By Marie Hughes
Director, Chambers County Museum at Wallisville
Following closely on the heels of World War II was the Korean War, sometimes referred to as “the forgotten war.” On Sept. 2, 1945, Japan signed a declaration of surrender, bringing an end to World War II in the Pacific Theater. At this time, the peninsula of Korea was officially divided into two occupation zones at the 38th parallel, with the Soviet Union occupying the northern half and the United States the southern half. This was intended as a temporary arrangement until the Korean people were deemed capable of self-rule.
However, due to a range of extenuating circumstances—including the onset of the Cold War and widespread opposition among Koreans to the trusteeship—the initial framework broke down. The question of Korea’s future was handed over to the United Nations in hopes of finding a viable solution. When the UN failed to meet the expectations of the Soviet Union, it proceeded to supervise an election in the U.S.-occupied south. Syngman Rhee emerged as the elected leader, while Kim Il Sung took power in Soviet-controlled northern Korea.
Both leaders claimed sovereignty over the entire Korean peninsula, setting the stage for open conflict. This culminated on June 20, 1950, when North Korea invaded South Korea in an attempt to reunify the peninsula under communist control. During the Korean War, North Korea received military support from China and the Soviet Union, while South Korea was backed by the United Nations Command—of which 90 percent of forces were from the United States.
The conflict, essentially a war between communism and non-communism, ended in July 1953 after claiming 2.5 million lives. However, it did not conclude with a peace treaty, but with an armistice—a temporary cease-fire. To this day, both North and South Korea remain in a state of unresolved conflict, with each side continuing to claim legitimate governance over the entire peninsula.
I searched, without success, to find a Chambers County Korean War veteran willing to talk about his time during the Korean War. Sadly, most are no longer with us, and of the few who remain, their memories are often locked away—too raw to recall, even 75 years later. Jim Owen, my former pastor at Baytown Community Church in Baytown, has been kind enough to share his story with me, much of which he also recounted to Wisconsin PBS journalist Ann Curry in 2018. With his permission, I have shared part of that interview. His story mirrors the experiences of many who served during that difficult time of war.
Without Roots
Born out of wedlock in San Antonio, Texas, James Richard “Jim” Owen spent the first years of his life separated from his mother, Carolyn James, as the circumstances of his birth were not as openly accepted as they are today.
“The first thing I remember is being in an orphanage in Jacksonville, Florida,” said Jim.
At the age of 7, he was reunited with his mother, but the reunion lasted only a brief seven years.
On his 14th birthday, Carolyn joined the Women’s Army Corps and disappeared again. She left him to serve in Japan during the end of World War II. However noble and patriotic her intentions, they left an emotional void in the heart of her young son.
“Here I was without my mother, I was without roots again. My feeling of loneliness and no roots . . . that left a scar or something on me that I had to handle for many years . . . I was very insecure, tremendously insecure, who was my father . . . ‘cause I never knew my father at all . . . never met him,” said Jim wistfully.
I Wanted to Be Somebody
“After my mother left, I was bouncing around . . . well . . . I wanted to be somebody,” said Jim. “The Marines, as far as I was concerned, was an elite outfit, and that’s what I wanted to be, it’s a small unit and to me, that’s where heroes are made,” he said with certainty.
Jim graduated from Miami High School in 1950 and promptly made his way to the Marine recruitment center at Parris Island, South Carolina, enlisting on July 31, 1950—a decision that had an undeniable impact on his life.
“We were a part of men at arms at a time when our nation needed us. I knew there was a war going on when I enlisted, but I loved my nation, and I wanted to be a part of it,” said Jim from the heart of a true patriot.
Jim and his high school sweetheart, Mary Leona Cheney, had made plans for their future together—plans that were accelerated by Jim’s enlistment and the uncertain shadow cast by the Korean War. Upon completion of his Marine training, Jim and Mary were married on Dec. 26, 1950, in a double-ring ceremony held at the Shenandoah Presbyterian Church in Miami, Florida. The petite Mary, veiled and dressed in white satin, carried a bouquet of white orchids resting upon a white Bible—a testimony that their marriage would be blessed and bound together by God. A short 10 days later, Jim was deployed to Korea.
Jim arrived in Korea on Jan. 21, 1951, in the dead of winter, part of the 50,000 men who were sent to bolster the troops. After living most of his life in Miami, Florida, he was unprepared for the sub-zero temperatures that greeted him.
“The old shoe packs were almost useless, your feet just stayed cold, and they got wet,” said Jim.
He was assigned the position of gunner in Love Battery, 4th Battalion of the 11th Marine Regiment, an artillery unit known as the “Cannon Cockers.” In a crew of ten men, Jim was the one who pulled the trigger on the M114 155mm Howitzer. The 155 towed howitzer, a key asset for the United Nations forces during the Korean War in the challenging mountainous terrain, had a range of 14,000 meters (8.7 miles). It was a workhorse, providing indirect fire support for both infantry and armored units.
“A young man, especially that age, thinks he is invincible, they think they can do anything,” said Jim, speaking of the men in his battalion. “Most of us were younger men and we liked action. We really thought that we were going to win the war. We created a bond that is just as strong now as it was 75 years ago. We would do anything for each other.”
Chosin Reservoir
Prior to Jim’s deployment, the Chinese joined the conflict in support of the North Koreans, creating a pivotal turning point in the war. On Nov. 26, 1950, 80,000 Chinese troops ambushed the U.S. Marines in a surprise attack at the Chosin Reservoir (Chōsen is the Japanese word for Korea), launching a siege that lasted seven days. The U.S. troops and their allies, unprepared for the sub-zero temperatures, were forced to retreat. Jim and his battalion arrived in the aftermath of this attack, which is recorded as one of the worst battles in American military history. The U.S. Marines suffered 4,500 fatalities, and nearly 7,000 additional injuries were directly related to the freezing weather.
It was shortly thereafter that Jim and Love Battery joined the conflict.
“The wind was blowing, and it was 20 below zero,” said Jim. “Now, that is cold,” he added.
As Jim’s battalion was pushed toward the front lines, any glorified allusions of war he and his comrades might have carried were quickly extinguished. Optimism gave way to harsh reality.
“We would go through these different little towns, and they would be just leveled. You would see bodies and body parts . . . seeing the carnage . . . seeing the destruction . . . we realized, we were in the war and everybody’s scared to death,” said Jim, recalling the brutal conditions of daily battle.
Jim vividly remembers fighting during the brutal Chinese Spring Offensive near the 38th parallel.
“They had waves, human waves of people coming at the army and the marines, they’d blow these bugles and yell and start charging, it was awful,” said Jim.
On July 1, 1951, Jim’s battalion, Love Battery, found themselves isolated and under a barrage of heavy artillery.
“The first thing we knew, there was an explosion over to our right and we knew exactly what was happening . . . we were getting so much incoming. We had to be out there shooting back at the enemy when they were shooting back at us,” said Jim.
Bolstered by Bravery
During the three days of combat that followed, Love Battery lost two of its six guns. The communication system was knocked out, cutting off all contact with command and forcing each gunner to operate blind.
“I had to put the new primer in and get ready to fire this gun, we didn’t have time to think about anything except the immediate,” said Jim, acknowledging the chaos of the moment. “I was scared,” he added with sincerity.
“I looked over in the midst of this and I saw these two . . . two lieutenants,” said Jim, momentarily losing his composure as his thoughts drifted back. “They were out there walking around to each gun, encouraging the men, seeing what they needed. Whatever protection I had, they had none.”
Although he only remembered them as Coffeen and Rice, their heroism that day bolstered Jim’s courage and became the catalyst God used to transform him.
“They were faithful to their job, faithful to their men. It was such an inspiration to see those men, coming around doing their job, even though it meant they could get killed at any moment. If they are still living, they would not think of themselves as a hero, but I tell you what, I think of it, because they inspired one young man who needed some other man to inspire him and lead him . . . they inspired me greatly. I guess without knowing it, just those few fleeting moments that I saw them, set the mold for what I wanted to be,” said Jim, with deep respect.
Their heroism continues to inspire him to this day. Jim has never forgotten the profound impact their actions had on shaping the man he would become.
“As I grow older, I’m eternally thankful . . . they inspired me to be faithful, to be that type of man,” said Jim reverently.
Jim returned home from Korea in February 1952 and continued to serve another two years in the United States Marine Corps at Camp Lejeune. On Dec. 18, 1952, Jim’s mother, Master Sergeant Carolyn Hauser James—then serving in the Eighth Army WAC division—was transferred to the combat zone of Korea as personal secretary to General Van Fleet. She brought another WAC with her, and the two women had the honor of becoming the first WACs permanently assigned to Korea’s combat zone.
Marine Joins the Army of the Lord
Jim was discharged from the Marines on July 31, 1954. Following his discharge, he enrolled in Columbia Bible College to pursue his long-held ambition of becoming a Presbyterian minister or missionary. From the age of fifteen, he had known that God was calling him into ministry—a path his wife Mary was happy to walk with him.
After a year at Columbia, Jim transferred to Tennessee Temple University, a Bible college in Chattanooga, Tennessee, where he remained until his graduation around 1958. He and Mary had planned not to pursue further schooling, but their pastor encouraged Jim to attend seminary. The Lord had already been preparing their hearts for this change of plans, and with enthusiasm, they left Tennessee and headed to Texas—the state where God had planted Jim’s roots so many years before on the day of his birth.
Jim attended Dallas Theological Seminary for one year before transferring to Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas, where he earned a master’s degree. His first ministry was at Sylvania Heights Baptist Church in Miami, Florida. He later returned to Dallas to serve as principal of Dallas Christian Academy for three years. From there, God called him to plant and pastor several churches. The one nearest and dearest to my heart was Baytown Community Church. At the church’s grassroots stage, Ed Carpenter and Bob Satrom from Dallas Theological Seminary advised the church to call Jim as their pastor. Jim and Mary, always obedient to God’s calling, served our church faithfully for 12 years.
Jim and Mary, who will celebrate their 75th wedding anniversary this December, have three children: two sons, Jim Jr. and Daniel (the youngest), and daughter Candi Lee, who is sandwiched between them. In addition to his natural children, Jim—the man who never knew his own father—became a spiritual father to many.
Rick Vaughan, current pastor of Baytown Community Church, is one of Jim’s spiritual children. He wrote the following tribute to his beloved mentor:
“Jim Owen was the first pastor I ever had. His teaching led me to faith in Jesus Christ. For several years he taught me, discipled me, and trained me for ministry. All the while, he watched over my walk with the Lord, counseling me and correcting me along the way. But it wasn’t just me during those years. He met regularly with several men in the church, discipling them and showing them how to trust the Lord Jesus to do His work through them to make them the husbands, fathers, and brothers-in-Christ that He desired them to be. And so many of those men’s lives were changed because of the help that Jim provided. In the Bible, the apostle Paul addresses two young men, Timothy and Titus, as his true children in the faith. In my life, I have been blessed with instruction and counsel from many godly men, but through those early years of my spiritual journey, and by his countless hours of investing in my life, pointing me to Jesus Christ in all things, Jim became the one man I thankfully recognize as my true spiritual father.”
Quest for a Connection
In 2018, Jim’s son Daniel began an online search to see if he could find any servicemen who were in his dad’s outfit during the Korean War. A production company in England, looking to create a program about the Korean War, discovered Daniel’s search and reached out to Jim to see if he would be willing to be part of their program, which they titled We’ll Meet Again. Jim was happy to participate and looked forward to the prospect of making a connection with the two heroic lieutenants who had been so instrumental in shaping the man he became.
Jim noted that once you get older, things buried in the recesses of your mind often find their way to the forefront. The call from the production company was just what he needed to bring his wartime memories front and center.
“As you get older, many things you’ve never given a thought to become very important once you begin to think about it. How long do I have . . . I don’t know, but while I’m here I want to encourage somebody along the way,” he said.
Armed only with their last names, Jim began his search at the National Archives in College Park, Maryland. Chief researcher Ann Trevor was able to provide the full names of the two lieutenants he so earnestly sought: 1st Lieutenant Albert Coffeen and 1st Lieutenant Kenneth E. Rice. She then directed him to the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Triangle, Virginia, where she said he could find more detailed records—not only on Coffeen and Rice, but also on himself.
When he arrived, historian Mike W. of the Korean Marine Corps Division assisted him with the research. He showed Jim a detailed report that included the very battle where Coffeen and Rice had shown what heroes were made of, validating Jim’s memories from that day. Jim learned that six men from his battalion had suffered injuries during the July 3rd battle—a fact he was either unaware of or had forgotten.
“For the first time I can verify this in fact was what happened,” said Jim. “And it was even worse than I thought. Having a record of the time when I was in the midst of combat and to think that I was a part of it just humbles me. And I tell you, it was just wonderful to see that information written down.”
Unfortunately, he found out that both of his heroic lieutenants had passed away—Coffeen in 1983 and Rice in 2011. Although Jim had expected that would likely be the case, he was saddened to have it confirmed.
“It was kind of saddening,” said Jim. “I didn’t expect them to be alive because I figured they were probably Second World War men, but if not one of them, I would like to meet one of their sons or daughters and say, I remember your father when he was a hero. Their families need to be as proud of them as they can possibly be.”
Jim returned to the National Archives, hopeful he might find information about their surviving family members. Ann Trevor was able to locate a phone number for Lieutenant Rice’s daughter, Kathryn. Jim was able to make contact with her—a meeting that proved emotional for both Jim and Kathryn.
During his quest to find information on Coffeen and Rice, Jim visited the Korean War Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., which pays beautiful homage to those who served. Designed by Louis Nelson, the memorial wall is shaped in the form of a triangle, standing 164 feet long and 8 inches thick, composed of 42 black granite panels. Etched into the granite is a mural of over 2,500 images representing the land, sea, and air troops involved in the war.
Walking parallel to the mural wall, within the triangle display, are 19 larger-than-life statues known as The Column, sculpted by Frank Gaylord of Vermont. The figures represent a platoon on patrol: 14 U.S. Army soldiers, three Marines, one Navy corpsman, and one member of the Air Force. As you stand among these brave men, you may feel a chill—not just from the stone, but from the vivid representation of the Korean battlefield. Their ponchos, whipped by the imagined wind, serve as stark reminders of the sub-zero conditions. Patches of juniper represent the rice paddies they inched through in pursuit of the enemy. Their flintlike faces, etched with alertness, their hands gripping ready weapons, cast a somber, unforgettable mood.
Regardless of where you stand at the memorial, there will always be at least one serviceman looking at you. The reflections of the 19 statues in the polished granite wall bring the total to 38—a clever tribute to the 38th parallel where much of the conflict took place. Ironically, the war itself lasted three years, one month, and two days, entering its 38th month just before the cease-fire was signed.
A Bond of Brotherhood
As Jim visited the memorial, he tenderly and reverently caressed the images on the memorial wall, silently recalling the faces etched on his heart and the camaraderie and devotion of his brothers in arms. The bond they shared can rarely be experienced by others, for it was forged in the crucible of combat—life-and-death circumstances that fostered a deep sense of mutual trust and loyalty.
Although the Korean War is often referred to as “the Forgotten War,” let us remain ever vigilant not to forget—lest we risk a repetition of one of history’s bloodiest conflicts and threaten the stability not only of our nation but of the world. Furthermore, let us never forget the sacrifice made by the brave men and women, past and present, who selflessly have given—and continue to give—of themselves to ensure we remain the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.