South Korean Defense Minister Kim Yong-hyun extended a long-awaited formal apology for the tragic fate of the members of the Silmido unit, a secret commando group created during the Cold War era. This marks the first time in more than half a century that the South Korean government has formally acknowledged the suffering and controversial execution of these soldiers.
The apology was delivered on Kim’s behalf during a solemn ceremony that also launched an excavation project aimed at recovering the remains of four Silmido unit members who were secretly buried following their execution in 1972. Minister Kim’s statement expressed a deep acknowledgment of the pain and injustice endured by the soldiers and their families.
“May those who were sacrificed during the Silmido incident rest in peace, and I express deep apologies and condolences to bereaved family members for their suffering and sadness,” Kim’s message read. The ceremony not only reflected a rare moment of government remorse but also underscored the enduring scars left by one of the most controversial covert operations in South Korea’s military history.
This apology follows a report released in August, signaling the government’s intent to address the controversial operations conducted during the Cold War era, notably the secretive and ill-fated mission involving the Silmido unit. The covert operation, which sought to retaliate against North Korea’s aggression, remains one of the darkest chapters in South Korea’s military history, and this public apology is seen as a crucial step in reconciling with the past.
The Silmido unit, also known as Unit 684, was established in the late 1960s during a particularly volatile period of the Cold War. Tensions between North and South Korea had reached alarming levels after a brazen attempt by 31 North Korean operatives to infiltrate the heavily fortified border and assassinate then-South Korean President Park Chung Hee. Though the North Korean plot was ultimately thwarted, the near-success of the mission sent shockwaves through the South Korean government and military.
In response, the South Korean military devised an audacious counterstrategy: a commando unit would be secretly trained to infiltrate North Korea and assassinate its leader, Kim Il Sung. Thus, Unit 684 was formed, comprising 31 recruits from marginalized backgrounds—many of them from prisons or the streets. These men were transported to Silmido Island, an isolated, rocky outpost off South Korea’s eastern coast, where they were subjected to harsh and grueling military training.
The recruits endured some of the most extreme military training regimens imaginable. According to accounts from former trainers and surviving records, their training was intense, with a focus on physical conditioning, sea survival, and covert tactics. Yang Dong-soo, a former trainer for Unit 684, described how the unit’s members were selected based on their perceived physical abilities. “Many of them had backgrounds as shoeshine boys, newspaper vendors, or cinema workers. The criteria for selection were mostly physical appearance and fitness,” he said.
However, life on Silmido Island was brutal. Communications with the outside world were strictly prohibited, both for the recruits and the trainers, creating an atmosphere of secrecy and confinement. Tragically, the training exercises themselves led to fatalities. One recruit died of exhaustion during sea survival training, and over the years, the unit lost seven members to a combination of desertions, internal conflicts, and execution.
Despite undergoing years of rigorous preparation, the mission to infiltrate North Korea never materialized. As tensions between the two Koreas unexpectedly de-escalated, the planned assassination was abandoned. For the men of Unit 684, this change of fate meant that their future was now uncertain. The initial promises of honorable missions and decent pay quickly evaporated. A 2006 report by the Truth Commission revealed that after just a few months on the island, salary payments ceased, and the recruits were subjected to increasingly substandard living conditions.
As time dragged on and their mission was indefinitely postponed, the men of Unit 684 became increasingly disillusioned. There were rumors that government officials, concerned that the recruits might reveal classified information about the covert operation, had no intention of allowing them to reintegrate into civilian life. Anxiety and despair took hold of the group, who realized that they were likely condemned to remain trapped on the island indefinitely.
On August 23, 1971, the situation reached a boiling point. Desperation turned into revolt, and the commandos of Unit 684 launched a violent uprising against their trainers. The rebellion on Silmido Island was brutal—18 of the commanders overseeing the recruits were killed in the uprising. The mutineers then managed to escape the island, making their way to the mainland.
Upon reaching the mainland, they hijacked a bus en route to Seoul, intending to storm the presidential office, the Blue House (Cheong Wa Dae), in a desperate bid for attention. However, their revolt was short-lived. The bus was intercepted by South Korean security forces, and in the chaotic confrontation that ensued, an explosion on board the bus claimed the lives of most of the commandos. In total, 20 of the mutinous soldiers died that day, leaving only four survivors.
These four men were subsequently arrested and subjected to a secret military trial. On March 10, 1972, they were executed, their remains buried in secret, and the records of their existence erased from public knowledge.
For decades, the South Korean government denied the existence of Unit 684, and the details of the failed mission were buried. The Air Force commanders who had overseen the unit destroyed most of the documents related to the operation, attempting to wipe away any trace of the disaster. The silencing of Unit 684’s story persisted for over 30 years, until a film titled Silmido was released in 2004, sparking renewed interest and raising awareness about the tragic history of the unit.
In the years following the film’s release, the families of the executed commandos sought justice. Compensation lawsuits were filed, some of which resulted in settlements, but the full truth of the events surrounding Unit 684 remained elusive. It wasn’t until a 2022 report by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that the full scope of the human rights violations was brought to light. The report confirmed that the families of the executed soldiers had been denied basic information about their loved ones’ fates and funerals—a gross violation of their rights.
Minister Kim’s apology represents a watershed moment in South Korea’s ongoing process of historical reckoning. The apology not only acknowledges the suffering endured by the soldiers of Unit 684 but also serves as an important recognition of the broader human rights violations that occurred during this dark period in South Korean history.
Alongside the apology, the South Korean military has committed to the recovery and proper burial of the four executed soldiers whose remains have yet to be found. This excavation project, initiated during the October 15 ceremony, reflects the government’s intention to bring closure to the families and to ensure that the fallen soldiers are finally laid to rest with dignity.
The apology also aligns with the recommendations of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which has called on the government to take responsibility for the actions of the past and to ensure that similar injustices are not repeated. The Commission’s 2022 findings painted a grim picture of how the families of Unit 684 were left in the dark, denied any knowledge of the fates of their sons and brothers, and forced to endure decades of uncertainty.
The tragic story of Unit 684 serves as a powerful reminder of the extreme measures taken during the Cold War and the devastating human costs of political and military conflict. The secrecy surrounding the unit, the abandonment of the mission, and the subsequent mutiny underscore the lengths to which governments may go during times of unrest—and the price paid by individuals caught in the middle of those power struggles.
As South Korea continues to confront its past, the formal apology for the Silmido incident marks a pivotal step in addressing historical wrongs and recognizing the sacrifices of those whose stories were hidden for so long. In remembering the tragedy of Unit 684, the nation moves one step closer to ensuring that such dark episodes remain in the past, never to be repeated.
