By Tammy Cournoyer
Stars and Stripes
They were called Bonzo, Mickey, Mario, Billy, Henry, Butch, Johnny No Sweat, Bing, Herbie, Jimmy, Susie Q and Mike. The Korean War had left them cold, lonely, tired and hungry.
They weren’t soldiers. They were orphans — tens of thousands of children left wandering, aimlessly looking for food, shelter and someone to take care of them.
Some had witnessed the death of one or both parents; others just one day found themselves alone and homeless.
"Children in Chunchon were living like animals under trains and in box cars," said Thomas Feltman, a sergeant with the 4th Fighter Interceptor Wing. "We (American troops) would give all our food to the younger children, and the older children would hit them with baseball bats to steal it. It was a terrible thing to see.
"I’d come out of my tent and there was a fence right behind it. I’d shine my flashlight at the fence and regardless if it was hot or cold outside, there would be about 10 kids waiting there. I would take them candy bars, cheese, popcorn, whatever I had."
According to the Korean Health and Welfare Ministry, there were 419 orphanages in 1955, the first year that numbers were available.
From raising money for orphanages to raising the orphans themselves, servicemembers were there to help. Some units took in children as mascots and served as their caregivers.
Early in the war, 7-year-old "Henry" was given to members of the 1st Cavalry Division while they were serving near Taegu. Cpl. Jack Folds of LaGrange, Ga., was the boy’s official guardian.
"A bunch of us guys were sitting around the fire one night when some South Korean walked up with Henry hand in hand and said, ‘Presento,’ " Folds said. "He just gave him to us."
From what the men could learn through interpreters, the boy’s mother was killed by communists and his father died while serving with the South Korean army.
The orphans often had to be left behind when a unit pulled out. That didn’t always sit well with the orphans, especially 11-year-old Pong Tong Mah, dubbed "Butch" by members of the 1st Marine Band.
Butch watched as the Marines pulled out of Seoul headed for Hungnam without him. Off he went, walking nearly 25 miles to Inchon, where he hooked up with an Army unit moving out by ship. He convinced the unit to let him go along. Wearing a cut-down Army uniform, Butch left the unit at the North Korean town of Iwon. Around town he heard rumors about Marines being farther south, so he headed out.
Hopping a train, Butch rode nearly 100 miles through guerrilla country — still in uniform. At Hungnam, Butch found his Marines.
When another young boy was left behind, he found a new unit to move in with.
"Bonzo" learned English while living with an engineering unit after his parents were killed. When that unit pulled out, the 8-year-old found a new home with the 19th Quartermaster Company in Taegu. The boy even reached the rank of honorary master sergeant until "the old man called me in and busted me to corporal" for missing reveille, said Bonzo during an interview with Stars and Stripes in 1956.
Men in the unit made sure the boy was in bed by 9 p.m. and took regular showers. But he had his pull, too. Once Bonzo got into an argument with a corporal over front-seat rights prior to a jeep ride. Bonzo won when he explained to the soldier that he had more time in grade than the American.
Some servicemen refused to leave the country without a child. That was the case for 6-year-old "Billy."
The boy served as mascot for the 724th Ordnance Battalion for several months. Soldiers were the boy’s mother, father, guardian and employer. Billy — armed with a cap pistol — fell out for reveille each morning, underwent inspection and policed the area with the rest of the unit. Sgt. Bernard L. Cook initiated adoption proceedings soon after Billy’s arrival.
"I won’t go home," Cook told Stars and Stripes in 1954, "until I can take Billy with me."
Some orphans were found in back alleys sleeping on straw in the mud, while some managed to find shelter.
Col. Ralph B. Garretson, Pusan Army Port commander, discovered 8-year-old "Susie Q" asleep one night in the back of a jeep on Pier 1. While arrangements were being made for her at a local orphanage, she hung out in the staff section of headquarters, banging on typewriters and poring through filing cabinets with the finesse of a secretary.
An entourage of port officers and enlisted men made arrangements for her to be sheltered at an orphanage where they provided financial support for the 130 other children already there.
"Mario" was a 12-year-old boy with no last name — and no right leg because of an infection. Thanks to members of the 1st Marine Wing, a prosthetic leg was ordered from the United States. On the day it arrived, Mario, who lived in an orphanage in Phong, wore himself out practicing his gait. That night he asked if he could sleep with his new leg. He fell asleep with it cradled in his arms.
"Herbie," 7, was adopted by members of the 48th Field Artillery after he was found covered in rags, dirty and severely frost-bitten, sleeping in the streets. He received medical treatment, and the men in the unit took the responsibility of feeding, clothing and educating him. Herbie’s job was to count the miles when he accompanied the men on hikes — which was not a problem when he could only count to four in English. They became concerned when he was able to count to 12.
Many units supported the thousands of children in orphanages by raising money, often writing home for assistance.
A dollar went a long way in 1953 in postwar Korea. A report in the Nov. 3 edition of Stars and Stripes stated that $1 could buy shoes for two Korean orphans, school supplies for three months including a school bag, or 18 tiles to repair an orphanage roof.
When members of the 37th rotated home, newcomers picked up where they left off with the children.
"I can still see them," Feltman said. He wishes he could have done more, but hopes they remember what he did do. "I hope they remember the good ole boy who tried to help them."