North Korean conscripts are reportedly enduring dire living conditions, ranging from critical ammunition shortages to chronic malnutrition, according to multiple accounts from defectors. Despite official claims that the military remains a national priority under leader Kim Jong-un, testimony from former soldiers and broader research demonstrates a starkly different reality, in which troops receive only a handful of bullets for training and survive on rations that sometimes include moldy rice.
A South Korean state-run research institute recently released a study titled “Military Life of North Korean People,” collating interviews with 27 defectors, both men and women, who served under Kim’s regime. One defector who served in the North Korean army until 2015 described receiving merely three bullets per shooting drill, sometimes fewer. According to his testimony, a guard post housing two squads would share just 50 rounds in total, leaving each soldier with only about three bullets per session. While hitting all targets sometimes earned an extra bullet, such trivial allocations made meaningful rifle practice nearly impossible.
In place of real ammunition, many soldiers were handed a tiny, needle-like device to simulate firing. The scarcity also extended to gear: Multiple defectors recalled being issued a single uniform and only a few undershirts, with steel helmets rarely provided. Although the Kim Jong-un regime has emphasized bolstering the military, numerous firsthand accounts suggest that critical “expendable materials” seldom reach frontline troops.
If ammunition is lacking, the situation with food seems even more alarming. Nearly all defectors interviewed mentioned severe food shortages, recalling meals so poor in quality that moldy rice and watery soup were routine. One former navy conscript described receiving only corn powder instead of whole kernels, forcing him to eat what he called “blue-green mold” on occasion. Another claimed that soybean paste soup was served only on better days; otherwise, soldiers got salted water or watered-down soy sauce.
A recurring theme is that even these meager rations are inconsistent, driving some soldiers to rely on money or packages from family—if they’re fortunate enough to receive any—to stave off hunger. Others recounted being mobilized for farm work in a desperate attempt to grow enough food.
Insights from defectors underscore that North Korean troops face not just shortages, but also long, grueling service periods. Historically, service has been viewed as a pathway to joining the Workers’ Party, yet the length of conscription—often stretching close to a decade—has led many to question its benefits. Some defectors say they witnessed more soldiers resorting to self-harm or desertion to escape the harsh environment.
In addition, “external ties” remain strictly limited. Soldiers rarely receive leave; only family emergencies or special commendations may grant them a brief visit home. This isolation leaves them unprepared for the deteriorating conditions many discover when they do return, especially during times of acute national food shortages. The shock of witnessing loved ones struggling—sometimes to the point of starvation—has driven an increase in unauthorized absences and desertions.
Civilian-military relations also appear strained. Defectors describe a vicious cycle: Soldiers, struggling with hunger, sometimes scavenge from local communities. Civilians, in turn, grow fearful and resentful, accusing troops of raiding livestock or food supplies. While the government attempted to address tensions by highlighting slogans about “military-civilian unity,” anecdotal evidence suggests these efforts offer scant practical relief for either side.
Service conditions vary by proximity to resources, rank, and connections. Those with “money or influence,” as some defectors put it, can sometimes bypass standard assignment routes or secure posts with better supply lines. Conversely, those without social capital endure the harshest realities of conscripted life, a disparity that contributes to deepening disillusionment within the ranks.
Publicly, the Kim Jong-un regime continues to emphasize its “military-first” policy, known domestically as “Songun.” However, defectors’ testimonies paint a picture of chronic under-provisioning. Reports suggest that, while the state may allocate resources on paper, corruption and mismanagement often siphon them away before they reach ordinary conscripts. In this regard, the North Korean armed forces mirror broader societal struggles, where food and basic necessities have been in short supply for decades.
Analysts also point to an internal contradiction in North Korea’s approach. Even though the government places extreme emphasis on military might, it appears less capable—or willing—to adequately feed and equip the rank-and-file. Over time, these conditions erode morale, forcing many to question the official narrative that presents the Korean People’s Army as a pillar of national pride.
Such is the day-to-day life of North Korean conscripts: scarce bullets, moldy rice, unrelenting labor, and isolation from the outside world. Even as the regime continues to tout its military achievements, the reality on the ground tells a very different story of survival and deprivation. I guess, Waldo here would be the systemic mismatch between North Korea’s militaristic rhetoric and its actual resource allocation. In other words, the regime loudly proclaims its “military-first” policy but fails to deliver basic necessities like bullets and food. Layers of corruption, mismanagement, and nepotism siphon off what little the state does provide, leaving ordinary conscripts stranded with minimal supplies. This fundamental contradiction—touting a powerful army while neglecting its rank-and-file—permeates every aspect of North Korean military life, creating a vicious cycle of shortages, low morale, and deepening disillusionment.