Landmines

I am currently stationed in the DMZ. This is a place where human hands have barely touched the land since the war ended. Because of that, the DMZ is filled with traces of the past—rusted structures, old barbed wire, and remnants that never disappeared. Among all of them, the most dangerous remains are landmines.

It might sound unbelievable that landmines still exist more than seventy years after the war, but there is constant proof of their presence. That proof comes from the animals living inside the DMZ. Sometimes, while sleeping or working, we hear a sudden loud explosion in the distance. Most of the time, it means a wild animal has stepped on a mine. Occasionally, these moments are even captured on surveillance cameras. One second an animal is walking normally, and the next, it’s gone.

Because of this risk, nothing inside the DMZ happens casually. Whenever we need to enter certain areas to work, a mine detection unit arrives first and clears the path ahead of us. What looks like an ordinary field or dirt road can still hide danger underneath. In the DMZ, the war is technically over, but its consequences are not.

So yes—today’s story is about landmines.

Inside the DMZ, there are several types of mines still present. One of the most well-known is commonly referred to as an anti-personnel mine, often nicknamed an “ankle mine.” It is considered especially cruel because it is designed not necessarily to kill, but to severely injure. The damage it causes often leaves long-term consequences, turning survival into another kind of suffering. Seeing it this way makes you realize how war weapons were designed not just to end lives, but to create lasting burdens.

Another type is the anti-tank mine. As the name suggests, it was originally designed for vehicles rather than people. Even today, these mines remain buried, invisible, and dangerous, despite having no role in modern daily life.

There are also mines designed to reveal location when triggered. Instead of causing immediate damage, they signal where movement has occurred. Even these, decades later, still serve as reminders that every step in the DMZ matters.

As a side note, I’ve heard that some of the mines used more recently by North Korea are shaped like leaves, blending in naturally with the environment. That detail alone shows how easily danger can hide in plain sight.

To deal with all of this, mine detection units carry out careful and systematic work before anyone else enters an area. We don’t see the details of what they do, and honestly, we don’t need to. Just knowing that someone has checked the ground before us is enough to remind us where we are.

Working in the DMZ is strange. On the surface, it feels quiet, even peaceful. Animals roam freely, and nature has reclaimed the land. But beneath that calm surface lies something else—evidence that the war never fully left. And every time we hear an explosion echo through the trees, we’re reminded that in the DMZ, the past is still very much present.