"American embassies around the world throughout the years have had U.S. Marines on duty for security and physical protection. The Marines protect the ambassador and other State Department officials and employees of the embassy, as well as provide physical security of the embassy buildings as required. During the Second World War, the requirement for Marines in combat and the closure of many embassies significantly curtailed the program. Subsequent to the end of the war and the pressures of the Cold War, a formal program was established. In June of 1948, an ALMAR (all Marine Corps message) was distributed seeking volunteers.

The requirements were strict: NCO rank with a clean record, unmarried and agreeing to remain so for three years, third-generation U.S. citizen, eligible for a Top Secret security clearance. Those selected received orders to Headquarters, Marine Corps, Henderson Hall, Arlington, Va., for duty on ""Special Assignment, Overseas with the State Department.""

The 20-man detail selected for the Republic of Korea was an experienced cross section of the Marine Corps in the year 1948. The senior noncommissioned officer in charge, a master sergeant, the two gunnery sergeants and two platoon sergeants were of the pre-Second World War Corps. They all had seen extensive service and action in the South Pacific. The same went for most of the buck sergeants who, by this time, rated two hashmarks. The remainder of the detachment, all junior NCOs, were on their second enlistments. This 20-man detail reported to HQMC on 10 Nov. 1948 and was billeted in ""F"" Barracks, Henderson Hall.

Training included a brief history of Korea from the ancient to modern era. There were many lectures on security and how to handle what were called ""situations,"" referring to the limits of what could be done in protecting charges and carrying out duties. Training also included weapons familiarization firing and shopping for civilian clothes in downtown D.C. Marine Corps uniforms, ID cards and anything military were left behind. This training was accomplished without incident about 20 Dec.

On 27 Dec., Military Air Transport Service flights took the Marines by stages to Kimpo Airfield, near Seoul, arriving on 9 Jan. 1949. The next day at mission headquarters a familiarization tour was given by the then-embassy security officer, Richard Jones. The security officer had no preconceived notions of what the Marines were capable of doing. They had to derive their responsibilities by trial and error to see what worked and what did not. Within two weeks, they had set up a well-oiled system of posts and watches in the mission headquarters.

The mission, later to become the American Embassy, was in the eight-floor Bando (Peninsula) Hotel. Built during the Japanese occupation, the hotel was semi-fortified, with steel-shuttered strong points guarding the first two floors, and partially surrounded by a dry moat.

Two Marines, Technical Sergeant Jack Edwards and Sergeant Lloyd Henderson, were assigned as bodyguards for the ambassador and were quartered in the official residence compound in Chung Dung. There was a 24-hour, three-man watch at the mission headquarters. In addition, five Marines were assigned to the assistant security officer to check on outside areas during the day.

The Marine control system monitored admittance to the building and a further check of the personnel allowed entrance to the fifth-floor embassy offices and code and file rooms. The Marines conducted security ""shakedowns"" of office spaces to be sure there were no sensitive materials exposed before the Korean cleaning crews started to work. The building was under total security control with well-established procedures and requirements.

Military rank had no bearing on the duty assignments and watch schedules. With the exception of the NCOIC and the two Marines assigned permanently to the ambassador, everybody was equally ""in the barrel"" for any assignment. This arrangement worked well. There were very few incidents or any major problems. The obligation to protect the staff and property of the embassy was always first in the minds of the members of the detail. Duties became routine as the time passed, and nothing really happened until 25 June 1950.

The Invasion: 25 June 1950

On the morning of 25 June 1950, in the American Embassy, Seoul, there were three Marines standing the 2400-0800 watch. Sgt George V. Lampman and Sgt Augustus E. ""Gus"" Siefken were two, but after 50 years none of the participants can remember the third Marine. He was probably Sgt Duane E. ""Dewey"" Lowe.

The main offices of the embassy were on the fifth floor of the Bando Hotel. Access to the fifth floor was restricted after working hours, save for one stairwell entrance controlled by the ""Blueboy"" post--which was the home base and call sign for the limited radio net operated by the Marine security section. A second post screening visitors was in the first-floor lobby. The third post was ""Rover,"" a radio jeep that continually patrolled and visited all the embassy-occupied hotels, warehouses, open storage areas and outlying residences during hours of darkness. A Korean police lieutenant and an embassy interpreter always accompanied Rover. During normal working hours, this third Marine would control entrance to the embassy main lobby. Also on the communications net were the embassy fire chief and security officers. Outside normal working hours, the embassy security telephone rang at the fifth-floor Blueboy post. At 0530, Lampman started receiving inquiries from people asking, ""What's going on?"" He responded that there was nothing that he knew of and logged the calls. Some time after 0600, when Lampman rotated to the lobby post, Jack James, a United Press correspondent, came into the lobby, asking the same question. Soon, he was joined by Sarah Park, another reporter. The answer was always the same: nothing.

Unbeknownst to the Marines, the war had, in fact, started at 0400 that morning. At 0800 the watch was relieved by Sgt Paul Dupras, Sgt Glenn ""Tiny"" Green and Corporal William ""Bill"" Lyons. Jack James reappeared at 0845 in great excitement, saying, ""The North Koreans have crossed over the parallel in force.""

Dupras responded at first, ""So what? That is a common occurrence.""

James said, ""Yeah, but this time they've got tanks.""

It became apparent that this was the real thing. About 0830, Ambassador John J. Muccio appeared at the Blueboy post and directed Dupras to immediately locate Robert Heavey, the recently arrived embassy security officer. Heavey arrived and, after a short consultation with the ambassador, told Dupras to recall all the Marines.

The ambassador's personal security team of Edwards and Henderson, both heavily armed, established a strong point outside the ambassador's office. Green, joined by Cpl John L. ""Spanky"" Sullivan, who had just arrived, drew M1 rifles from the armory and took up post on the roof. What this precaution was intended to be against was never clear. As other Marines arrived, they were directed to critical areas in the embassy.

Upon being relieved from the night watch, Siefken and Lampman had returned to their new quarters in the Capitol Apartments, just a few blocks behind the Korean capitol building. No sooner had they hit the sack than they were awakened by the room clerk with a ""phone call in the office."" Dupras was on the line and said simply and forcefully, ""Get back to the embassy immediately with any of the guys you can find. And bring any weapons you have with you."" A jeep was already on the way. Around 0930, Siefken and Lampman were on the way back to the embassy. Just as the jeep cleared the capitol building and turned right onto Qua Ha Moon, they noticed a formation of what looked like P-51 Mustangs flying very low over the city. They assumed it was the first class of Korean Air Force pilots due back from training in Texas, putting on a show for the local folks. At least, they thought so until two planes peeled off and made a strafing run at the jeep from the 12 o'clock position. To distinguish them from Army vehicles, embassy vehicles were painted bright orange--the perfect target. Needless to say, they screeched that jeep to the side of the street and bailed out behind some stonework. After the two Soviet-built YAKs made a few more passes, the Marines and the Korean driver got back into the jeep and made it to the embassy without further incident.

At the fifth-floor control point, Master Sergeant John F. Runck was mustering the Marine security section. By this time most of the section had reported on board. Those not on watch were told to go to the embassy main dining room, eat something and stand by while Runck and Embassy Security Officer Heavey made assignments from a pre-prepared order. Meanwhile, the arsenal had suddenly blossomed from the normally carried .38s to a vast array of Japanese carbines, a Thompson submachine gun, a few M1s, shotguns, etc. To this day many of the men have no idea where all this armament came from so quickly. Scuttlebutt was rampant: ""This is no drill. The 'Goonies' [slang for the North Koreans] are on the way in strength."" The only question was how soon would they be at the city gates.

One Marine was given the assignment to drive to the main railroad station to meet embassy staffers arriving on the night train from Pusan. He reported a very slow trip; the streets were crowded, and the YAKs were strafing indiscriminately, causing panic and civilian casualties. The main streets around the station were jammed with the troops of the Korean Army Second Division, who were being rushed north from their training area near Taejon.

Several other Marines were sent to alert embassy families in outlying, isolated residences that they needed to be ready to move out quickly should an evacuation be initiated. The decision to evacuate dependents was made around midnight on Sunday. Ambassador Muccio's deputy, Everett Drumwright, reported that by that time it was clear the North Korean forces headed for Seoul through the Uijongbu Corridor could not be stopped.

Early Monday morning, Lowe and Lampman were given the task of destroying all the embassy vehicles in the motor pool that were not running and were on ""dead line."" With M1s and cases of ammunition, they went to the motor pool. They lifted each hood, aimed exactly into the block just behind the flywheel and put in a couple of rounds. The damage the M1s caused would prevent the North Koreans from cannibalizing any of the vehicles to make others run. Capturing the embassy motor pool would not add to North Korean mobility. Since there were jeeps, three-quarter-ton trucks, sedans, cargo trucks and extra engines in the shops, it took several hours to ""execute"" the task.

By the afternoon of the 25th, the embassy staff, secretaries and code-room personnel had reported to work and were screening classified material to be burned. Although relatively calm on the inside, the building itself was exposed to danger. Embassy staff were told to remain inside and stay off the roof because of North Korean strafing. The ambassador himself moved to Drumwright's office, as his own corner office was too exposed to random bullets.

As burning got underway, it became clear what an enormous job this would be. The Army attaché alone seemed to have tons of the material, mostly Confidential technical manuals. It all had to be destroyed by the Marines, at first using the furnaces in the embassy basement on a day that was already a boiling 90 degrees.

Sgt Charles E. Goff, Sgt John O'Hazzo, Sgt Edwin T. Wright, Staff Sergeant Robert T. Ward, Dewey Lowe, Tiny Green and Cpl Edward T. Zrubek were some of the first Marines assigned to the burn detail. They were later joined by Cpl Ervin G. Krouse, who had been assigned as the American supervisor of all the U.S. installations outside the embassy compound: motor pool, commissary and storage building. They manned dollies and collected the classified materials which the embassy staff stacked outside office doors. They trucked the material down to the basement and fed the furnace--all day Sunday and into the night. With short, infrequent breaks for food and rest--and sometimes serving as convoy escorts to Inchon and Kimpo Airfield--they hauled and burned and drove from Sunday morning straight through to Tuesday afternoon. They got the job done.

After a short break, the burn detail continued outside the embassy building. Dupras was involved in setting up a homemade cage, made out of cyclone fencing and steel posts, in which to burn documents. This setup, in the parking lot of the embassy, caused a problem, as the large, constant fires brought most of the Seoul City Fire Department to the scene. The Marines argued to let the fires burn and almost lost the argument until an interpreter intervened. From time to time, when they were not on other assignments, the rest of the Marines helped with the burn detail.

Evacuation: 26-27 June 1950

Preparations for the evacuation were being handled by other members of the Marine detachment. Krouse supervised a dozen Korean watch supervisors and about 50 watchmen. Arriving at the embassy on the morning of 26 June, Krouse learned of the ambassador's decision to evacuate all nonessential American citizens, with the Marines to be the last to leave. As the Americans left, Krouse's responsibility was to cover the areas for which the embassy was responsible and ensure the watch force remained in place.

That morning, there were South Korean soldiers running through the streets of Seoul in panic, alongside the civilians. North Korean planes were strafing the city and Kimpo Airfield. Civilians and demoralized Korean military were heading for the Han River Bridge, crowding across in disarray and struggling southward to escape the city. Maintaining order during the evacuation was not an easy assignment.

From the morning of the 25th through the end on 27 June, Krouse was constantly on the move, checking the various watch posts and trying to keep embassy facilities from being pilfered. The various sites were becoming less and less secure because the watch force was leaving its positions. On the 26th alone, half the supervisors left. These men were going home to take care of their families in the face of the invasion. By midmorning on the 27th, Krouse was forced to dismiss the remaining watch force and return to the embassy proper. He joined the Marines there already burning classified documents. From the time of the invasion until he and the other Marines were finally evacuated by air, Krouse never left his assigned duties. He, along with most of the Marine security guards, left Korea with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

As the evacuation progressed during Monday, 26 June, most Marines were relieved in rotation to return to quarters, pack a few belongings and return to the embassy. Dupras, Green and Lyons had a chance to leave the embassy at 0900 for the first time in more than 25 hours. All American dependents (women and children of embassy staff) plus nonessential employees and many other foreign nationals were assembling with their baggage at the embassy. A convoy of buses took these people to Inchon to evacuate. Several people did not want to leave and had to be forcibly put on the buses. Marines escorted and controlled the bus convoy to Inchon.

The large group of 682 women and children was taken to the port at Inchon and put on the only ship available, a Norwegian fertilizer hauler, SS Reinholt. It would not be a pleasant voyage to Japan. The convoy returned Monday evening, and the Marines carried out other assignments.

Late Monday afternoon, several Marines escorted another bus convoy of single American Embassy employees to Kimpo aerodrome where the Far East Air Force (FEAF) planned to run in several C-54 transports to begin the air evacuation. There were no ships, other than the Norwegian one, close enough to Inchon to get more people out by sea before the North Koreans would probably reach Seoul. The remainder of the evacuation would have to be by air or overland. While at Kimpo, this group saw two FEAF F-82s, twin-boom Mustangs, knock down two YAKs that were attempting to get at the C-54s. FEAF was able, all during the evacuation, to protect the air bridge taking people out of Seoul.

Later on Monday afternoon, Green and Lampman drew the assignment of destroying the embassy switchboard. This switchboard was composed of four eight-position manual banks which they went at with sledgehammers. It took a couple of hours to complete the job. Then came chow and more carpet time.

Lampman was awakened at 2200 and was told to get a radio jeep for a run to Kimpo. As the switchboard was out and the radio not secure, he had to personally contact the airport contractor, Bourne Associates, to remove all their heavy equipment from the runway, as FEAF would start running in planes as soon as dawn broke. The YAKs had shot out all the communications at Kimpo, and the last telephone instruction from the embassy had been to block the runway with heavy equipment to impede an airborne assault during the time when the South Korean Army was still holding the North Koreans in the Ouijonbu corridor.

Lampman headed for Kimpo along with a Korean police lieutenant, an interpreter and a driver. The streets were quiet. They were challenged at almost every street corner through Seoul and Yong Dong Po and at each intersection in the dark countryside all the way to the airport. All the checkpoints were jittery. Lampman was jittery, too, thinking about how it was in China in 1946 and '47 after curfew--the ""halt"" three times and ""Bang"" scenario. They made it to Kimpo, and the runway was cleared by first light. They departed Kimpo and arrived in Seoul as the sun came up, ate some chow and hit the carpet for much-needed sleep.

Throughout the early hours of Tuesday, 26 June, the document destruction continued, and the remaining embassy staff was given breaks to pick up personal gear from their quarters. The limit was supposed to be one suitcase and what could be worn. This order produced some funny outfits: fur coats (in June), Easter bonnets, tennis rackets, hunting rifles, shotguns, ice skates, bottles of booze or perfume, bolts of silk, Irish linen, plus two or three cameras and extra purses hanging from the people's necks. The last remaining nonessential personnel were put in a bus convoy to leave the embassy for Kimpo Airfield at 0730. Again, the Marines led the way.

At Kimpo, passengers were loaded onto the transport aircraft in very fast order. Six planes were cycled through in 45 minutes. The last plane out was attacked by North Korean YAK fighters. American P-51s and F-82s knocked down another North Korean plane, and the rest departed in a big hurry. There were no friendly losses. The convoy returned, mission accomplished, in the early afternoon. Final destruction duties were being carried out at the embassy, where only the ambassador, consul, first secretary and the Marines remained. The ambassador's group, with Jack Edwards as the single Marine guard, would be the last to depart--by road to the south.

Later on Tuesday morning, Lampman was assigned a run out to the East Gate of the city to make sure the fuel depot supervisor was on his way in to the embassy. He was also to ensure the Seventh-day Adventists were aware of their own opportunity to fly out on Tuesday morning from Kimpo.

Lampman never reached the Seventh-day Adventist compound, as he sighted a North Korean tank on the road north of the East Gate. It was evidently out of fuel and had outstripped the infantry support. There didn't appear to be any organized friendly military force between the tank and Seoul. Had the North Korean armor been able to move, they could have captured the city. One distant look was enough, and Lampman went back into the city and to the embassy. It wasn't known at the time what happened to the Adventist group, but they did survive. They were seen later after the Marines returned to Seoul following the Inchon landing.

Lampman's and Green's assignment at midmorning was to destroy two of the embassy code machines. With two or three armed escorts, they took the machines to the sidewalk in front of the embassy and hooked them up with leads to a jeep battery. The code machines were thermite encased, and upon starting the jeep engine the machines began to melt. In about three or four minutes all that was left were two lumps of molten metal, each about the size of a football.

Things became really hot then. Few people were left in the embassy, aside from the ambassador's party. Dupras was assigned to take all the greenbacks out of the finance office safe. The finance officer half-filled a regular-sized U.S. Mail bag with packs of bills and told Dupras to ""get this to Japan."" That was it, no receipt, no lock, nothing. Lampman was told to remove the Great Seal of the United States from the mechanism in the consulate and ensure it was destroyed. The seal, which was used to certify official documents such as passports, was embossed on a square column of case-hardened steel about 2 inches square and 3 or 4 inches long. Having nothing capable of destroying it, all he could do was take it along on the evacuation, in his jacket pocket. Since the seal was not to be taken out of the country, Lampman would have to figure out some way to destroy it before getting to Japan.

Late Tuesday afternoon, the Marines were told to pick out the best jeeps, service them, get some expeditionary cans of gas, gather some food and head south out of the city. The NCOIC, John Runck, who had spent a tough cruise in Japan as a prisoner of war, let it be known that none of the Marines were going to be captured, no matter what or how. When everybody else was out and headed south, the Marines too would be allowed to go. The word was that they should head for Pusan and when they got there--start swimming.

Dupras and Lampman found the assistant security officer's jeep, which had a radio. Then came a last-minute change of orders. The Marines were to head for Kimpo because FEAF was sending in one more plane. In late afternoon, the Marines headed out for Kimpo in small groups as the escape vehicles were readied. The enemy was at the East Gate of the city.

As late as 1700 on the 27th, the South Korean chief of staff was still trying to build up a final defensive line north of Seoul. It was to no avail. One of the ambassador's personal security guards, Jack Edwards, the only Marine not to come out through Kimpo, accompanied Ambassador Muccio and a small staff south by car, just ahead of the North Korean invaders.

The Marines navigated the streets of Seoul, over the Han River Bridge, which was later prematurely blown up at 0215 on 28 June, trapping many of the South Korean forces still fighting a delaying action in the city. The road all the way through Yong Dong Po was heavy with refugees also heading south. Once on the Kimpo Highway, it was clear sailing. Arriving at Kimpo, the Marines found a large group of non-Korean nationals milling around. The Marines kept close to their vehicles on the tarmac--they still might need them--and waited and waited.

Finally, one C-54 dropped in and taxied up to the tarmac in front of the terminal. By now, Korean police had established order, and John Stone, the American Consul General, cleared all the people to get onto what was understood as the last plane out of Kimpo. The pilot of that plane informed Stone that FEAF had one more ""last plane"" on the way in about one hour. That plane then took off, leaving everyone on the field just waiting. More and more people kept arriving. Soon, what was to be the ""real last plane"" came in, and all those people wanted to get on it.

Everybody had been informed since early Monday that air evacuees could carry only one small bag. Needless to say, all the bags were big, and people also were carrying a grand assortment of loose gear and packages. Stone had a list of cleared people and also a big heart, so he piled people on the plane. The pilot never shut down his engines. The sound was deafening, and the plane was rocking on the runway.

At that point, the only folks left on the ground were the Marines and a few embassy staff. The word came down from the pilot that he was already overloaded, but he said, ""What the hell, come on!"" So, the Marines too climbed aboard--standing room only forward. Contemplating the likely situation in Kimpo, FEAF had put on a minimum crew, pilot, copilot and crew chief. They had foreseen all the people who would want to board in Kimpo.

Some of the Marines wound up standing in the navigator's compartment. As soon as the last guy was aboard, the door closed and the plane began to move down the taxiway toward the runway. Having put on the navigator's headset, Lampman heard the pilot say to the crew, ""I don't know if I can get this thing off the ground."" The pilot immediately told the crew chief to open the door and throw out anything that wasn't nailed down. And away the plane headed for the runway with a stream of suitcases, boxes, bags, survival gear and weapons littering the taxiway. The sound of machine-gun fire on the airfield perimeter was a real motivator. Almost everything went out of the plane. Little was sacred.

Everyone breathed easier as the plane burned off some fuel and gained altitude. There were 110 people aboard, which must have been some sort of record. Over the Straits of Tsushima, Lampman completed his final evacuation task. He received permission to open the little, round navigator's Plexiglas porthole and dropped the Great Seal of the United States into the briny depths of the Tsushima Strait.

Upon arrival in Inazuke, Japan, everyone was warmly greeted by the large base reception committee in a hangar set up with refreshments, telephones and medical assistance. FEAF went all out and did a superb job. Everyone received a toilet kit, skivvies and socks. There was free food in any of the clubs, and there were bunks overnight before entraining the next morning for Kyoto.

Upon landing in MacArthur's empire, anyone with greenbacks in their possession had to go to the base finance office to fill out a declaration and exchange the currency for Military Payment Currency--the legal scrip in Japan under the occupation. Dupras went to the Base Finance Office with the mailbag full of greenbacks. Since the possession of greenbacks in ""MacArthurland"" was equally as serious a crime as murder, it was easy to understand the commotion that ensued when Dupras dumped out the mailbag on the floor. However, Dupras had done his job well. Imagine if he had let the crew chief throw that bag out on the Kimpo taxiway!

It took hard work throughout three eventful days to safely evacuate everyone, and it was accomplished without loss of life. The ambassador said that it was done ""without so much as a bloody nose.""

A final note--Sunday through Tuesday, the majority of the Koreans employed by the American Embassy remained loyal and steadfast. The drivers, dining room staff, hotel employees, and switchboard and communications personnel all stayed on the job. It is doubtful whether the evacuation would have been so successful without their unstinting help. Unfortunately, they paid dearly for their loyalty. The North Koreans dealt severely with them and their families--those who were not able to go to cover during the occupation. Some were executed, and some were never seen again. They were the true heroes of the evacuation from Seoul."