U.S. Bombing Range in South Korea: "Hell on Earth!"

Korea International War Crimes Tribunal, June 23, 2001, New York
Report on US Crimes in Korea 1945-2001

20. U.S. Bombing Range in South Korea:
"Hell on Earth!"

bombing range

Karen Talbot

August 2000

One after another, U.S. fighter planes roared directly over the treetops near where we were standing. It was like hell on earth—definitely the most terrifying experience I'd ever had. Each time there were earsplitting, indescribable blasts of noise from the bombing and machine-gunning aimed at targets about one-half mile away. Those targets are just that, targets.

They are not always, nor even usually, hit. Unbelievably, this has been going on every weekday for 50 years from eight o'clock in the morning until eleven o'clock at night. Four hundred to seven hundred bombs are dropped each day by the A-10 and F-16 U.S. fighter aircraft as they swoop over this deceptively serene and bountiful countryside. Nearby are ten humble seaside farming villages, the closest one being Maehyang-ri, located barely one mile from the targets. The place is south Korea—about 50 miles south of Seoul on the west coast.

We were there last July, 18th and 19th, as part of a fact-finding delegation of the International Investigation Commission on U.S. Military Massacres of Civilians and on the Maehyang-ri U.S. Air Force Bombing Range, initiated by the Korea Truth Commission. Our host was the National Alliance for Democracy and the Reunification of Korea, a coalition representing a wide cross-section of society. I participated on behalf of the International Center for Peace and Justice and as a journalist writing for CovertAction Quarterly.

One member of our delegation was Ishmael Guadalupe, a leader of the Committee for the Rescue and Development of Viegues, the island in Puerto Rico which is also being used as a bombing range—by the U.S. Navy. He pointed out that in Vieques you can hear the detonations from afar but it is not possible to see the actual bombing because there are at least 8 mile between civilian locations and the practice range. The planes don't fly over the civilian areas. He was incredulous. "But here at Maehyang-ri, it is right in front of your nose and next to peaceful villages," he exclaimed.

The targets for the bombs are islands in the beautiful bay, not far from shore—a bay from which people derive their livelihoods by fishing. One entire island has already been obliterated. Another, which had been 3 kilometers long, has been reduced to two-thirds its original size.

Unexploded ordnance—undoubtedly thousands of tons—has accumulated everywhere in the bay, on the beaches, and in the fields. Workers at the range clear out as much as they can after each day's practice. Brian Willson, a member of a previous delegation and an Air Force veteran who became an outspoken critic of the Vietnam war, observed that A-10s are "tank-killers" which means they use depleted uranium (DU) shells. As a result of the uproar created by Willson, the U.S. military was compelled to admit they use DU at the Koon-ni range at Maehyang-ri. This adds radio-active contamination to all the other toxic wastes and oil, including from napalm bombs, accumulating near these villages.

Through the years, at least 12 people have been killed and numerous others have been wounded by bombs that went astray. We were told of one case, many years ago, when a 16 year-old child was killed by a bomb—his head was completely severed from his body. His father sneaked out during the night to bury him for fear of the authorities if he revealed that his son had been killed by the U.S. weapons practice. The mother must still endure the daily bombing which reminds her of her son's death. This story is only one example of the climate of fear that prevailed under the brutal dictatorships which, until recently, had held power in south Korea with the blessings of the U.S. military.

Many bombs are found in the villages and there are thousands on the hillsides surrounding the area. People's homes continue to be hit by the shooting. Bullets go through their windows. Cracks and pock marks are plainly visible in walls and roofs.

We visited one home in Maehyang-ri village where a bomb landed on a home on May 8th. An elderly woman resident of the house graciously agreed to let all of us traipse through her modest farm home, past drying herbs and farm animals, to see the hole in the roof of a garage and the bomb itself.

In 1995, there was an accident at one house where the ceiling collapsed. The residents lived in a makeshift shelter for a year, yet there never has been any compensation. Even when notified that villagers are fishing, the planes continue to bomb. Recently, one fisherman reported that a bomb fell right next to his row boat. "This didn't faze them. They kept on bombing, dumping more bombs nearby," he said. When the flights finally stop for a while, villagers go to collect oysters. They frequently encounter unexploded bombs.

Toll on health

After spending the night in a local community center, we watched in the crisp air of early morning as the planes began their bombing. An elderly farmer standing near us with his friends spoke up and said, "It's inhuman, we can't bear this any more." Earplugs are given to U.S. military personnel in buildings well behind the barbed wire fence of the range and away from the target practice. Members of the south Korean police and military who stand guard inside the fences are not given earplugs, nor are the villagers.

Yet when the noise levels have been measured, they zoom completely off the decibel scale. The constant bombardment, with its unbearable noise and pollution, has taken a great toll on villagers' health. One woman was hospitalized recently, just from the shock The number of cancer cases in the nearby villages is disproportionately large and growing. Countless women experience miscarriages, and birth defects are on the increase. It even affects animals. We were told by villagers about a dog that had recently had a miscarriage and about a farmer who had lost 2500 chickens. We also heard that 80 percent of those attending a regional school for children with learning disabilities come from Maehyang-ri.

The head of the village resistance movement, Chun Mankyu, told us his father had killed himself. He then unbuttoned his shirt revealing a large, long, scarlet scar in his chest. He too, had tried to commit suicide. But then for his children's sake, and for all the children of the community, he decided to fight back. He sold his modest home, moved into a smaller place,and quit his job so he could devote full time to the movement to close down the bombing range.

Owned by Lockheed- Martin

Lockheed-Martin now owns the Koon-ni range. Somehow this kind of privatization of the military comes as no surprise because 50 years of dropping bombs and spraying bullets has to be incredibly lucrative for arms manufacturers who not only use up all that ordnance but also glean information to help them build bigger and better weapons.

Looking out over the Koon-ni range one is struck by the verdant landscape where fields of corn, rice and other crops grow exuberantly behind the barbed wire. The villagers explained that they had been forced to pay the U.S. military for use of these lands to grow their crops and could only work them on the weekends when there was no bombing. This is on property, as with all 97 U.S. bases in south Korea, which was taken over by the U.S. military without payment.

Protests Grow

For the good part of 50 years, because of the repression, most Koreans knew nothing about Maehyang-ri. The people of these villages were isolated. Nevertheless, local residents did take action many times. Among other things, they would fly kites to distract the low flying pilots, and when the range was being built they tried to stop the construction by putting their bodies in front of the bulldozers.

On Dec. 12, 1998, when a petition protesting the noise pollution from the firing range which was organized by young people, failed to get response from the government, people went to the base saying, "bomb me." About 1,500 villagers occupied the bombing range, including the islands.

Now, hundreds of thousands of students, farmers, and workers are joining the protests. A huge demonstration, June 17, in Maehyang-ri, drew a large contingent of auto workers from the Kia Motor Co. (Kia had recently built a plant not far from Maehyang-ri ) They demanded the U.S. military close down the Koon-ni bombing range. About 500 demonstrators broke through the fence and entered to occupy the range. Some were injured by the police. Chun, Mankyu ripped down the orange flag which is hoisted each morning to signal the start of the bombing. He and others were arrested and imprisoned. When we met Chun, he had just been released thanks to the burgeoning movement in south Korea which is demanding: "U.S. military out of Korea!"

The powerful protests against the U.S. Navy's bombing range on the island of Vieques have captured worldwide attention and support. The bombing practice on Vieques has despoiled the environment of the region, devastated the livelihoods of the island's population which depends on fishing, and resulted in deaths and injuries to residents—just as in Maehyang-ri. But the situation in Maehyang-ri is not yet as well-known, internationally, despite the powerful movement in south Korea against the bombing range.

On the second day we were at the site, having been fed and taken care of by wonderful young activists working with the Maehyang-ri Task Force, we took part in a large rally of students. They had come by the hundreds despite unbearably hot, humid weather and having had their buses turned back by the police miles down the road. The rally was under way when the flights resumed not far above our heads. A member of our delegation, Elmar Schmaeling, a former admiral in the German Navy turned peace activist, observed that the planes were unloading their bombs and bullets too soon to hit the targets.

Walter Black, a Korean war veteran—also now a peace activist and a member of the delegation—agreed with the admiral. They both expressed alarm that this was quite dangerous for all those taking part in the protest. It was viewed as an act of intimidation aimed at the students.

Hundreds of menacing south Korean soldiers and police arrived by the busloads and gathered inside the razor-wire fence or in the road and on the hills surrounding the protesters. South Korean forces, made up of young conscripts who have no choice but to be there, are always used to protect the U.S. military.

While we were in Seoul, there was another large spirited rally and march which confronted hundreds of helmeted police at the prison where the Maehyang-ri protesters were being held. Three had been released but three were still incarcerated. One of the slogans of the march was: "Repeal the Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA)," under which the U.S. virtually controls south Korea—the Republic of Korea (ROK).

The popular demand: "U.S. military out of Korea," has gained momentum in the wake of the recent highly successful summit between the leaders of both north and south Korea which raised great hopes among people throughout the peninsula for reunification of their country. Many are adamant that the presence of the U.S. forces stands in the way of reunification and peace.

Never during my travels in south Korea did I see an American soldier, though there are 37,000 stationed on 97 bases in the country–one-fourth the size of California. There were two exceptions. As our group walked a mile down the road to the entrance of the Koon-ni bombing range, an American soldier waved at me as a military vehicle passed by. Another time, because I am tall, I could peer over the heads of south Korean militia who were lined up ten deep to guard the U.S. Army base where protesters gathered. I could see two or three men in U.S. military uniforms. I thought, "they surely must feel unwelcome."

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