UN Korean War Cemetery

Korea is no stranger to war. This poor country has been occupied more times than one thought possible. There are hardly any original temples or historical buildings left from this or that Japanese invasion led by fire. An ancient Buddha carved into the mountainside has iron spikes through it, as well as the mountaintop itself. "The iron spikes kill the spirit that lives inside," is what I was told. She's had an ugly line drawn around her middle, dividing her, keeping her from being a whole. Everywhere you go, there are reminders that Korea might be addicted to kpop and plastic surgery, but it's past is dark and terrible.

A few weeks ago I went to the United Nations Korean War Cemetery in Busan with Zara. I absolutely love graveyards (yeah, yeah, haters gonna hate) and Zara loves history. Combined with a love my father instilled in me for veterans and Zara's brother being a Marine, we were game.

Upon arriving we were saluted by two ROK soldiers. Strapping young men if I might say so myself. *clears throat* We wondered for an hour looking at the different sections of the cemetery, separated by nation. Each grave has a rose bush by it's side, which I thought was impressive. When we wondered by the open plot of land that was marked "Known Only to God" we both lost it. There is absolutely nothing that puts things into perspective like an unknown grave. Men, boys probably, went to some weird freezing cold country to die, and then when no one knew could recognize their face, they were buried without a headstone. I wept.

Towards the end of the cemetery there is a memorial that looks a great deal like the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C. I remember visiting and being overwhelmed at the magnitude of names carved into that wall. It was silent there. No one spoke as they approached the wall. People would touch names of people they never knew and be overcome with sadness. Here is much of the same. Names, so many names, spread across the wall in neat uniformed lines. They, like the graves, were organized by nation. The Americans took up the entire second wall and then some as they were organized by state. I found North Carolina, put my hand on the names, and recited "Here's to the Land of the Long Leaf Pine". I walked away thinking of my home filled with mountains, oceans, the scent of pine and camp fires, waterfalls up mountain trails, rows of tobacco, and a Carolina blue sky. I looked to that unknown graves plot and hoped that the North Carolina boys made it home to be buried beneath that sky.

We hated the background to this international monument. How tacky.

United Kingdom 

South Africa

This reminded me of my local Veteran's community. A red poppy for remembrance. Thanks Pine Level American Legion for teaching me that.

North Carolina

North Carolina

North Carolina

The eternal flame. 

When all was said and done, Zara and I weren't too impressed with the cemetery itself. It's grounds weren't as well kept as we thought they should be, which in our opinion shows disrespect. We plan on going to the one in Seoul as well. Here's hoping that one is a bit better.

War Cemeteries and Memorials are a perfect personification of Mr. Yeat's line, "I think it better to be silent,". Words cannot touch what massive amounts of dead men's names can. Words cannot floor me, and move me to cry for the dead, the outcomes of war, and the insanity that still goes on today. But that wall could.

"On Being Asked For a War Poem"

I think it better that in times like these

A poet’s mouth be silent, for in truth

We have no gift to set a statesman right;

He has had enough of meddling who can please

A young girl in the indolence of her youth,

Or an old man upon a winter’s night.

~ W.B. Yeats