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This story was initially revealed as “These Korean Trout” within the September 1953 problem of Out of doors Life. You possibly can learn extra in regards to the creator beneath.
The day was unbelievably sizzling, and the mud which the marching troops kicked up coated everything-even our throats. We males of the First Marine Division have been transferring again from the traces for per week of relaxation in X Corps Reserve, so we minded neither the warmth nor the mud. Repeatedly my eye wandered to the cool, contemporary waters of the mountain stream that cascaded alongside beside the twisted path we have been following. All the Korean countryside was clad within the contemporary inexperienced splendor of spring, a welcome aid from the bitter winter.
This was the primary spring I might keep in mind that didn’t contain plans for trout fishing. Nevertheless, we have been going into reserve, and that meant per week of nothing however relaxation, letter writing, and mail calls. We have been solely about three miles from the entrance and will nonetheless hear the thundering of the artillery. However that glowing stream by the roadside made the warfare appear one million miles away.
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It was a feeder that emptied into the Pukhan River. That very same morning I’d seen Korean civilians dynamiting the river with hand grenades and scooping useless trout from its floor—a few of them trying so long as my arm. It occurred to me that if there have been trout within the Pukhan, shouldn’t there be some in its feeder streams?
After that it was like previous occasions; I used to be planning a fishing journey. My plans hinged upon the place we’d camp. Luck was with me; about 1700 hours (5 p.m. civilian time) we halted beside the stream. By the point my buddy and I had dug our foxholes and arrange our shelter there wasn’t sufficient daylight left for fishing, however sufficient for me to rig up some deal with.
Our radio operator had damaged an aerial, so I salvaged it and disjointed it. With makeshift guides it could function a satisfactory substitute for a fly rod. It was significantly stiffer than most rods, however it could do. When a case of C-rations was damaged open I retrieved the wire, borrowed pliers from a communications man, and began to vogue guides, which I wrapped to my “rod” with particular person strands of communication wire.
The rubber-covered wire itself wasn’t in contrast to fly line besides that it was heavier and, after all, had no taper. Nevertheless it turned out to be too heavy to deal with effectively, even on the stiff aerial rod. For leaders, I used some separated strands. It was fairly troublesome to type loops in them however I lastly managed. The one factor I might discover remotely resembling a reel was an empty spool from my stitching package; it could serve to carry line however can be ineffective in enjoying a fish.
My consternation was nice when appreciable digging failed to supply any worms. I had completely nothing I might use for a lure. However then a person got here in with one of many ringneck Chinese language pheasants you see throughout Korea.
I begged some feathers from him, customary a crude hook out of C-ration wire, used some thread from my package, and tied probably the most incredible and awkward trying fly ever seen by a fish. I’d by no means tied a fly earlier than, so this large, ungainly one was like no insect that ever existed, nevertheless it was gaudy and colourful.
Now all I needed to do was wait till morning. Doubts instantly stuffed my thoughts. I wasn’t in any respect certain there have been trout within the stream, and if there have been I actually wasn’t very effectively geared up to take them. However a minimum of I’d be alone on a stream once more and get the previous thrill of anticipation of what may lie across the bend. I’d know as soon as extra that feeling of internal peace and contentment that involves a fisherman on a great stretch of water. My battle-jangled nerves might use a tonic like that.
There was no reveille subsequent morning in the remaining reserve however I used to be up in time to witness a stupendous Korean dawn. The birds have been singing and the whole countryside was bathed in golden daylight; my eyes, accustomed to nothing however the filth and blood and smoke of battle for greater than two months, couldn’t get sufficient of that morning splendor.
My fishing gear could be ridiculous however I felt the identical eager sense of expectancy that pervades the angler within the States on opening day. Right here I used to be on virgin water. If there have been fish in that water they’d be each native and na’ive, for the Koreans fish solely with traps or dynamite. The water was deep and clear however the stream was so slim I might soar throughout it nearly anyplace. I hung my M-1 rifle throughout my shoulders, picked up my makeshift deal with and my empty packsack, and began upstream. A couple of mile from camp I forged right into a deep, quiet pool on the foot of an extended, turbulent run.
At the very least I attempted to forged; the heavy “line,” struck the water effectively forward of the fly, inflicting an amazing splash. I might see the flash of numerous fish heading for the undercut banks. I had ruined this pool, a minimum of for a number of hours. However, I now knew there have been fish within the stream.
I ruined a number of different doubtless spots, too, earlier than I jumped throughout stream and acquired the stiff breeze at my again. It was apparent I’d by no means be capable to handle a great forged with the heavy wire. Beneath me the stream made an abrupt flip, its waters surging right into a whirlpool on the reverse financial institution. I stood about 15 toes from the close to financial institution and let the wind carry my fly over the stream and dap it gently on the floor. There was a miniature explosion within the water and the fly disappeared.
I didn’t even need to set the hook; the tight line and cruel strike had taken care of that. I’m certain that anglers will perceive the elation that was mine; phrases fail me when I attempt to categorical it. Right here I used to be, quick to a combating trout once more after two years away from all fishing and 4 months of the dreary, slugging work of battle.
Sadly the burden of my deal with made the battle temporary, and I quickly lifted 11 inches of very drained trout up onto the financial institution. He was extra welcome to me than bigger fish had ever been, and I stood there for a while admiring his magnificence. He didn’t appear to be any trout I used to catch again dwelling in Colorado. He had the identical form as they, however his stomach was an excellent red-orange. His dorsal fin was closely noticed whereas the others have been plain. A bright-red lateral stripe ran from head to tail, and his again was olive coloured.
All of the fish I caught after that have been of the identical sort, and I caught a lot. Each time I managed to get my fly quietly onto the floor, in any pool or pocket, a fish would hit it instantly.
Like all anglers, I had lengthy dreamed of fishing virgin waters that teemed with combating trout, and right here it was. Due to my awkward deal with I missed numerous strikes that I ordinarily would have hooked, however simply the identical caught about 100 fish that day.
If that sounds hoggish, bear in mind this: the lads in my platoon had been consuming nothing however C-rations for months, and you’ll think about what they’d do to crisp fried trout. I felt justified in taking as many as I might.
I FOLLOWED the stream by rugged hills and inexperienced valleys, taking fish from each doubtless pocket. When the solar was straight overhead I put down my deal with, rifle, and sack ( now bulging with fish), and ate a lunch of C-rations.
For the primary time since I’d landed on the forbidding peninsula 4 months earlier
I felt completely comfortable, distant from warfare and killing. It was like residing in a dream, and the C-rations have been my solely contact with actuality. I don’t know precisely how lengthy I lay there reminiscing about different fishing journeys nevertheless it should have been a few hours. Lastly I acquired began once more, since I wished each man in my platoon to have his fill of trout.
The sack held about 50 fish, and I quickly had it stuffed. When that was stuffed I used a stringer made from communications wire. The trout made fairly a load, however my again was accustomed to take it. I fished alongside, fairly forgetful of the warfare and fairly unaware of the truth that I used to be in an space which had been by-passed by our troops and never solely cleared of the enemy.
I had reached some extent within the stream the place the water slowed down and deepened into lengthy, glassy stretches with frequent bends and undercut banks. A giant trout got here as much as my gaudy fly however I missed the strike. I put the lure down once more, hoping he’d have one other strive at it.
Simply then I noticed a bit of puff of mud rise at my toes. My battle reflexes despatched me flat on the bottom—I used to be falling once I heard the crack of the rifle.
I landed behind an extended rock a couple of foot excessive. So long as I lay immobile nothing occurred however each time I attempted to maneuver, the mud would puff up in entrance of me and I’d hear the rifle bark.
There’s nothing like being shot at to persuade an individual {that a} bullet actually travels quicker than sound.
I wasn’t capable of elevate my physique sufficient to unsling my M-1, so I unfastened the sling claws, eliminated the sling utterly, and at last acquired the rifle round into my arms. I knew that someplace past the rock a sniper was hid.
However the place?
I lastly squirmed right into a place from which I might peer across the fringe of the rock with out drawing hearth, and I rigorously scanned each inch of potential cowl.
However all to no avail; that sniper was expertly camouflaged. I don’t understand how lengthy I lay there straining my eyes nevertheless it appeared like an eternity. I might—and did—intentionally draw pictures in an effort to find his firing level however there was simply an excessive amount of cowl to look at, and I couldn’t focus on any a part of it.
The solar was approaching the horizon, and I used to be starting to surprise if I’d need to spend the evening the place I used to be, when a magpie approached a tree as if to mild. Nevertheless it turned and flew away, squawking raucously. That was my clue. Each different level of canopy however that tree was now eradicated. Besides I couldn’t discover the sniper in it. This known as for technique.
I eliminated my cap, positioned it on the muzzle of my rifle, and slowly raised it above the rock. I knew that the enemy used an inferior grade of smokeless powder, and my ruse labored completely.
I heard the shot, then noticed a wisp of smoke within the greenery. I rigorously acquired my sights on the spot and squeezed off a spherical. I heard the sickening thwack of a bullet hitting flesh and watched the sniper topple from his hiding place amidst a bathe of branches, twigs, and leaves.
He was useless once I acquired to him. Proper then and there I took a solemn oath by no means to shoot one other magpie.
Because it was now too late to do any extra fishing I returned to camp with my catch. The trout ranged from seven to fifteen inches, and I acquired plenty of prepared assist in cleansing them. Then we constructed a fireplace, caught the trout on sharpened sticks, and roasted them like sizzling canine. I’ve by no means tasted something higher in my life.
That is Elwayne Carter, who tells you ways he caught “These Korean Trout” and almost misplaced his life doing it. A Marine Corps veteran, he has lived since boyhood with an uncle and aunt in Colorado. Each ardent open air folks, they taught him to like fishing and searching.
“Each Sunday throughout Colorado’s lengthy fishing season,” he writes, “we have been on the North Fork of the South Platte and different streams within the space.” The trout have been often prepared and ready, however by no means did Carter run into such astonishing fishing as he discovered inside sound of battle.
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He served with the First Marine Division in Korea from December, 1950, to June, 1951, and was discharged that summer time. Now he’s majoring in journalism on the College
of Colorado. By the way, he wrote this story as a part of his class work; his professor urged Carter to ship it to OUTDOOR LIFE. The editors agree he’s completed a great job.
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