her hand on mine. "Hank,
you're Tod's buddy so I'm going to tell you something confidential.
They brought me that recording to identify Tod's voice and to see if
any ideas occurred to me after listening as to what he was saying.
Hank—I think I know where Tod is imprisoned. When he said "this
Communist prison camp is like a honeymoon" he was telling me
that the underground tank depot is the town we stopped at when we
were on our honeymoon trip."
I
stared at Carol in amazement. "Yes," she went on, "I
told it to the officers and they're going to send a paratropp mission
to try to knockout the depot and make a rescue." Behind her
quiet smile, she was tense, nervous, but here was the first ray of
hope she'd had in six months that she might see Tod again.
The
wait for the helicopter seemed endless but finally the plane came
whirling down to the field and we climbed in. We were off to the
place Carol had designated. We had been briefed in great detail of
our task but we could not help wondering—"Is he really there?
Is it just woman's intuition sending us off on this dangerous
mission?"
Carol's
information, and intuition, were correct. We found the tank depot and
succeeded in planting the dynamite. When the explosion went off we
knew we had destroyed a dangerous trap to our forces, but we lost
half the squad on the mission. We didn't even attempt the rescue of
Tod. Our remaining numbers got back to the helicopter by a hair's
breadth.
We
weren't keeping long in suspense as to Tod's fate. The next day the
Red station blared again, announcing that Tod had been executed.
Through all the abuse and contempt the announcer heaped on our
forces, we learned that the Commies had caught on to Tod's tip-off to
us in his radio broadcast. Their revenge was swift—but Tod died as
he had fought—a hero.
