Opinion

My son and the Marine

This time of year in Hong Kong, Americans here look forward to port calls by the US Navy. For many of us expats, their arrival means a chance to get to know the sailors and Marines who defend us by having them over for a home-cooked meal.

My family enjoys these meetings as much as anyone. Yet each year at this time, we offer a special thank you for a Marine we never met. His name is Kurt Chew-Een Lee. In his story shines the honor of the Marine Corps and the glory of America.

Lee entered the Marines near the close of World War II. When he graduated from Officer Candidate School in 1946, he became the first Chinese-American officer in the history of the Corps. At 5’6” and 140 pounds, he was smaller than every man in his machine-gun platoon, which deployed to the Korean Peninsula in 1950. But this was no shrinking violet.

The Korea Marines were a tough bunch. Many had extensive combat experience in World War II. Some had doubts at the thought of being led into battle by an untested Chinese-American lieutenant. These concerns did not last long.

Just after Thanksgiving in 1950, just south of the North Korean border, the Chinese Army came crashing down on UN forces around the Chosin Reservoir who were already enduring sub-zero temperatures and blinding snow.

Surrounded and outnumbered, the Marines being Marines, didn’t think of surrender. Instead they acted on the famous words of their commander, Gen. Oliver Smith. “Retreat hell!” roared Smith. “We’re attacking in a different direction!” And they did.

Lt. Lee was one of the officers who would lead the attack. But to do it, he first had to bust out of a hospital where he was being treated for wounds he’d received earlier that month. In this fight, he had barked out orders and misinformation in Chinese to confuse the Chinese Communist troops. He was shot in the elbow by a Chinese sniper, but would receive the Navy Cross for his actions there.

But Lee had more to give. After stealing an Army jeep, he and a fellow Marine made their way back to their unit. On Dec. 2, he learned he would be leading 500 men in a night march across impassable mountain terrain — with Communist forces on either side of him. The aim was to come to the relief of badly outnumbered Marines trapped on Fox Hill, where they were defending a key mountain pass.

With his arm in a sling and wearing a bright orange cloth so his men could see him, this intrepid lieutenant led his unit through the dark. There was no trail or map to guide them through the frozen wasteland, and they had to stay off the roads.

At one point, they found themselves pinned down by intense enemy fire from Chinese Communist forces. Lee refused to slow down the march. As usual, he attacked. His Silver Star commendation says that such was his “aggressive and inspirational leadership,” the Marines routed the enemy. By his actions, Lee helped secure a vital pass and saved several thousand men from being killed or captured.

For Lee, the Korean War would come to an end a few days later when he was shot by a burst of enemy machine-gun fire. As usual, he was exposed because his main concern was getting his Marines into a secure position. He would retire from the Corps many years later as a major.

Gen. Ray Davis, Lee’s commander at Chosin, called Lee the bravest Marine he ever knew. Lee’s story is well told in a Smithsonian Channel documentary called “Uncommon Courage: Breakout at Chosin.” And there is a push by some of his fellow veterans who say Lee should be recognized with the Medal of Honor for his actions.

My family’s connection with Major Lee is much simpler. My wife and I have a Chinese-American son, and we wanted him to have a Chinese name he can be proud of. We did not choose Maj. Lee because he was a Marine or a war hero. We chose that name because we wanted a Chinese name for our son that signified loyalty, bravery, and a willingness to sacrifice.

It just so happens that those characteristics are easy to find in a Marine who is a hero.

Mark Simon is an executive with Next Media in Hong Kong.