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2nd Infantry Division (2id), Korean War Veterans Alliance welcome you to visit this site. If you or someone you know served with or was attached to the 2ID during the three year Korean War, click on and print our application and use it as needed. |
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2nd Infantry Division (2id), Korean War Veterans Alliance welcome you to visit this site. If you or someone you know served with or was attached to the 2ID during the three year Korean War, click on and print our application and use it as needed. |
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I have selected the following war stories from our newsletter. Stories will be selected at random from a mixture of our units and dates of action. More will be added as time allows. Started 11/7/99
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There is an old saying that holds that the ability to laugh and/or the ability to have a sense of humor can save your life. Although the POW experience, by any measure is horrible and deadly, there are times when the prisoners can, by themselves, make it so they are able to survive, no matter what, as long as they can see both sides of the coin.
In the summer of 1953, The peace talks were going pretty good and things were going a little better in the camp. We were in Camp four, located in Wiwon, North Korea. One morning, we noticed a Chinese guard over in the corner with a fly swatter. We watched him and he would swat a fly, pick it up and put it in a little envelope. Pretty soon, he would swat another fly and put that in an envelope. They were always doing some strange things so we didn't pay much attention to him. But the next day, we saw another guard swatting flies and doing the same thing. Now our curiosity got the best of us so we asked one of the camp instructors what they were doing. He told us that they have a fly killing project and they were going to make China the most fly free country in the world. He stated that it was the duty for the citizen, soldier, student, everyone to participate. We recalled that a few years before they had a starling killing campaign as the starlings were eating all the grain in the fields. So they waged this war and killed all the starlings only to find out that the insects now were eating all the grain. They must not have learned much from that.
O.K., now they were going to kill flies, and we asked the instructor why they were saving the dead flies? He told us that as an incentive, everybody gets points for the number of flies they turn in. They were working to get enough points to receive a Mao Tse-tung Badge from the camp commander. One of our GIs popped up and asked why can't the POWs collect flies? The instructor told us that he would think about it. A few days later at the morning formation, it was announced that any one of us who would like to participate in this campaign could participate on a voluntary basis, you just raise your hands and they would be issued a fly swatter. He also announced that as an incentive to kill flies, they would give that man a factory made cigarette for every 200 flies turned in. So everyone raised their hand. The next day everybody was swatting flies and saving them. Some of the people, including myself played poker for flies, "I'll call your 4 flies and raise you three"' however the flies were getting kind of worn out being pushed around the table. In any case, the Chinese did keep their word and we started to get a real cigarette. It was difficult to get 200 flies, you could swat for an entire day and get less than 50. We had one fellow, a very enterprising soldier who raised the stakes.
We had been recently issued new socks. We really didn't need them as we had been without them for so long. This soldier took his sock and slowly unraveled it into a long string and he then made a very finely woven net, like a fish net. He was very talented, for he designed a net that looked like a fish-trap, you know like a minnow trap where they get in through a small opening but can't find their way out. He took that out to the slit trench latrine and set it over one of the holes. On the first day, he caught over 500 flies. He would put hot water on them and kill them. We were very skeptical whether the Chinese could honor their commitment, but to our surprise, they did, they paid him off with cigarettes. Immediately, everyone was trying to make a fly trap. One day, I almost got into a fight, for when I went out to do my business, all 6 holes in the latrine were covered with various types of fly traps. I picked up one and put it aside and sat down to do some contemplation's. Immediately a man came over and asked what did I think I was doing? I told him it was obvious what I was doing. He told me to move and use one of the other holes and move somebody else's trap. By this time, we were turning in so many flies, that every night we could look up on the hill and see the Chinese Nurses up at headquarters, holding chop sticks, counting flies and keeping records.
Apparently the administrative work had become so much that it was announced that they would no longer count flies, they would weigh them. They got a very fine scale, like a jewelers scale, and weighed 200 flies that set the quota. They cheated a bit, but what ever our reward it was better than nothing. Then they stopped collecting them from us on the day they were caught, but instead waited to the next day, as the flies that are saved overnight tend to dry out and doesn't weigh nearly as much as a fresh fly. This caused us a real dilemma for how were we going to keep the weight on the flies overnight. To retain the moisture level, some of the fellows took a little piece of cloth and wet it and laid it over the dead flies until just before collection. A lot of things were tried, some worked, some didn't.
The one system that did work was made by one of my friends who was called "Sake" as that was all he drank when he was in Tokyo. He continued to swat flies and became a real expert. He had a piece of goat skin which he smeared with dregs from the latrine and sit it outside in the hot sun. He would sit there and wait for the flies to land. He would swat the big bluegreen flies you know, big. He was an artist, for he would hit them just right so they would roll over dead, he didn't squash them. I asked him what he was doing with them and he said, "Chick, come over to my hut tonight night and I will show you something special." I went over that night and he was there, bent over a little bench with his flies and he had a small flat sharp piece of metal. He told me that while he was on a work detail down at the riverbank, he had found a couple of toothpaste tubes © the old kind that were made of lead-foil. He was taking this tool, cutting a thin strip of the metal from the tube, and then rolling it up, and inserting it into the flies body via the rear. I believe that the Chinese never did find out why his flies weighed so much. He was, in my opinion the Lord of the Chinese flies.
My first enlistment was with the11th Airborne Division, from August 1947 to March 1950. After a break of 75 days, I re-enlisted. The Korean War started less than a month later.
My intention was to pick the
Army post nearest home, which was Ft. Lewis. The outfit there
was the 2nd Infantry Division. Although I had been a telephone
lineman in the 511th Airborne Signal, I ended up in L Company,
23rd Infantry Regiment as a runner. My job was to take care of
the telephone wire and radio for the 3rd Platoon.
I landed at Pusan on 5 August 1950 and left Korea on 5 February 1951. 1 was wounded three times and the last hit got me back to the States where I spent 11 months in Letterman Army Hospital. l chose to stay in the Army until 1956 and then enlisted in the Air Force. In July 1970 I went to Danang, Vietnam. Five months later a 120 mm rocket hit the truck I was on. l was medevaced to Wilford Hall Air Force Medical Center for recuperation and was there when I was retired for disability. That ended 24 years active duty - 9 years Army and 15 years Air Force.
Last May 1997 I went with 27 other combat veterans from the 2nd Infantry Division back to Korea to visit the places where we had fought. The U.S.O. in Seoul donated a bus, a driver and an English-speaking tour guide who was with us for two weeks. During this trip we visited all the places our division had been. We were taken by the South Korean Army in jeeps and trucks to three different places along the DMZ The U.N. Security Force escorted us to Panmunjon, where we were allowed to take pictures of all the places you read about. This was not the case with the Korean Army, which was very strict with us about where we could go and what we could photograph.
We started and ended our tour at Camp Casey, base of the 9th Infantry Regiment and the 72nd Tank Battalion. We stayed at Casey Lodge, which is a very nice facility for visitors. Casey is northeast of Seoul, just 10 miles south of the 38th Parallel. The 2nd Infantry Division, now in its 47th year of continuous duty in Korea, is on line at the DMZ just north of Camp Casey.
The first thing that impressed me was the traffic and the cleanliness. I saw no trash along the road and no graffiti anywhere. I'm not talking just about Seoul, but everywhere we went in the two weeks we were there. If there is poverty in Korea, we did not see it, and we traveled to some of the most remote places in the south along the Naktong River, where I had seen my first combat.
The country is laced by 4-lane expressways that connect all the major-cities. There are rest stops every 30 miles. They all have restaurants, curioshops, and fast food. We learned that 1,000 Wan is close to a dollar, and 500 Wan got you a cup of coffee, a candy bar, or an ice cream bar, and if you asked for it in English, you would get what you wanted. All the people we came in contact with were very friendly, when they found out who we were and why we came back to their country. We were treated with much respect.
We had several examples of how much these people still appreciate the sacrifice we made for them. On the way south to the Pusan Perimeter, we took the expressway from Seoul to Taejon, and another from Taejon to Taegu. We had stopped at a rest stop. I was waiting to get back on the bus. An old Korean man came up to me and looked at my hat and name tag with the 2nd Division patch on it. He started talking to me in Korean, shaking my hand, hugging me, and crying all at the same time. A young man came over to us and, in very good English, he said, "Please forgive my grandfather. He wants to tell you that he was one of our soldiers. He was attached to your division at the start of the war and he fought along with you very close to where we are right now. The old man started talking again, excitedly. I asked what he was saying, and the young man said, "He wants to thank you for saving our country."
As the young man and his grandfather left, a young man with two pretty girls and a baby came over to me and the man said, "We heard what the old man said to you and we want you to know that we feel the same way." They asked me if they could take my picture, and I in turn took a picture of the two pretty girls and the baby.
A week later we were on our way from Chunchon to visit Pamnunjon. We stopped at small town south of there to visit a war museum. I was sitting on the steps, resting. A young couple with three children asked me if I would let them take my picture with the children. After they took the pictures I got them to take another one with my camera. The man's English was not good, but he made sure I knew the reason why they wanted the picture. "We want our children to know that you were one of the brave Americans who gave so much for our freedom," he said and the whole family bowed deeply to me.
The first thing I saw, on the way to Camp Casey from Kimpo airport, was the Han River. Today there are twelve bridges across the Han.
---1950---
(The last week of September I crossed the Han on the only bridge. It was a pontoon bridge that had been put across by the engineers. I saw a line of white-clad Korean refugees trying to cross from the north bank of the river over the girders of a bridge with one span down near the south shore. Many of them fell into the river, and we saw their bodies floating under the pontoons as we passed over them. There must have been a thousand.)
High-rise apartments are going up in every city, and new road construction is going on everywhere. Mechanized farming seems to be the norm. Every farmer seems to have a tractor or cultivator. Everywhere I looked I saw a farmer with a pick-up truck in his driveway. The shacks that I remember have been replaced with brick and cinder block houses with red, blue, or brown tile roofs. Everywhere there are miles and miles of greenhouses up the side of the hills. Our guide, Mr. Han, said that Korea grows fruits and vegetables year round. They export produce and import rice. He said that many farmers have become wealthy doing this.
At Camp Casey we spent one day watching demonstrations of infantry and armored equipment and tactics in their training facilities. I got to fire a hand-launched, laser guided, anti-tank missile. I blew up a moving tank at 1,200 yards with one shot. The most interesting part to me were the Field Combat Simulators in which we got to drive and fire the M-1 A1 Abrams Tank, as well as APC'S. Everything is done with simulators that have computer-guided moving terrain systems with video displays that change all the time. The instructor operates the enemy tanks and the artillery, which of course are firing at you. This makes for a very feeling like a real combat situation. Our instructor told us that this was as close as they can get outside of actual combat. It is a very effective training tool.
Just off Camp Casey in Tonduchon is the VFW Post 9985. There is also a country and western place in town, called the Las Vegas Club, which is a favorite hang-out for both male and female troops. VFW 9985 put on a barbecue dinner for us, and dedicated their lounge to Ronald Rosser, the only Medal of Honor winner to go on the tour. At the Las Vegas Club 2nd Division troops put on a very beautiful ceremony to honor Ron and our group.
On the last day before we left Korea, the Commanding General of the 2nd Division, ***Tommy Franks and Tae Wan Chang, Major General, ROKA, (Ret.), local President of the Korean Veterans Association, hosted a dinner in our honor. General Chang presented to 17 of the U.S. combat veterans the "Ambassador for Peace Medal." The other ten in our group had received their medals on previous visits.
The medal is regulation size. We also received miniature medals to wear on lapels or shirts. At the bottom is a 1-1/2" round gold shield with the Victoria Cross and a ruby mounted in the center. A reef of leaves runs around the bottom outer edge and "Ambassador for Peace" is written around the outer edge of the top. The ribbon has six vertical stripes, each 3/16" wide that are (from left to right) red, yellow, purple, blue, white, and orange. At the top is a replica of our Presidential Unit Citation Ribbon, with the words "Korean War Veteran" in gold letters across the center of the purple background. The medal and miniature are mounted in a purple velvet case, on a red velvet base, with a spring-loaded lid. I'm curious to know how much each one of these cost the Korean government.
On our third day, we traveled 2-1/2 hours down to Chipyong-ni. In 1955, the ROK 5th Division erected a monument there to honor the 23rd Infantry. For those of us who survived the battle, it was very moving to stand there again after all these years.
----1951----
From 14 to 17 February the 23rd Infantry Regiment, and the French Battalion, were surrounded by six divisions of the Chinese 36th Army. The 23rd, commanded by Col. Freeman, with a strength of only 1,000 men, held against impossible odds of an unbelievable 60 to 1.
Seven miles west of Chip-yong-ni was a line of hills, with the railroad from Wonju to Chip-yong-ni running along the north side and through two tunnels, the last of-which opened into the outskirts of the town.
The month of January had been spent capturing the city of Wonju and consolidating our positions just north of Wonju. My company was lucky enough to have had very limited contact with the Chinese, or North Koreans during this time
On 28 January Able Company, 23rd Regiment, was sent up the road to Chip-yong-ni to see if there were any Chinese up there. When they came abreast of these first hills with the twin tunnels they were ambushed b the Chinese and suffered heavy casualties.
On the last day of January we left our positions and joined the rest of our 3rd battalion. With the French Battalion we headed up the road to Twin Tunnels to locate and engage the Chinese who had hit able Company.
The French were at full strength with 600 men, but we in the 3rd battalion had half that number, after escaping from Kunuri, North Korea My squad was supposed to have 12 men, but when we got out, we only had 3 men and we only got 3 replacements, fresh online with no combat experience. That was the situation we were in when we dug in that afternoon along that string of hills, after having made no contact.
Just after midnight, the lead elements of a Chinese Division were able to work their way through our line. Of the three of us in my squad (hat( of our squad), the rifleman would be MIA, possibly a POW, my ammo bearer would be dead and I would be wounded and left for dead by the Chinese who took the hill we were on after we got separated from our company.
The details of what happened to me there are in an article I have titled; "Twin Tunnels, My Last Day," which has been placed lathe national archives.
After we loaded on the bus at Chip-yong-ni, we entered the town, saw the last tunnel, and crossed the tracks heading out into a valley. There were only two of us on the bus who had been in the Battle of Twin Tunnels, so it was up to us to identify that string of hills. The other man, Jack T. Willis, was from the company that had been ambushed on that first patrol before we went up there.
After ten minutes I saw the hills several miles distant from us. They were unmistakable to me. There to the right was where K Company had been, with the sharp peak, and the saddle where I had been, with L Company on the center hill and I Company on the hill to the left near the tunnels.
The driver stopped the bus. I took the public address microphone from our tour guide and explained what we were looking at. We all got out of the bus to take pictures and one of the men took my picture standing by the guard rail at the edge of the road with Twin Tunnels behind me. This was the reason I made this trip. Here it was 46 years later, and all the memories came flooding back to me. I am not ashamed to tell you that I stood there and cried.
Our leader, who had planned this trip, told us that the small army post at Wonju didn't have any place to put us up for the night, and in fact had only had a small snack-bar where we could eat. To get a hotel was just too expensive, so he had planned to go back to Casey Lodge for the night.
Our leader, Joe Hess, from Able Company, 23rd, and his wife, Rosemarie, got our sack lunches together. In the '50s Rosemarie had been a beautiful nurse at Letterman and had taken care of me. We had called her "Cleopatra." After an early breakfast at the USO we loaded on the bus, and headed for Seoul. All the ladies (seven of them) were really happy about shopping and wanted our tour guide to show us the city with the bus. Well, all we did was spend a half hour at the USO, resting and stocking up on film. It seems that we had spent too much time at Casey. If we spent a day in Seoul we would have to give up one of our three trips to the DMZ or part of the Pusan Perimeter. We decided on our course of action by putting it to a vote. The ladies lost.
We were able to make it to the army base at Taegu by dinner time and get our rooms. Couples had a room to themselves, but the singles were four to a room. l found out that I am not the only one who snores. Another guy and I could really rattle the windows.
----1950----
On 16 September 1950 1 was hit by 120 mm mortar shrapnel while on night patrol out to the Naktong. They sent me back to the MASH at Mirlyang. The fragment had hit my helmet, gone through it, and grazed my left forehead All it did was scalp me and give me a concussion. It didn't even fracture my skull They just shaved my hair off, stitched my scalp back down and fed me some good food. I saw some movies and got some sleep which I really needed. Four days later they sent me back on line to L Company with an olive drab bandage on my head and a note to our Medic, James Bear, telling him that he could look after my stitches, and that I was not to wear a helmet until the scar was well healed.
Now, 46 years later at Taegu, we were headed for Miriyang. The Naktong River runs southeast of Taegu, and then south, emptying into the Korean Strait at Mason, 50 miles east of Pusan. Mirlyang is 50 miles south of Taegu, and 20 miles east of the Naktong. We all wanted to see the Naktong where my company had been. We were told by our leader, Joe Hess, that we were going to spend at least two, or even three, days at Taegu. We would take a secondary road that ran south to Mirlyang, from the expressway exit 20 miles east of Taegu. It was a two-lane road, but just barely. It ran over the mountains all the way. It took us the whole day to get to Miriyang, and return. When we got to Mirlyang there was nothing that 1, or anyone else, could recognize. The little town didn't even have sidewalks. The streets were barely wide enough for our bus and a car. People had to step into doorways when we went by. l take my hat off to our driver. He was good, and so was his horn, though it about drove us nuts. Koreans who drive cars in those small towns stick out their hand and all it means is that they are going to do something.
On the second day, we took the road that ran east, then south along the Naktong, as Joe had promised. This road, although only two-lanes, was in very good condition and ran along the Naktong, crossing the river in two places. We went 50 miles, to a place called Chang-Yong where the 38th Regiment got into some very heavy fighting with some very stubborn North Koreans who were holding some real estate called Hill 409. The 38th tried for two weeks to get them off that hill. The North Koreans had good artillery and mortar support and were looking down on everything that the 38th tried to do. They never did lose Hill 409, but left it on their own when they were out-flanked and in danger of being cut off.
We stopped at a small park with some picnic tables. We ate our sack lunch and took pictures of a shrine and Hill 409. We got back on the bus and started around 409 on a one-lane road that shortly turned into dirt road and ended in a trail. Our driver got into an argument with the tour guide - I assume about why we got on that road in the first place. The big problem was how to get the bus turned around, which the driver was able to do, with much advice from the tour guide.
Our group had six men from the 38th Regiment who were in that battle. We were all moved to see Hill 409, as I had been to see Twin Tunnels. We made our way back to Taegu (stopping once to take pictures) in plenty of time to rest before the evening meal.
The next day Joe Hess told us that we would be going by a secondary road north to Wonju, and that we would visit a monument and museum dedicated to the U.S. 24th Division at Tabu, 20 miles east of Taegu. When I heard the word Tabu I couldn't believe my luck. Tabu was where I saw my first day of combat on 23 August 50. ---1950--We were told that a North Korean regiment had broken through the line between the 24th Division and the Republic of Korea division on their right flank. The North Korean outfit had shot up the artillery and other units behind the line The 2nd and 3rd Battalions of the 23rd Regiment were sent up to locate and engage this North Korean regiment.
We received an extraordinary report from an artillery spotter flying a Cessna L-5. He had seen the North Koreans running in formation. The pilot reported their size and the direction they were moving before they dispersed, and took cover.
Our 2nd Battalion went up a day ahead of us, supported by the 24th Division's tank company, and two batteries of 105 mm artillery. They set up an ambush and waited for the North Korean regiment to fall into it. Our battalion, the 3rd, had the job of clearing the hills around the 105s and protecting them as they performed their fire mission that night. We cleared our hill without seeing any enemy. Though this was the only action we saw, the protection we gave them was very important.
At 2300 the firing started and continued for a half hour without stopping. They fired every five minutes for the rest of the night When daylight came there were only 13 North Koreans who had been taken alive from their regiment with a strength of 1,200 men. Our 2nd Battalion suffered only two men wounded, none killed and none missing.
This went on record as the most perfectly executed battalion-size ambush with the largest kill ratio in Army history. I am very proud to have been involved in a small part of this action. The astounding thing is that we were all green men in our first action, with the exception of a small cadre of combat veterans from World War II
When we finished our tour of the museum and monument we loaded back on our bus and headed north to Wonju. It turned out that Lady Luck was not with us. In the mountains, 150 miles north of Taegu, the bus drive shaft broke. We sat there on the side of the road for eight hours until our driver could get a new drive shaft from Taegu. Our driver did all the mechanical work. He had the new drive shaft installed 30 minutes after it came. We had been scheduled to tour Wonju, where I had spent the month of January 1951, but, because of the drive shaft, we had to push on to Camp Casey for the night.
The next day, we were involved in the dedication of a monument to the 38th Infantry Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division, at "Massacre Valley" 20 miles northwest of Wonju. This battle took place from 14 to 17 May 1951 when 30,000 Chinese came out of the hills in human waves from three divisions. The 38th suffered very heavy casualties.
We drove through Wonju on the way to Chunchon, where we stayed three nights on our tour of the DMZ It was hard to believe that I had spent the entire month of January 1951 in and around Wonju. When we went through there the only thing I could recognize was the airport I had been flown out of after I was hit at Twin Tunnels.
On our first day on the DMZ we were met by Korean military police and escorted to an assembly area at the base of Hill 1051, where we were loaded on jeeps. We went up a torturous trail to within 300 yards of the top and walked the rest of the way up to an observation post. The weather was clear. We looked across at Old Baldy, which was in the Neutral Zone. To the right rear was Jane Russell, which was in North Korean hands. We were allowed to take pictures to our front, but not to the side of our own side.
We made our way back down in the jeeps and ate our sack lunches in the bus. We made a short drive, escorted by the MPs, to Hill 1179. Five of us chose to stay with the bus while the others got back in the jeeps and went up 1179. A light rain started falling. On the way out, we passed Bloody Ridge, Heart Break Ridge, and Hill 931.
The next day, we went to a war museum that the ROK Army had set up at Tunnel #3 at the northern edge of the Punch Bowl. We actually went into the tunnel for a quarter of a mile. It is an average of 10 feet in circumference. The North Koreans had installed narrow gauge rails up to the half way point, where the tunnel is now blocked. The Korean Army guide told us that the NKs have dug four tunnels. They apparently want a tunnel there so they can infiltrate to the south and perhaps launch raids. Three of the tunnels have been found and blocked. On the way out we stopped at the White Horse Monument, took pictures, and ate our (by this time "infamous") sack lunches. We went by Arrow Head, Alligator Jaws, T-Bone and Spud.
On our third and last day on the DMZ we met our customary Korean MP escort, who took us to where a bunch of 2-1/2 ton trucks were waiting to take us to Pork Chop, Arsenal and Erie Hills. An Armed Forces camera crew met us at Chun-Chon and I was one of the men they interviewed. The Koreans, to our surprise, told us that we could take all the pictures we wanted, probably because the camera crew was there.
From where we ended up, it was not far to Panmunjon. We spent the afternoon on a U.N. bus with a very well-informed American guide. We went into the building with the conference table where the armistice was signed, and to the Sunken Gardens where North Korean soldiers had attacked an American tree trimming detail with axes and killed an American captain. Our bus took us all around the U.N. perimeter and we went by the "Bridge of No Return," over which the POWs had walked to freedom. One ex-P.O.W. was on the bus: Vince Cobalis, a warrant officer from Heavy Mortar Company, 23rd Infantry. Vince was captured at Massacre Valley.
We got back on our bus and drove south. We stopped at the Korean War Museum where I met the Korean couple with the three children I talked about earlier. From there we drove back to Chun-Chon, where we spent the night, and then returned to Camp Casey. On the way back to Camp Casey the words of the young Korean couple I had met early in the trip kept coming back to me. "We want our children to know that you were one of the brave Americans who gave so much for our freedom," he had said, and the whole family had bowed deeply to me.
A few months ago, while reading my DAV magazine, I noticed an ad for an outfit called the 2nd Infantry Division Korean War Veterans Alliance announcing a reunion. I had been looking for a long time for some of my old buddies who departed to Korea with me from Fort Lewis in August 1950. 1 got the idea that perhaps this could lead me to the past I had been thinking of. I showed the notice to my wife and asked her to read it to me, as I was so excited I couldn't see straight. After I calmed down, she told me to call Tom Eastman whose telephone number and address was on the ad. I did. Let me tell you that the past and many memories came rushing back to me. It turned out that Tom was also from my old company.
I was home on furlough in Oakland, California await- ing my discharge from the 82nd Airborne when I received notice that I was to report to Ft Lewis, Washington immediately following my furlough. On reporting in, I was assigned to the 38th Infantry, C Company. My company commander was Captain Lowry who then assigned me to the 2nd platoon. M/Sgt. Martin Vannoy was my platoon sergeant and leader. Very soon after, the war broke out in Korea and we boarded a ship in Tacoma. It was a rather uneventful crossing with everyone sea-sick and dis- gusted by our luxurious accommodations down in the hold of the ship. We arrived at Pusan late at night, disembarked the next morning, and were immediately deployed to the Naktong perimeter. After 49 years, and if my memory serves me right, there were many skirmishes and high hills battles before we ever got there.
As we were all young and gung-ho, our moral was high even though we were poorly equipped. There was a lot of hand grenades and ammunition clips that were defective as they were WWII vintage. I was issued an M-1 rifle which I soon swapped for a Thompson sub-machine gun. Very soon, Sgt. Vannoy took a patrol out forward which included me, Milford Cleckley and Lee Purcell. I believe that it was our first baptism of fire. I might note here that we went out on that patrol as privates and when the battle was over, we were made Sergeants and Vannoy was given a battlefield commission and became a 2nd Lt. Ten days later, Lt. Vane took us out on another patrol where we were overrun by the North Koreans. We fell back to safer ground and there was confusion all around. I had been wound- ed by shrapnel in my neck and back and was on my way to the Air Station when I heard someone say that Vane was hit and was not with us. I can't really describe my thoughts or emotions on hearing this, bit I jumped into the nearest jeep and was on my way back to get the man who was not only my Lieutenant, but also a man who I considered as my best buddy. There was shooting and shelling as I drove back to get him. When I spotted him, he was badly wounded and unconscious. I got him in my jeep and drove back to what I hoped was safety. Even today, I don't know how I accomplished what I did, but unfortunately Lt. Vane died of his wounds, in a hospital in Japan. As for myself, I stayed at the aid station, had the shrapnel taken out, bandaged and returned to my unit. I received a medal for that action. but you must know that I would far more have my buddy alive and well.
As we pushed north, the weather was getting worse. We had not been issued winter clothing or equip- ment. Many men were freezing and I had frostbite on the top of my feet. Even so, we pushed past the 38th parallel, went through the Capital of North Korea, Pyongyang, and pushed further north when, all of the sudden, we were overrun by the Chinese Army who came throwing everything at us, scream- ing and blowing their bugles. At this point, military history says that we "made a strategic retreat", but we know that we were scared out of our wits and ran like hell, fighting every inch of the way.
Soon after this, the "Korean Conflict" came to an end for me, and like our general told us, "You'll be home by Christmas" I was. In this retreat operation, I was shot through my legs and groin. I was medically evacuated to Japan and in December 1950 sent back to the USA. I was in San Francisco's Letterman General Hospital where I spent the rest of my enlistment until discharge.
I am sifting at home dreaming of and looking eagerly towards seeing my old buddies again. Those that shared all the misery and suffering along with me. I also pray that those who never made it back will, in spirit and understanding - will be at the reunion with me.
********
It was January 28, 1951. I had been with my platoon for five days. The platoon leader, Lieutenant Mitchell, called us into his hut and informed us that we would be going on a motorized patrol the next day. He emphasized that it would be dangerous since a patrol had gone into the same region on the 28th without finding the enemy. (This account differs from one in the Summer 1998 Bulletin in which the writer says that A of the 23rd had been beat-up at the Twin Tunnels on the 28th. Don Byers told me that he was on the patrol on the 28th which was untouched). The next morning, January 29, 1951, after breakfast the vehicles were assembled for the patrol and my squad leader went on sick call. The rest of my squad, all newcomers, loaded up for the trip. I started out in the second jeep but that was to change later.
Somewhere along the way we picked up a walking patrol from the 24th division and loaded them onto our vehicles. Shortly after that the lead jeep suffered a flat tire and its occupants traded places with those of us in the second jeep and they went on without us.
Our jeep had a spare tire but no lug wrench. We found an open end wrench which was a little bit too large, but by shimming it up with a match pad we were able to get the nuts off and change the wheel. By this time we had probably lost an hour. We sped up and overtook the patrol where the road split to Chipyong-ni on the left and who knows where on the right. The people from the 24th division dismounted at this point and started down the road to the right. We proceeded toward Chipyong-ni.
We reached a small village just west of the railroad tracks and the Lieutenant called a lunch break. A mortar round came in at that time and lunch was called off. We could see a column of infant-walking along the sky line in a direction that would put them in position to cut off our retreat. A young corporal named Gibbons asked Lt. Mitchell if he could fire upon them and he emptied a belt of .50 ammo at the column without making any effect. The drivers were ordered to turn all of the vehicles around so we could break out. During this time a young 2nd Lieutenant named Penrod was walking up and down our column as cool as he could be, trying to locate an enemy machine gunner who was firing upon us at close range.
A Sergeant Larson sent me up a hill with three other privates and told me to dig in but we had just reached the top when we were told to come back down. Once the vehicles were turned around we were ordered to move out but the driver in the lead jeep panicked as soon as his vehicle was hit and he jammed on his brakes, bailed out and stalled the column.
Everyone jumped off the vehicles and dove into the ditches and took positions facing north. Gibbons saw that one of the group had lost his weapon and sent him back toward the vehicles to get it. The man never came back.
We heard a burst of machine gun fire and then silence. Then came another burst of machine gun fire and the sound of coolant draining from a radiator. They had effectively stopped us from leaving on the motor vehicles.
Soon after the sound of the dripping stopped a Chinese soldier came walking boldly down the road. I should have shot him but I did not. He saw me and turned towards me with his weapon firing. This time I did shoot, all 8 rounds in the M-1 and he went down. He was there the next day when I left the village.
The Chinese then launched an attack in force from some unseen positions to the north. We broke up their charge with rifle fire and then the planes showed up to help, aided by a spotter in a Piper Cub. It seemed as though the planes were there each time an attack came and mostly we were shooting at heads as they looked up from what seemed to be a trench in the hill closest to us on the north. At one time a group of three civilian men came running down the road from the direction of Chipyong and we let them into our area. They disappeared into the huts during one spell of heavy firing and we never saw them again. I was apprehensive about this but I could not shoot them and neither would anyone else in my group.
We became aware we were not hearing gunfire from the east end of the village and we decided to go there and check things out. I remember that a hill of some sort divided the village and we had to go over that under fire to get to the east end but we made it without injuries. There was no one there. We had been left behind.
We saw parachutes being dropped on a hill to the south of our position and we started out to try to reach that hill. That was the last time I saw most of them again. We had just started out when we came under heavy fire. I could see the snow kicking up from the bullets and then I was hit in the right shin. I saw one of my friends going down at the same time and the others kept on going. I called to my friend and found out that he was unhurt. After that we did not talk again. I soon heard the crunch of snow as someone walked up on me and my weapon was taken from my hand. I rolled over and put my hands in the air. The Chinese soldier thrust his weapon toward me but to my immense good fortune he did not fire. I then called to my friend and he stood up. We had lain under machine gun fire for some time but the gunner was unable to depress it low enough to hit us again. The bullets passed low enough for us to hear their passing but were not hurt.
The little man who initiated our capture stayed with us. It was necessary to get me off the slope where I had been injured but that presented a problem. My friend was about my height but our captor was about five feet tall. It was decided I would wrap my arms around my friend's neck and that he would drag me off the slope. I hung on and was hauled down the slope with my broken leg bumping along the ground as he stumbled down hill with me hanging on. When we got to the road he was marched away immediately. I guess they killed him. He was found dead later, I guess. The casualty report listed him as DOD I suppose that means Died on Duty. There was a lot of milling around by the Chinese troops as I lay on the road. Occasionally one would check my wrist to see if I had a watch and another would make a gesture as to strike me but my captor stopped it from happening.
After some time the Chinese decided to burn the vehicles. They got straw from the roofs of the huts of the village and spread it on the jeeps and weapons carriers and then poured the jerry cans of gasoline on the straw. They set it afire and then they ran off. I did not see them again.
I crawled into one of the huts and pulled a straw mat over me. I spent a restless night in the hut wondering if the enemy would return. They did not.
The next morning I crawled out of the hut to the road. I pulled myself up on the bumper of the lead jeep and relieved myself. About this time some of our planes started to bomb the tunnels. I saw the bombs drop but I did not hear them explode. I must have been too terrified to remember it. I decided that I should leave the village. I had pulled myself out of the hut by using my hands to lift me as I pushed backward with my left foot. This method did work for short range travel but it obviously would not work for long distances so I rolled over on to my belly. I used my hands and elbows to pull me along and I set out in the direction from which we had come.
I saw the Chinese soldier I had shot the day before lying face up in the ditch on the east side. One of his friends had thrown some straw over him but it barely covered his body. I also saw the body of a US soldier in the village on the north side of the road. His head was bare and his hands and feet were bare. I could see the name on his helmet liner - A Anderson. This was the guy that Gibbons had sent to retrieve his weapon.
A plane strafed and bombed the huts to the northwest where the Chinese started their attack. The Chinese were long gone but he rendered the buildings useless for cover in the future.
It was well that I left the village when I did for a decision was made to make sure that the Chinese could not use the vehicles. The village was obliterated by bombing an hour or so after I left it.
I do not know how far I crawled. When I was young and macho I thought it was several miles but it was probably a little over a mile. I do know that I crawled through a small stream that ran across the road. The temperature had warmed up and the water was running. My gloves got soaked and my hands froze. The coloring in the gloves ran and my hands turned black. I thought they were gangrenous when I pulled the gloves off later but it was only the dye in the gloves. The frostbite of the hands was minor. My feet suffered far more serious frostbite because the boot liners retained the moisture from my feet sweating.
I crawled and slept alternately that day. Sometime in the afternoon I saw some fighter planes strafing the hills south and east of the tunnels. I crawled out of a ditch and waved to them. One of the pilots saw me and turned his plane my way. When I saw the fire on the leading edge of his wings I knew he thought I was the enemy. I crawled to the west side of the road and there was enough of a hump in the land between the plane and me that he did not get a clear shot. He released a rocket or two and then fired some more rockets into a dwelling father west. He was so close I could see him in the cockpit when he leveled off. When he left I crawled across the road to the east and into a ditch in the rice paddy. I was learning a lot about war and friendly fire though it was not called that in 1951.
I lay in the ditch all night and crawled back to the road at first light. I did not attempt to crawl down the road again because of the experience with the plane. Some Korean civilians walked by heading north but they offered no help.
I was napping in the afternoon when I was awakened by cannon fire. Some tanks had pulled up on the frozen rice paddy to the east and were firing at the hills that the planes had been strafing the day before. Operation Killer was beginning.
A jeep pulled up and a man with field glasses got out to observe the effect of the cannon fire. This was my opportunity to get rescued if it was going to happen. I rolled on to the road with my hands in the air. The jeep pulled forward and the man who had been observing got out with a carbine pointing at me. He shouted and asked who I was. I shouted back that I was from C Company from a patrol that was lost Monday. The jeep came all the way up to me and the driver, a corporal, got out and lifted me into the front passenger seat and put my injured leg out on the fender. The second man, a handsome Captain with a black beard sat in back. I was driven back to the battalion aid station to have my wound dressed. (The medic was the brother of a buddy of mine from my first enlistment and was a dead ringer for him. He was later captured himself and exchanged in 1953. Larry Wilson of Hazel Park, Michigan.)
I was a celebrity for a few minutes. I was interviewed by a Major and then by a Brigadier General. I guess they doubted my estimate of enemy strength because the 23rd was led into Chipyong and the rest is history.
I also saw a guy from my squad at the aid station, a Guamanian boy named Guillermo (Billy) Untalan, our assistant B.A.R. man. His story was that he was injured in our mad rush to off the weapons carrier and was pushed under the rear tire as it was moving. His leg was not broken but the thigh was severely bruised and he could not run. When we made the break to the east end of the village he was left behind. The Chinese overran him and because of his oriental features they thought he was one of them. He walked out under the cover of darkness and reached help later. He asked about his buddy, Miller, but I knew nothing. Miller was later listed as dead on the casualty report for 1-29-51 as were Rudy Scateni, Richard Norman and Cenkowski, the other members of our under strength squad.
I spent the night in a school house as we waited to be evacuated. There was a Korean girl whose leg had been amputated at the thigh on a pallet next to me who cried all night while a man tried to console her. The next day we were loaded into an ambulance and taken to an air strip. Since we were driven north to the field I assume it was Suwon, which was in the hands of the enemy when we started out. I read later that fighting was going on taking place on one side of the field while our planes were landing on the other side. I can not confirm this, but the story was in either the Army Times or Stars & Stripes in February of 1951.
We flew to a field outside of Pusan where we were put on a train for transport into the city. I remember the Air Force kids who were handling the stretchers complaining that it was past 5 p.m. and they were still working. The infantry fights a different kind of war, friends.
A surgeon working alone operated on my leg to remove the debris from the wound and a cast was put on it from thigh to toe to immobilize all the joints. The next day I was on a plane to Japan.
I spent two weeks in a hospital in Hakata, Japan and then I was moved to Osaka to start the trip home. We stopped at Wake Island in the middle of the night and then we landed in Hawaii. Then on to California, Illinois and then Percy Jones in Battle Creek, Michigan. My leg healed and then I was returned to the Inactive Reserve on 8-10-51. I had been recalled on 11-12-50 and had spent an interesting nine months on active duty. I stopped in at the Chevrolet factory in Flint on my way home and hired in again and went back to work on Monday. It had been exactly one year (8-11-50) since I had graduated from college so let us say I had spent a very interesting year.
********
In the spring of '53, the 72d Tank Battalion moved to the Chorwon area. I put Charlie Company command post into a very small draw created by ridges that lay parallel to the Main Line of Resistance (as we used to know what is today called the FEBA). The protecting ridge was low and offered minimal protection from enemy artillery. Thus we would have to hug closest to it.
"First Sergeant, we are in very close quarters here and that means that we have a sanitation problem. Tell everyone that, if he has to take a dump, it is to be taken downhill from the mess tent. By the way, did you bring that scrap-corrugated metal that we had in the old CP, and could you use it to build an enclosed latrine? It would protect the mess." First soldier said that he could and would.
The platoon leaders and tank commanders spent the day reconnoitering tank positions that we were to assume that night. I did, too, and Hagren (my driver) and I were out until about 0330 getting everything just so. Before falling into a deep sleep, I asked to be awakened at first light so that we could get on the road again in order to check out our night's work by daylight. It was just after first light when I stepped out, only to find everyone grinning at me. I followed the eyes of these Happy Campers to see a metal shack that had not been there earlier. First Soldier had been busy. He positively beamed. "How 'bout THAT, sir? It is a three-holer. And there is a one-holer for the officers!" No wonder they were all grinning: our very first enclosed latrines! And enemy artillery should CLEAR them! Barely, perhaps, but CLEAR them!
We settled almost immediately into a routine. During the hours of darkness, someone was detailed to pour some fuel down each hole to burn out the waste. That way we hoped that any smoke that would alert enemy observers would dissipate before first light.
Platoon leader Big John Portera (yes, you remember him from his first tour in Korea) loved this structure and visited it for at least the length of a cigarette every day before first light. One day he was enjoying this activity when the detail guy approached, saying, "Lt Portera I
"Don't bother me now. I am busy."
"But, sir, I
"Damn it, I said don't bother me. I am BUSY!"
"Well, sir, I was just going to tell y..."
"I said I am BUSY! Go Away!"
Big John liked to get the last little bit out of his cigarette. Yes, sir, it was just the length of a cigarette later that we heard, "WHO-OMP!" Out flew Big John, frantically rubbing his now-very-tender backside and trying to restore some dignity to his uniform.
"I tried to tell you, sir, I had not yet lit the fuel down in the hole!"
Yup. Just the length of one cigarette. Big John and I had many a later laugh over this one.
Hagren, my driver, and I had been back at the battalion CP for a meeting and now were headed forward to the company CP. I decided that a trail showing on the map would get us there, and we left the MSR to find and follow it. We felt our way slowly and were doing pretty well when we heard the shriek of an incoming artillery round. We had heard our share, but this was bigger and lasted longer than any that we had ever heard before. I looked at him; he looked at me. It seemed to last forever (probably 5 - 6 seconds) and finally splashed about a hundred feet to our left in an abandoned rice paddy, throwing dirt and shards everywhere, but missing us. I held up my hand. "Stop? Here? HERE, sir?
I motioned him toward slight cover as I leaped out of the jeep and ran for the crater. I knew what it had to be, but would need shards to prove it. I dug and groped, gathering many into my steel pot. I called in a shell rep for a Soviet 152-mm gun. After a minute or two, I called in again, asking, "How'd they greet THAT news?" The answer came back: "With laughter." Obviously, our artillery guys thought that I had "... gone around the bend."
I knew that the enemy had this gun in his inventory and the shards told me that, even though we had never had this gun fired against us, I was right. I also figured that, the firing probably was being adjusted by an enemy observer who had crossed to our side of the lines, that he had to have "lost" the round. (After all, no friendly unit was anywhere near the splash.). that it would take him 15 or 20 minutes to adjust the firing of another round.
We arrived at the artillery CP located behind the ridge behind our CP and drove to the ops center. "Now, about that 152 gun," I said. The ops sergeant could not avoid his smirk. "Oh, YOU're the one…." I up-ended the helmet's worth of shards on his table, telling him to get out his measure.
He measured, turned with a stunned look as he reached for his phone. "Hot damn! He was RIGHT! It IS a 152!" "What was he firing at back THERE, sir?"
"Don't you know? He was firing at YOU!" I turned on my heel and left. It was, after all, time for that next round. It splashed just as my driver and I reached the trail. Closer to his target this time, but still a distant miss.
I sensed that the enemy had acquired this new piece and was playing with it, but, not wishing to risk his new toy to our own counterfire, would take a long time before the third round. It was, in fact, over an hour for the third round to arrive. That was it for the day.
The enemy's wariness continued until the armistice. Trying to block our artillery from getting a good fix on their new game piece, they would fire from one to three well-spaced rounds during any given day, but not every day.
Our artillery guys really wanted to get that gun, but, to my knowledge, we never located it. It was well dug-in and camouflaged even to air photos. The enemy never hit anything with this gun. In fact, the closest they ever came was with that very first round: our jeep!
********
The village of Changbong-ni is located in central Korea, below the 38th Parallel and about 7 miles north of Hoengsong. My unit, 0 Battery of the 82nd AAA was armed with M-1 6 half-track vehicles which had a quad-50 turret mounted with four 50 caliber machine guns. The action described below took place on 11-12 February 1951. I was the senior Lieutenant of D Battery.
D Battery was attached to Support Force 21 (SF-21). SF-21 was composed of a Battalion of 105 and a Battery of 155 Artillery with the 1st and 3rd (minus L Co) Battalion of the 38th Infantry Regiment for close-in protection. My unit was to augment the Infantry's mission.
SF-21 was attached to the 8th ROK Division, a command structure which required total dependence on the ROK Division for command and control. Our normal command line, the 2nd Infantry Division and it's elements, had no position in the chain of command with this attachment.
On 11 February, prior to midnight, we received word that the 8th ROK Division was under severe attack by Chinese forces. This soon turned into a collapse of the ROK units. and SF-21 started a delayed effort to load vehicles and attempt our own withdrawal. Our delay was caused by the complete loss of communications with the ROK unit we were supporting and a lack of control of SF-21 by US Forces. Our withdrawal did not start until 0200 hours, 12 February. By this time, the Changbong-ni area was inundated with fleeing ROK forces being closely followed by elements of several Chinese divisions.
By the time our column started its withdrawal, it came under sporadic machine gun fire and, as the intensity of the fire increased, the movement of the column became more disparate. At this time, I was ranked out of the front seat of my jeep by Captain Joyce, who was acting as assistant to Capt. Steven's, our Commanding Officer. As we were not moving, I left the jeep to move up the column to find out what was wrong. I was not certain that my actions were particularly brave, but it certainly saved my life and provided me with knowledge as to how soldiers can act when they are completely uninformed.
As I moved up the line of vehicles, I discovered that there would be a group of 5-10 vehicles with a huge gap between the lead vehicle and the rest of the column. Each lead vehicle did not have a person in the drivers seat. It wasn't that these drivers had been killed in their vehicle, for they had apparently abandoned their vehicles. My mission became a task of finding drivers to get that portion of the column moving. In one case, I found 10-15 men huddled in the rear of a truck as if the canvas top would provide protection from the rapidly increasing enemy fire. I asked them if anyone could drive and one soldier admitted he could, but didn't have a driver's license. I broke normal military procedure in order to get the column moving. I estimate that 10 percent of the vehicles in that column were without drivers and were blocking the road at a time when rapid movement would have placed them a long way down the road to Hoengsong and safety.
I finally worked my way past an M-16 which was the third vehicle in the column, and climbed on the rear deck of a tank which was not moving. The tank commander told me that he was stopped because the LT. in the leading vehicle was stopping every time the tank fired its cannon. The next time the lead tank stopped, I climbed onto its rear deck and discovered that it had no commander -- the gunner reported that the LT had abandoned his tank. I gave orders that they were to shoot and scoot at the same time, and not stop scooting until I ordered them to do so.
About a mile down the road, just south of Nongol, we had outrun the enemy fire, and I directed the lead tank off the road and advised the sergeant, now tank commander, to take the lead as soon as the rest of the column caught up with us. We waited for 10 minutes, and no one came up to join us. I then ordered the sergeant to take the lead and head down the road toward Hoengsong. I stood on the rear deck of the second tank with intentions of jumping off when we reached the first US unit so I could report what was happening.
As we approached the bridge north of Haktam-ni, the steep side of hill 310 was on the left of the narrow road, and a deep gorge with a small stream was on the right. The lead tank was hit with a burst of machine gun fire from a Chinese roadblock at the bridge. The tank pulled to its left into the steep side of hill 310. The tank I was on attempted to pull around the halted tank which had every possible gun firing. As we came beside the tank, ours was hit with a rocket launcher missile. I was blown off the vehicle and inside that tank all the crew had been killed. Two survivors from the first tank joined me on the road behind the two knocked-out vehicles which now completely blocked the road approach to the bridge.
We three survivors dropped down into the gorge on the left side of the road, and headed south, parallel to the road toward Haktam-ni. We attempted three times to cross the road onto more level terrain but each time we ran into enemy forces. Finally, just north of the bridge, we ran up against a cliff which we could not climb. Again, we made a very cautious attempt to cross to the east side, but just short of the road we stopped and must have spent 10 minutes trying to figure out what a small glowing red light on the road meant to our survival. When we got near enough we discovered it was and abandoned jeep with a large radio, which had not been turned off. We quickly moved across the road and started crossing the river between hills 206 and 333. When we reached the middle of the river, flares started popping over our heads. It was difficult to keep the other two men from moving while the flares were glowing.
Once on the other side of the river, we made our way to the east of hill 206, then south towards the road from Saemal. In the process, we turned the flank of an infantry company from the 3rd Battalion of the 38th Infantry, which was guarding Saemal. After a short and terrifying period of proving that we were not Chinese, we were escorted to the Battalion HQ where I reported what happened. At this point, nothing I had seen indicated a massive Chineseattack, and I could not understand why the Battalion would not immediately go to the rescue of SF-21. At this time I was informed that the road between Seamal and Hoengsong had been cut off. This information and what I had seen made me realize how critical the situation had become.
Stragglers from SF-21 started arriving about mid-morning of 12 February. I found out that D Battery now consisted of only 25 or so men, and not more than 4 or 5 of its M-16s were in operating condition. At the same time, the perimeter came under very heavy attack. About noon we started a breakout with an infantry company on each side of the road with the remaining M-16s providing support to the infantry.
On one point on the road, a Chinese mortar had zeroed in on a bottleneck which could not be avoided. My M-16 went through the impact area, but the vehicle behind me appeared reluctant to follow. So, I left my vehicle; counted the pop from the mortar and attempted to encourage the commander to follow. However, I missed a pop, and a mortar round hit my left foot. My momentum was sufficient to propel me out of the impact area, and a bit of crawling into a ditch provided some protection, at least until the Chinese put a machine gun into position so as to be able to rake the ditch.
At that time, I suggested to several men around a corner and out of the line of fire behind a building, that it would be appropriate to haul the wounded around that corner. This they did and then administered a dose of morphine; loaded me into a jeep and the others into a 3/4 ton vehicle; gave me an M-1 rifle and a bandoleer of ammunition and headed us on our way to Hoengsong. On that trip, one Chinese grenade hit the support bars for the canvas top of my jeep - I watched it explode beside the rear wheel and then thanked God that it was only a concussion grenade. On the left side of the vehicle, an enemy soldier with a burp gun started firing at us. With only my M-1 in a jeep with a rapidly shattering windshield, I could only aim with the front of the muzzle in front of the driver's nose and wait until the jeep moved into a position so I could fire at the enemy. The last round he fired went across the drivers belly, and passed through the upper portion of my thigh. At this point, I was perched on the small fender outside the jeep, my right leg was still in good shape, when another bullet passed through my calf, then between the driver and myself, while I continued hanging on.
Soon the driver saw a M-16 ahead which was lumbering down the center of the road. The road had a sharp drop-off into the rice paddies on each side. After I asked if he thought he could pass around the M-16, we decided that the enemy fire was so heavy that we had no choice but to try. With the morphine slowing my reflexes, I did not draw my right leg into the jeep before my foot hit the rear of the M-16, the impact broke my right ankle.
My memory of what happened after that is not too reliable, but both vehicles made it into Hoengsong. Furthermore, after reading such phrases as "massacre valley", I gather that the carnage just north of Hoengsong was worse than that of the initial attack on SF-231. If so, the retreat from Seamal must have been a horrible example of a command failure by X-Corps. Many of my comrades in SF 21 were the unfortunate who died under the control of an inept ROK command structure and without access to US support and control. As some contemporary US Senators might say, "Shame on you General Almond".
I remain one of the fortunate soldiers of SF-21.
********
As far back as I can remember I wanted to be a soldier. Although too young to serve in WWII, I followed its progress closely. A friend of mine once told me, ‘Maybe, when you are old enough there will be another war” and without thinking I answered “I hope so!” Well, my wish came true and I got my war.
In June 1948, when I reached the age of 16, I enlisted in the Iowa National Guard. When I turned 17, I signed on with the United States Army. I took my basic training at Ft Riley, Kansas. In basic, some liked it, some hated it. I didn’t like KP, GI parties or inspections, but I figured the rest was just great. After basic I was sent to Leadership School. That was rigorous duty but I also had the opportunity to become acquainted with the .50 caliber machine gun, my favorite weapon. After graduation, I stayed on, trained a lot, watched training films, and did demonstrations for the OCS classes some night exercises.
A lot of my comrades were veterans of Far East duty, and on listening to their bragging, I thought that this would be a good place to go. So, in early June 1950, I took a short discharge and reenlisted for six-years with my first assignment to the Far East Command. On 25 June, while home on reenlistment leave, the Korean War started - there was no doubt in my mind where I was going.
Arriving in Ft Lewis, Washington, I was assigned to the 2nd Infantry Division, 9th Infantry Regiment, and in Hq Company 1st Battalion. We organized quickly, boarded the US Sultan, and were on our way to Korea. On July 31, arrived in Pusan, Korea, off loaded, collected our equipment, and within hours were off to that war I wanted so long ago.
The trip north was uneventful and we stopped the first night on one of those hills I would learn to hate. We did not as yet have any ammuni­tion for our weapons, so our supply sergeant came around and announced that he was going to issue our daily rations, and handed each of us 6 rounds. I pointed out that I had a carbine with a clip that held 15 or 30 rounds, he changed his mind and increased our ration.
The next day we arrived at a staging point where I was assigned to ride shot gun on a truck going to the ammo depot which turned out to be a train station. We loaded the trucks with as much ammo as possible and headed back. One truck got a flat tire and did not have a spare. The other trucks returned and three of us stayed with the disabled truck. The next day a truck with a spare returned and coming back to the point we found that our bat­talion had gone into action, so we immediately moved up to their position. As night came on, a detail was formed to take the ammo up to the front lines. It was dark and about halfway there we were ambushed by the North Koreans. We beat a hasty retreat back to a creek and took up defensive posi­tions. We were ordered back to the CP and the next morning we delivered ammo, food and water to the front line troops. On our return trip we took the dead and wounded off the hill. On one of these trips, bul­lets began to whizz and zinggg by my head. I yelled out to our troops “Will you guys stop shooting!” A voice came down saying, “It ain’t us”.
During the first week, we were sitting on a bank at the forward CP eating our cold C rations when artillery rounds began to hit near by. I can remember trying to crawl under my helmet, and then the root base of a tree. On other days we would receive mortar rounds and occasional small arms fire. At the beginning, we all would scatter and seek cover, but after a few weeks, I became callused to it all and stayed where I was and continued to eat. The Platoon Leader hollered for me to get down which I did and was sent to the CP. The CP was in a school house and there was little for us to do. The next day we got shelled. The first round hit a 2 1/2 truck on its hood and blew the whole front end off of it. Everyone ran into the hills without their weapons. I picked up as many as I could carry and gave them back their weapons.
Another day one of the guys of the A&P pla­toon and I were sitting on the creek bank cleaning our weapons. When we finished he put a clip in, pulled the bolt back, loaded it, and put the muzzle to his boot, and then pulled the trigger. He seemed astounded when it went off. He screamed and hollered bringing the medics over to patch him up. They took him away and he never came back. I still believe to this day that it was not intentional.
The dead and wounded came off those hills daily. The wounded were put in ambulances and the dead on a jeep with a 4 stretcher rack. I will always remember when our Company commander, a Captain, and considered by the troops as a nice guy, was ordered to take command of a front line com­pany. I was with the group when he bid us goodby several days later I went up the hill and brought the Captain’s body back. He had been in his foxhole when he received a direct hit from a mortar round. You could not recognize it was the same person. His being killed was a sad day for all of us.
One afternoon I was at the forward CP aid station when a wounded soldier came down off the hill carrying a M-1. As he walked by, I offered to trade guns. Grabbing his rifle by the barrel he threw it in my direction. I asked if he wanted my carbine and he said no. I went to the supply truck, gave them my carbine and received 2 bandoleers of M-1 ammunition. I carried that rifle for the rest of my tour.
It wasn’t long before we were told that the North Koreans were making a big push and we set up guard posts around the perimeter. Our platoon Sergeant and the 1st Sergeant went out to scout a way to the rear should it be needed. When they returned, one of the guards in that sector shouted “Halt, Halt, Halt” and opened fire, killing the 1st Sergeant. When he discovered what he had done, he broke down and was sent to the Aid Station where he was evacuated to Japan.
I was on guard detail, scanning the rice pad­dies for any movement, when a voice behind me asked, “What are you doing here don’t you know that all the others have bugged out? Before I could answer he took off with the others. I looked around, and seeing no one else, I took the road down the hill to the rear at a brisk pace. The path I followed was about 4 feet above and between two paddies. I car­ried my rifle at sling arms and my bayonet was in the stacking swivel. A machine gun opened up on me, and I jumped into a rice paddy, away from the fire. When I jumped, my rifle went up in the air and as I landed below, my bayonet jabbed into my shoulder blade. I pulled it out and threw it as far as I could. By this time I was getting a little perturbed. So far I had been left behind, shot at, and now had stabbed myself with my own bayonet. I took my rifle and fired 8 rounds in the direction of the machine gun, reloaded and fired another two clips.
I got up back on the road and soon caught up with the rear of a convoy of trucks that were pulling out. Lo-and-behold, there was my platoon leader who had left me behind, running with a 45 pistol in each hand. I passed by him and jumped into a trailer that was being pulled by a jeep, thinking that if we got into another fire fight, those 45 pistols would have been as worthless as I thought he was.
We eventually got organized and set up guard posts. The next morning, we set out on foot to what was the front line where we took up positions on a hard rocky hill. We were told to dig foxholes, and as we did not have entrenching tools, we tried to dig with our steel helmets. After two or three whacks with them, we didn’t scar the surface, so we decided to wait until we had proper tools. I sure wished that I had the bayonet I threw away earlier. After an hour or so, those who had an entrenching tool had dug a hole that could barely accommodate a canteen cup. We decided to assume the sitting position to defend ourselves. To the left of our posi­tion, there was another hill being manned by some of our Battalion’s troops. We could see the North Koreans attack that position, but could not see our own troops but heard their gun fire and machine guns firing from the top of the hill. It must have been overrun, for we were quickly ordered off our hill and retreated to the rear.
Later that day, the front must have stabi­lized, and three of us were issued a .50 caliber machine gun and sent to the top of the hill. As I had been trained for that weapon in Leadership School, we had no problems with setting it up and adjusting the head space. As things were quiet, we became more relaxed when suddenly, an airplane dived down on us. It looked like a Marine Corsair and we waived it off. The plane pulled to the left and flew by at hilltop level and we could see the pilot wave at us. Our waving froze in mid-stride when we noticed the large red star on the fuselage. He pulled up, swung over to the right and dove down on a quad 50 half-track. The AAA boys filled the air with tracers and we thought that they were hitting the Yak, but it didn’t bring it down. The Yak, continuing to fire, pulled up and headed north. A very short time later an F-80 shot across the hill and I would guess that he caught up with that Yak in seconds.
In a short while, we were back to delivering supplies to the line troops, doing guard duty and manning roadblocks at night. One night, while on roadblock duty, I heard the sound of a large group of men marching at quick time. As they came by, they identified themselves as Baker company, 5th Marines. The next morning we were ordered to push forward to the Naktong river. During that push we were assigned front line positions. We did some shooting, were shot at, and even took prisoners, we watched the Marine Corsairs dive and strafe the enemy when one of them pulled up and smoke was pouring out of the engine area. As it peaked, the pilot bailed out and landed in between the friendly and enemy positions.
His plane spiraled and crashed with a loud explo­sion. The other planes continued their runs and covered his position until a helicopter came in low and picked him up.
When the front lines became secured, a couple of things, which I did not personally observe, happened that got my attention. As told to me by wit­nesses, one of our .30 caliber machine gun crews, from HQ Co., were positioned on the front lines for support and was attacked by the enemy. A North Korean soldier threw a grenade which was caught by one of the men who immediately threw it back which the Korean caught and threw back again which was quickly thrown back and when the Korean caught it, it exploded. I was acquainted with the B Co. crew member who did the throwing and remember him to be of Italian descent, in his thirties, balding, wore thick glasses, and built like a top (nar­row shoulders and wide hips). He was wounded several times, and always came back to the same company. All this may seem impossible to you, but you must know that the North Korean grenades have a much longer fuse than the American grenades. The other incident to another man from that machine gun crew. One of our men was wound­ed down close to the Naktong river. Our man went down and grabbed him by the collar and was pulling him to safety when he was shot through the arm he was pulling with. He shifted hands and continued to pull when he was shot again. He fell to the ground and continued to pull the man back to safety. He was taken back to the CP for evacuation where I gave him his mail I had been holding. They then took him to the hospital, patched him up and sent him stateside. I volunteered to take his place on the machine gun crew but instead I was transferred to the l&R (Intelligence and Reconnaissance) section as jeep driver.
We woke up early that morning and as I looked around I could see that there wasn't many of us left. After a quick breakfast, we boarded a truck and headed out. We crossed the Chongchon river at a ford that was a little over 2 feet deep then drove north and established another OP just south of the front lines. We constructed an Outpost and sent out a recon patrol, and settled in to an uneventful day and night. The next day was routine until it got dark when were rousted out as the Chinese were attacking our OP and about to overrun us. I ran up a small hill behind the OP and took a position beside the l&R Platoon M/Sgt who was lying there. I asked him ''Where are they?'' and he replied ''There's one now as he aimed his carbine to fire. Before he could fire, a grenade exploded on the other side of him, killing him and wounding a man who was next to him.
At this point, I and everyone else evacuated that hill and ran south to the creek bed. I was bringing up the rear and about to pass by the building where our OP was located when suddenly a white phosphorous mortar round exploded directly in front of the OP spewing and filling the air with smoking white phosphorous embers. I dove into the OP to get out of the way of the burning stuff and then headed towards the creek. As I got there, I noted that every man was in the creek bed where they had taken up a position facing north where they expected an enemy attack. A High explosive mortar round exploded behind us and a sliver of metal tore into my right shoulder, burning like the dickens. As it didn't bleed, I just ignored it. About that time, one of the A&P Sergeants came up to me with a silly grin on his face and said, "You'll never guess what just happened". He and a squad of men had gone down towards the river and as they rounded the bank, they bumped right into a squad of Chinese - without either side firing a shot, both turned tail and ran.
A little later we got orders to fall back onto the road and proceed to the rear OP on the other side of the river. We walked back towards to the ford without interference. As there were no vehicles, we had to wade across. The freezing water came almost to my waist and we were all certain we would end up with frozen feet, or worse. Three of the men decided not wade across but, instead went along the river bank to a partial bridge. I could see them crawl out on the timbers, slip, dangle for a few seconds, and fall into deeper icy water. I did not see any of them come out. Once out of the river, the water on our clothes and shoes turned to ice, which kept our body heat in and my feet didn't feel cold anymore. We walked south to the rear OP where we met a 1st Lt. and ushered into a warm, dry tent where we stayed the night, drying out. Looking around, HQ Company was getting smaller all the time. Years later, while reading the 2nd Division history, I discovered we were supposed to be in Division reserve, but didn't know it.
The next day, we boarded vehicles and proceeded a few miles south where the convoy pulled into an area with some rundown buildings, where we settled in and waited for orders. Food and supplies were scarce and everyone was hungry. Later that afternoon we did get a meal, which was really appreciated by all, we didn't know that was the last meal we would get for some time. That afternoon, the l&R section's Captain, a Corporal and the Interpreter drove up in a jeep and told me to hop in. I ran to the shack to get my meager belongs and when I came back, found that they had gone. I didn't like the idea that I was being left behind. I loaded into the last vehicle heading south, down an old narrow road. We didn't get very far before the truck slid off the road, almost turned over and then got stuck. We tried but failed to get it unstuck, so we left it. We walked for some time on the road until it got dark, then climbed up the highest hill and found that except for us, there was no activity in sight. Here we were in North Korea, on the top of a snow crested hill, all by ourselves. After dark, a 1st Lt. called us together and told us to pair up with a buddy and walk out as best we could and it was "every man for himself".
Saying that, he and a sergeant, along with the others, paired up with a friend and left. As the only l&R soldier there, (my best buddy San Antone had been killed the first night) I was alone. I wasn't frightened and had just decided to go to the top of the hill and observe the area and if all was quite, maybe take a nap. Before I could carry this out, a man I had never seen before came up from my left rear and asked me if I wanted to walk out of here with him. I readily agreed and off we went.
As the others who left had gone off to the right, I was convinced that was the wrong way to safety. So, we went down the hill to the stream. When we got there, we noticed that it was flowing southward so we decided to follow it. The terrain wasn't too bad and we made good time. I don't recall talking to my new friend as we were preoccupied with the mission of getting back to friendly lines, where ever they were. Later, we came upon the sound of machine gun fire. It seemed to be coming from some distance off and from both sides of the stream. The guns sounded like both heavy and smaller caliber guns and we didn't know who was who.
The banks of the stream were about head high, so we crouched down and went forward. A few miles further, we crossed the stream, getting wet again, going east. Soon we came onto a busy road with American traffic on it. Going with the traffic flow, we soon came upon a Division Artillery CP. We didn't know which division, but we really didn't care. We found the mess tent was open and feeding that hour. We asked the Mess Sgt. if we could have something. He told us to wait until all his men were fed and any food left we could eat. By the time he was ready, there were others who wanted to be fed. Lucky enough, there was sufficient for all. A fire was going in an open field and we sat around it for warmth, and eventually fell asleep. Early in the morning, some Turkish soldiers came, rolled me away from the fire, and sat down. I got up, went back, they smiled and made room for me. My new friend was nowhere to be found and I never saw him again.
At dawn, I got back onto the road. My feet were still wet as I hadn't taken my "snow packs" off to dry them. I thought that it just wasn't the time or place to do that. Soon after I started walking south, I met some guys from the A&P Platoon, so I joined them for the walk south. I never did ask them how they got out. As we proceeded south, my feet began to blister and swell. The rubberband on my snow-packs had abraded my left foot and eventually had wore a hole clear down to the bone just above the big toe. Walking wasn't too bad. My feet were like raw hamburger and the constant walking had made them feel like mush. Whenever we would stop, my feet would swell inside my boots. Walking again was more difficult.
We came to a juncture in the road and came upon an MP, all decked out as only MPs do, shiny brass whistle and all. He asked us for our outfit, and then directed us to the road to our left. A little further, we came upon an abandoned CP with tires, trash, etc. strewed about. We foraged for food, finding nothing but instant coffee packets, We started a fire, melted some snow and had hot coffee -- probably the best cup of coffee I ever had. We again proceeded down the road - I don't know for how long, it could have been days, as I lost track of days and time. As luck would have it, a 2nd Division truck came by, picked us up and took us to a place called Ascom City, outside of Seoul where our organization regrouped. In July 50, we had 151 men present and accounted for, in January 51 there were 41 left.
We were billeted in a Korean schoolhouse, issued sleeping bags, etc. My feet were a real mess, so I hobbled to the Battalion Aid Station where a Medic told me to come back at 2PM for evacuation. I really didn't want to go, so I asked the Platoon Sgt. (a friend) if I could stay and treat my feet myself. He said OK. The bottoms of my feet were raw and there was a hole in my left foot. The medics gave me some Epsom Salts, medication and fresh bandages. I traded my snowpacks for a pair of leather combat boots. all leather. My feet healed amazingly fast, and I kept the wound clean and bandaged. I now have a scar on my left foot and every time I see it, I am reminded of how I got it.
I later met the interpreter who had been in the jeep with the Captain and corporal. He was quite surprised to find out that I was still alive. He told me that they had driven into a Chinese ambush where the others in the jeep had been killed as he bailed out running into the hills and got away. This meant that of my I&R Section, I and the interpreter were the only personnel that were still alive. And you know, that Lt. that told us "every man for himself" came around our billets and shook my hand. I thought that was nice of him. -- TO BE CONTINUED--
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by Don Thomas 23rd Infantry Regiment
"If your son is in Korea, write to him. If he is in the 2nd Infantry Division pray for him." Those were the words attributed to Edward R. Murrow when he was reporting on the Korean War the last few days of November 1950. This story is about those tragic events that unfolded before the 2nd Infantry Division west of the Taebaek Mountains when major Chinese forces entered the war.
Chinese soldiers had been identified in Korea weeks earlier at Unsan when they had surrounded and destroyed the third battalion of the 8th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Calvary Division. However, Army Intelligence dismissed that incident as only an isolated action involving a few Chinese volunteers.Those "volunteers" were a part of Chinese General Lin Pao's twenty- one division Fourth Field Army.
They would thereafter be referred to as the "Phantom Fourth Field Army." They were there, but not a footprint showed how or when they got there. Later reports indicated 200,000 Chinese faced the 8th Army west of the Taebaek and about 100,000 faced the Marines and the rest of the 10th Corps east of the Taebaek The Chinese went back into hiding for three weeks after attacking the 8th Calvary Regiment. They came out again in major force out of the darkness on the 25th of November.
They struck all along the Chongchon River against the 8th Army. Two days later they attacked the Marines at Yudam-ni. The fighting that followed was on two separate fronts. The Taebaek Mountain Range separated the 8th Army from the 10th Corps. That north and south mountain range was over 6000 feet in elevation.
Neither men nor radio signals were ever able to overcome that obstacle. Therefore, the two American forces were unable to provide mutual support. What happened to the Marines and what happened to the units of the 8th Army were two separate and completely isolated events. However, the weather was the same.
Fifteen and twenty degrees below zero and a few inches to a few feet of snow. It should also be noted that the 10th Corps in the east included the Army's 3rd Infantry Division and the 7th Infantry Division. The Third Division held the port at Hungnam and the Seventh Division held the road partway to the Marine 1st Division that was withdrawing towards the port.
The Marine's story is the one that is most often written about to depict the entrance of the Chinese into the war. The Marines did a great number of things right and therefore, extricated themselves from possible disaster. The 2nd Infantry Division on the other hand were not as fortunate. They were strung along the Chongchon River and was involved in General MacArthur's "home by Christmas" final push that started just after Thanksgiving.
The 2nd Infantry Division was unknowingly getting close to disaster when it moved further north in the "end of the war" offensive. The 8th Army at that point had a lot in common with General Custer at Little Big Horn. They did not know what was out there either. It was simply that two great armies faced each other, however, one army did not know the other one was there.
The first indication the 2nd Division had that the war was not at an end occurred when Col. Charles C. Slone's 9th Infantry Regiment was severely mauled at a place called "Chinaman's Hat." As a result of that engagement his 3,000 man regiment was reduced to 440 able-bodied men. An infantry regiment has nine rifle companies and three heavy weapons companies. He had at his disposal a total of two companies left to start into the roadblock in the pass. T
Therefore, the second division was well under strength when the order was given the division to hold the road junction south of Kunu-ri. This junction had to remain open to allow other 8th Army units to withdraw safely. The pass south of Kunu-ri thereafter, known as the "Kunu-ri Pass" would become the division's worst nightmare.
General Laurence B. Kaiser, a WWI and WWII veteran commanded the Second Infantry Division . When the time arrived for Kaiser to withdraw his division he was given the choice of going out the west road to Anju or go south through the Kunu-ri Pass. Earlier other units had gone south without interruption.
The 25th Division had been withdrawing on the west road to Anju. General Kaiser did not want to run the risk of catching up with the 25th Division and end up stalled and overtaken by the oncoming Chinese. He was not even sure that the west road was still open. He had received some earlier reports of a minor road block at the Kunu-ri Pass but did not consider it a major problem.
Prior to his decision to head south through the pass he never had any current reports as to the extent of the enemy buildup in the pass which was increasing hourly. He also made no attempt to see if the Anju road could be used. Therefore, he elected to start the division south through the pass.
Unknown to him a full division of Chinese troops blocked the pass. He ordered the 23rd Infantry Regiment to continue to hold the road junction south of Kunu-ri to prevent the Chinese from catching up to the withdrawing 2nd Division. It was better to risk losing one regiment to save the remainder of the division.
However, battles don't always go according to plan. In preparing for a later withdraw Colonel Paul L. Freeman Jr. the 23rd Infantry Commander decided to make a last minute check of the road west to Anju to see if the 25th Infantry Division had cleared it and if the Chinese had not yet closed it.
He ordered 2nd Battalion Commander Lt. Col. James Edwards to take a patrol out the west road. He reported back that the 25th Division had cleared it and no Chinese were in evidence. That night, on the 30th of November after dark, Freeman ordered his rifle companies to pull off the ridge lines and start out the west road where vehicles from the 15th Field Artillery Battalion awaited them.
A platoon from L Company was to remain at the road block and be picked up by a withdrawing unit. They were never heard from again until after the war. Some survived as POW's. Essentially, the 23rd Infantry Regiment never fired a shot after it started out on the Anju Road. It was an entirely different story for the remainder of the division however.
General S.L.A. Marshall described in his book, "The River and the Gauntlet," in great detail the tragedy in the pass. It was littered with burning vehicles, the dead, the dying and the wounded. In Marshall's final page he wrote: "As to men and guns, the statistics of loss in the gauntlet fight have no place in this narrative, in any case they cannot be stated with precision.
At Valley Forge, the birth's struggle of a nation, but 3,000 of 7,000 Continentals died or faded from the force one terrible winter. In round figures, the wasting away of the 2nd Division and its attachments is roughly comparable but it all happened in one day." In a positive note, the 2nd Division held the door open below Kunuri so other units could escape. One can only imagine what fate would have befallen those units had the 2nd Division not done so.
It was just so unfortunate that while the division was holding that door open another one closed behind it. The 2nd Division regrouped and re-equipped in December near Seoul.
On New Year's Eve 1950, a month after the tragedy, the 2nd Infantry Division was back in action when it sent the 3rd Battalion of the 23rd Infantry Regiment back on line north of Hoensong to open up a North Korean road block that had South Korean General Yu Jae Hung's II Corps trapped.
This writer earned the Purple Heart in that action. A final note. The Second Infantry Division is presently still on line in Korea these fifty years later in a "tripwire" role in the event North Korea attempts to invade South Korea again.
The End
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by Don Thomas, K Company, 23rd Regiment
This is what the division's rear guard, 23rd Infantry Regiment had to do to hold the vital Anju Road Junction while the 2nd Infantry Division ran the Kun-ri Pass roadblock to the south.
The sub-title of the S.L.A. Marshall's book The River and the Gauntlet is "Defeat of the Eighth Army by the Chinese Community Forces, November 1950, in the Battle of the Chongchon River, Korea." Not all units of the Eighth Army were defeated in that battle. On the contrary, there were many small victories. This story is about one of those. It is a story about Lt. Col. Kane's Third Battalion of the 23rd Infantry Regiment.
On the morning of the 29th of November he started his battalion forward on foot to set up a road block on the foothills and on the north-south road coming out of Kunu-ri. This would position them north of the vital Anju Road Junction. They marched all day long and arrived well after dark. The Third Battalion took up positions on the west side of the road the other two battalion's were on the road and on the east side of the road. There were five hundred yards of flat rice patties between their position and the Kaechon River.
The village of Kunu-ri was on the north side of the river. A concrete bridge spanned the river to the east of the village. While the infantrymen hacked at the frozen ground and sweated in the 15 degree below zero temperature, they could see 200 Chinese troops standing around three large bonfires on the railroad embankment between the river and the village.
They were a scant six hundred yards away and in plain sight. The Chinese retired to the village near midnight. The men of the battalion continued to chip away at the frozen ground until just before dawn. By then most of the holes were only about one foot deep. They added rocks and dirt to build up the front protection. The battalion was tied in so tight that Captain Hayne's 95 man King Company had to set back every other hole to avoid making the position one long trench. K Company was understrengthed to the extent that there was no 3rd Rifle Platoon.
At dawn the activity in the battalion's position stopped. Every eye and ear was directed towards the village. They appeared just after full light. The Chinese were in single file spaced a few feet apart. They were walking unhurried. They crossed the bridge and turned west on the near river bank and began to pass in front of the battalion's position. The defenders then knew that the Chinese had not seen them. Platoon Sergeant George Chamberlain, of King Company's first platoon passed the word down the line to hold the fire until the machine-gun on the left flank opened up. The enemy line finally turned south and started towards the west end of the battalion's position. They still did not know the battalion was there, waiting for them.
The silence was finally shattered when the machine-gun began to rattle on the left flank. The entire line then opened up with everything they had. The Chinese line broke. Some of them hit the ground, never to get up. Many of them tried to run back to the bridge. A few made it, most did not. The incoming fire was light and sporadic.
By mid-morning the column was no more. At about that time some Air Force B-26 Bombers came over and dropped bombs and napalm on the village and reduced it to a smoldering ruin. The jet fighters followed a few minutes later. A few survivors had reached the bridge and were standing under it. One of the jets made a run on the bridge and cleaned it out. The defenders received light sniper fire the remainder of the day.
At about dusk word was passed down the line to withdraw. The men quietly slipped off the ridge one by one into the draw. As the platoons formed they moved east to the main road. They quickly marched south to where the men and the trucks of the Fifteenth Field Artillery patiently waited. The battalion's casualties were very light. The enemy's very heavy. The Division's rear guard action in that area was made up of many such small unit fights. This action by the Third Battalion of the 23rd Infantry Regiment was one of the more successful ones.
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