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George H. McMasterBrandon, Florida- "No one is prepared for the mental and physical strain that is experienced immediately upon arriving at the scene, regardless of the training he or she has received.... The newness of war disappeared very quickly once we saw our first casualties, both friend and foe, and set our mind to the fact that our old life was over and we had entered a new era." - George McMaster
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Memoir Contents:
Pre-MilitaryMy name is George H. McMaster. I was born on June 22, 1930 (a Depression baby) in Chicago, Illinois, the son of Henry L. and May F. Dixon McMaster. Father was born May 19, 1903 in Kilmaster, Michigan, a lumber camp that no longer exists. Mother was born on March 13, 1908 on a farm near Portage LaPrairie, Manitoba, Canada. Father was a long distance truck driver (owner and operator) who died on February 22, 1998 at Ft. Atkinson, Wisconsin. Mother was a homemaker and she is still living in Ft. Atkinson. I have two sisters, Irene and Margaret, both younger than me. I attended Stone School in Chicago, Illinois, graduating from eighth grade in 1944, and attended Senn High School in Chicago, graduating in 1948. I continued on the same year at Wright Junior College, also in Chicago, for one year, 1948-1949. At the age of 12, I joined our church Boy Scout troop, participating in parades and other patriotic events during the war. I enjoyed the experience, the association with others, the limited discipline enforced during meetings, offices I was elected to and the responsibilities associated with them, and the weekend camping and scout activities in outdoor living. While in grade and high school, I worked part-time in a machine shop as a machinist assistant. I also worked at the National Tea Company and in a grocery store as stock clerk and produce manager. In the summers of 1942 to 1947, I assisted my Uncle Norris Forsythe in his dairy farm operations at New Bern, North Carolina. World War II was going on while I was growing up. I had two uncles on my father's side, Art and Clint McMaster, who served in the Army during the war. Two uncles on my mother's side, Hough and Jack Dixon, were in the Royal Canadian Army and Air Force, respectively. All survived the war. I remember student activities in USO programs, sending letters and packages to service men, victory gardens, and war bond drives. I participated in these student activities, plus was a member of the high school ROTC program for four years. I held the rank of Master Sergeant when I graduated. Joining UpUnited States victories during World War II built up a tremendous amount of pride and loyalty in a teenager like myself, and my training for four years of high school ROTC and the close relationship with regular military personnel assigned to this program increased my interest in joining the military as soon as it was practical. I also planned to attend junior college after high school because I felt that continued education would be a necessity if I intended to do something with my life besides driving a truck or hard labor like so many members of my family and friends. The Reserves sounded like an obvious choice since I would remain in my home area, and I could continue my part-time job while attending school. During the war I was always impressed with the news reports made on the conduct of the Marine Corps, beginning with their defense of Wake Island, the landings and action on Guadalcanal, and all other campaigns during the remainder of the war. My uncle in North Carolina had constructed several cottages for rent to Marines and their families who were stationed at the Marine Corps Air Station, Cherry Point, North Carolina, just down the road from the farm. New Bern, of course, was an excellent liberty town and my summer months during the 1942 to 1947 period brought me into close contact with a large number of Marines of all ranks and positions. Many were kind enough to take me on tours of the base and simply show me around. Needless to say, I was impressed with their attitude, appearance, overall bearing, and esprit de corps, so I decided it would be the Marine Corps, if they would take me. I never regretted my decision. None of my friends joined with me. They thought I was crazy. Since I was still 17 and required my parents' consent, I waited for my father to leave on one of his long distance runs and conned my mother into signing the enlistment papers, assuring her that I would not have to go away. World War II was over and we had no one else to fight. Wishful thinking. When my father returned a couple of weeks later and found out, he was not a happy camper, but finally said afterward that it was my neck and I would have to live with it. I enlisted in the active Marine Corps Reserve on March 18, 1948, in Chicago Illinois, for two years. I was assigned to Baker Company (Co. B), 9th Infantry Battalion, Evanston, Illinois, with the rank of private. Boot camp was not required, but we were expected to attend all monthly training meetings and two weeks of summer training at an assigned Marine Corps or Naval Base. If we were absent more than three times without acceptable excuse, we were transferred to inactive status and our draft board was notified. I remained in the Reserves for two years, then re-enlisted on March 18, 1950, for six years. Baker Company was organized as a standard Marine Corps infantry company. Our officers and most of the NCOs were all veterans of World War II and were, for the most part, combat veterans. That meant no BS during training periods. We were fortunate in having our own indoor facilities that were located adjacent to a public golf course and forest preserve. These open spaces gave us the opportunity to exercise and drill without too much public distraction. Close order drill, field tactics, preparations of defense positions, hand to hand combat, etc., were performed outside when weather permitted. Indoor training included training films on various subjects such as map reading, combat footage of World War II actions, field hygiene, first aid, etc., with emphasis on weapons instruction, Marine Corps history, inspections, written examinations, etc. My years as a member of my high school ROTC paid off since our regular army instructors had drilled most of these subjects into our heads on a daily basis. Summer camp of 1948 was at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, home of the 2nd Marine Division. Most of our time was spent in field training with regular Marines, amphibious landings, live firing on the firing range with all weapons in use at that time, inspections, and a formal parade thrown in. The summer camp of 1949 was at the Naval Amphibious Training Base, Little Creek, Virginia. Training there was similar to that received the previous year at Lejeune, except we boarded a troop transport at the Norfolk Naval Base and spent several days at landing practice, and live firing on the rifle range and night assault practices. Pleasant memories of liberty at Virginia Beach remain in my mind. The summer of 1950, I returned to Camp Lejeune. Training was basically the same as before, except additional time was spent on the rifle range. There was no cold weather training given at any time. Growing up in the North--Illinois, Wisconsin, and Manitoba, Canada, did help. I had just changed civilian jobs. After completing one year at Wright Junior College in Chicago, I was still working part-time at National Tea Company and had no idea as to what I was going to do career-wise, etc. I thought that perhaps a review of job opportunities might be in order. I could always go back to school if nothing materialized. As luck would have it, my next door neighbor was a secretary for a large mining and fertilizer manufacturing company headquartered in downtown Chicago. She suggested that, if I was interested, I should call and make an appointment to have an interview with the personnel manager. She knew of an opening in the service department, thought it might be interesting, and felt that I would qualify. I called, made an appointment, filled out the normal employment forms, had the interview, and got the job. I still think to this day that my neighbor put in a good word for me since there were a number of applicants for the job. I quit National Tea and joined International Minerals and Chemical Corporation full time as a mail clerk delivering mail to the various departments and running errands around town. My starting salary was $125.00 a month. In today's terms, that doesn't sound like much, but it was not too bad back in 1949 when jobs were scarce. During this time I was able to observe the various functions of corporate activities and became acquainted with practically everyone who was employed there, including most of the top executives. My interest started to focus on the Traffic Department. Since their responsibilities centered on the movement of raw materials and finished product, the department required close association with railroads, airlines, and trucking and steamship companies. This type of department is generally called a Logistics Department today. In addition, the department employees seemed to have more fun than the rest. The Accounting Department was the other alternative, since I had no desire to be a salesman. Accounting appeared to be quite boring and since this was pre-computer days, most work was done by hand. In January of 1950, an opening developed in the Traffic Department and I was asked by the Corporate Traffic Manager, E. Landis, if I would be interested in joining his department as clerk/trainee. Naturally I accepted, since it also meant a $25.00 per month increase in salary. I was also ready to do something else besides deliver mail. My duties consisted primarily of filing claims against freight carriers for loss and damage, auditing freight bills, and the filing of supplements to update freight rate tariffs, of which we had an extensive library. Miscellaneous other assignments were given to me by members of the department. Everyone knew that I was a member of the active reserves, but this created no problems with the company or my boss since there were several other employees who were in the National Guard and Navy/Marine Corps reserve. My two weeks of summer camp was not counted as vacation, nor did it cause loss of pay. By law, they couldn't do anything about it anyway. War Breaks OutI was at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, June, 1950, when the North Koreans attacked South Korea. Our company was assembled on the second floor of our barracks and our company commander, Captain T. Burns, made the announcement that the North Koreans had invaded South Korea early that morning, but that very little information was available at that time. He indicated that it was a very serious situation and that we all could be affected. He said that additional information would be passed on as it was received and authenticated. The scuttlebutt was unbelievable. In fact, most of the guys hadn't the slightest idea where Korea was. I personally knew very little about Korea except its location in relation to Japan and that a Marine Battalion had captured the forts in the Inchon area around 1870 or '71 in reprisal for treatment of American merchant seamen captured at sea. The Japanese had occupied Korea for many years, building most of its industrial complex in the northern areas. I also knew about the Russian declaration of war against Japan near the end of World War II and their invasion of Korea to reap the spoils at no cost to themselves. I was aware that North Korea was industrial and that South Korea was agricultural. Nothing was known of the people, their philosophies, etc. I recall going to the base library and reviewing what limited information they had on the country. I passed most of this information on to some of the members of the company who were interested. I did not particularly want to go to war, but I knew that I was responsible to fulfill my commitment to my service and country. I knew that if I had not been a member of the reserve, I would probably have been drafted sometime into the Army, and who knows what would have happened then. Just having celebrated my 20th birthday and still young enough to be reckless with my own neck, plus the time spent studying and participating in military activities, science, and history, I was ready to go. We didn't think we were going home from Lejeune, but finally returned to Chicago after our two weeks training was completed. Upon arrival at our reserve training center, we were advised not to leave town for any extended period, but if we had to, call in and advise where we could be reached. When I returned to work from camp in late June 1950, everyone was well aware of the war in Korea and the growing US participation in it. My boss simply asked me if I might have to go. I said probably, but had no idea when. Orders were issued in late July to report for active duty on August 8, 1950, destination unknown, but it didn't take an MIT graduate to figure out where. During the period of March, 1949 to August, 1950, I received the following promotions. I was promoted to PFC on January 03, 1949, to Corporal on July 01, 1949, and to Sergeant on August 08, 1950. I advised my boss of my activation orders and dates. He told me that I would have my job when I got back. In a way I was sorry to leave since I enjoyed the work very much and had made plans to enroll in the College of Advanced Traffic in Chicago that fall. The college had a two-year course in Industrial Transportation and Interstate Commerce Commission law. Still, since my initial enlistment in the reserves, I had known that it was always a possibility that this could happen, so it was a matter of making the most of it. In the Reserves we were subjected to intense field training, discipline, weapons and live firing--all of which were essential to field service in any war. Besides, I was convinced of my own invincibility. I followed the news very closely. The "conflict" in Korea was the main topic of radio and newspapers, especially as the US commitment increased on a daily basis. Television was still in its infancy and we did not own one. The news covered mostly the defeats suffered by the Army and the rout of South Korean forces down to the Pusan Perimeter. Using effective propaganda techniques, the US news media tried to make it sound better than it really was. However, we were getting the hell beat out of us and that was it. My family, of course, took the news of my leaving with natural concern. My younger sisters and mother were visibly upset initially, but after a few days they got over it. My dad gave me whatever support he could and did not mention the "I told you so." During the last few days at home, I spent as much time as possible with my family. Since I had no full-time girlfriend, I was not bothered by outside interference. There was little to do to get ready to leave. As I mentioned, my boss and I had our discussion and my leave of absence was established with the company. I said goodbye to my co-workers around the 4th or 5th of August. I was not married (thank God) and had nothing to put into storage. Nor did I own a car. The fellows I grew up with in our neighborhood threw a going away party, which included my father. Everyone woke up the next morning with severe headaches, so we must have had a good time. Mom washed and ironed all my uniforms and clothing and we packed my sea bag, which was delivered and tagged at our reserve training facility the morning of August 8, 1950. We reported early that evening. My family, as well as families of all other members, were present when we were ordered to fall in and official orders were read to all hands, advising us that we would board buses parked outside for transit to Union Station, downtown Chicago. From there a special troop train would take my Reserve Battalion en masse to Camp Pendleton, California. Once there, we would be further processed and assigned to our new units. The names of several of our newest members were called and they were advised that since they had less than one year in the reserve, they would be immediately assigned to San Diego, California, for boot camp upon our arrival at Camp Pendleton. This was the only time during the first stages of our going active that boot camp was mentioned while I was present. The rest of us were never asked about or had a choice to request basic boot camp training. We said our goodbyes and boarded the buses for the train station. At this time our company, like most reserve units across the country, was at approximately two-thirds strength since interest in the military had declined and many of the older veterans had transferred to the inactive reserves or had just gotten out. The bus ride was rather quiet and only took 45 minutes or so to reach the train station. The full impact of our situation had finally reached home in most of our minds. We boarded the train and were assigned seats and berths. We were on Pullman cars, which were quite comfortable. After all the other units of the battalion arrived and boarded, together with our sea bags and other gear which were placed in baggage cars, the train pulled out, heading southwest. We were allowed to bring one carry-on bag. It contained field dungarees, underwear, shaving gear, reading material, and in most cases, some spirits in case of snakebite. One officer who was assigned to each car to maintain order and conduct training classes while en route, it was the senior NCO in each car who ran things. Most of the officers had state rooms and/or compartments, the size of which went according to rank. They were located in other sections of the train and we seldom saw them. The trip took four days, which was longer than the distance would usually take. Since we were a special train, we were often placed on a siding while a scheduled freight or passenger train passed us. This was not too bad. We were allowed to get off, stretch our legs, and talk to the locals if we were in a town. The people were very friendly, supportive, and included many veterans from World War II, who wished us luck. The Salvation Army, American Legion, VFW, and others came out with drinks and snacks if we spent a little time in one area. The most enterprising of the group could always find a way into town and come back with some beer or stronger beverages. I was assigned Sergeant of the Guard the second night out, which included the whole train. I had no problems to speak of, except I couldn't decide who made the most noise--officers or enlisted men. It was understood that moderate drinking was allowed, but if anyone got out of line it was stopped, so everyone policed themselves. Dining cars provided three great meals per day. In short, we had a memorable train ride to the West Coast. Since most of us had never been past the Mississippi River, we enjoyed the change of scenery. We arrived at Camp Pendleton the morning of August 12. We bid farewell to the boys going to boot camp, were assigned to barracks, collected our sea bags, and settled in for a short stay. The next few days were spent taking physical examinations, getting additional shots, being issued new ID cards, signing up for GI insurance, arranging for allotments to be sent home, the issuing of additional clothes, cleaning barracks, going to the mess hall for meals, and waiting for something to happen. Since I had recently been promoted to sergeant, I had the roll of delegating and observing. I was not a worker, but this changed drastically after we arrived in Korea. Camp Pendleton was a mad house. During the physical exams, If we were warm under the arm pits, we were assigned to a combat unit. On August 17, a number of reserve units from various parts of the country, including ours, were assembled on one of the parade grounds and each individual present was called by name and advised to report to a posted assembly area in the vicinity. My name and several others from our Chicago battalion were called fairly early and upon reporting to the officer in charge, we were instructed to return to our barracks, gather all of our personal belongings, pack, and report back in one hour. We were being transferred to the 7th Marine Regiment which was forming at Tent Camp II. Upon arriving at Tent Camp II, we were met and welcomed by a senior NCO. Our personnel records and other materials had been sent on ahead, so we were already on file at Regimental Headquarters. Our names were called again and several others and I were assigned to Dog Company, 2nd Battalion. We reported to Company Headquarters and I was assigned as squad leader, 3rd Rifle Platoon. Our Platoon Leader was a 2nd Lieutenant and a reservist like myself, but the platoon sergeant was a regular Marine. He was a great help in getting settled in. Initially my squad consisted of only eight men. Half were regulars and the remainder were reservists who had just arrived. The squad was eventually brought up to full strength (13 men broken down into three four-man fire teams, plus myself). I assigned the regulars as fire team leaders--two corporals and one PFC, even though the PFC would be over a reserve corporal in his fire team. This was approved by my platoon leader and sergeant. Everyone got along and worked together with no problems. The next twelve days were spent being issued weapons, field equipment, field training, and live firing. All excess personal clothing, etc. was packed and shipped home. We were allowed one sea bag, which was stuffed with as much clothing and other items as we thought necessary, plus the usual extra clothing and gear that was normally carried in our field transport packs. Evenings, if we were not out in the field and sleeping on the ground, were spent cleaning, walking the half mile to the outdoor theater, picking up our allotted two cans of beer for 25 cents, and trying to beat the sunset while taking an outdoor shower. If we were still in the shower when the sun went down, it seemed like a 50-degree drop in temperature in a matter of seconds. It got cold, even though this was still August. But everything in California is strange. Thinking back over the years, I think the chow was about as bad at Tent Camp II as anywhere I served. But taking into consideration the camp had just reopened after closing at the end of World War II and the Regiment was just forming, I suppose they did the best they could. On August 29, 1950, we were instructed to pack all gear and be ready that afternoon to board trucks and buses for San Diego Naval Base. I was able to call home and speak to my mother for a few minutes to let her know what we were doing, and with a lump in my throat, I said goodbye. We were transported late that afternoon to San Diego and immediately boarded ship. Korea-boundThe ship was the USS Thomas Jefferson (APA 30), a Navy Troop Transport. We sailed the evening of August 30, 1950. There was no fanfare, bands, or ladies waving their handkerchiefs as we pulled away from the dock. After moving down the channel and heading out to sea, we bid farewell to the lights of San Diego and the USA. Unfortunately, many on board would never come home, but we didn't know that yet. The ship was built and commissioned during World War II. It was single-stacked and was a troop transport in all respects. The men on board were mostly Marines besides the normal Navy crew. They were jammed in like sardines in various troop compartments throughout the ship. I have no idea how many men were on board, but there was very little room to move around below decks. There were a number of Navy nurses on board being transferred to various naval hospitals in Japan, but we rarely saw them. In addition to the men and ladies on board, there were Jeeps, trailers, cases, and boxes of miscellaneous gear, ammunition, rations, etc.--anything that could be stowed on board that belonged to the various companies, battalion, and attached units. Three meals a day were served. Everyone had a colored mess card to signify what time of the day they were allowed to enter the mess hall. Eating was accomplished by standing up at raised mess tables since room was at a premium. Food was fairly good, but not too plentiful. This was where I really started to lose my baby fat. It was fortunate that I had a bottom bunk with a small open space between the deck and my canvas bed. I was able to stow my sea bag and field equipment there and not have to sleep with it. There were four additional bunks above me and those sleeping there did so with their belongings around them. There was just enough room between the rows of bunks to move in and out, one person at a time. Regardless of the crowded conditions, the ship was clean. Of course, we kept it that way with morning wash downs and head cleaning. The one thing missing was the daily shower. Water was rationed and we had one shower during the entire period onboard the Jefferson. If we started to smell, no one noticed since we were all on the same boat together. I had been on board a similar ship for several days the year before at Little Creek, Virginia, so I felt a little at home on the Jefferson, although it was a little more crowded. My sea legs developed quickly and I only felt a little light-headed the first day out. I had no seasickness. There were, however, several who were sick for several days and a few who were sick the whole trip over. Motion sickness affected everyone in different ways. Many of us adjusted quickly. Others required more time. Some never adjusted. It is best to know one's limitations when traveling or one can have a miserable time. For those who get sick easily, traveling by sea, air, or car is not the best thing to do. Instead, find alternative methods or not travel at all. One should not join the Navy or Marine Corps if he or she gets sea sick easily. During our initial days at sea after leaving San Diego, the company was reorganized and I was transferred from the rifle platoon to the machine gun platoon and assigned as squad leader, second squad, third section. My section leader was Sgt. R.J. Reller, a regular. My new eight-man squad was composed of reservists from different parts of the country. Except for visual contact off and on during our days at Tent Camp II, we were not too well acquainted. Corporal R.E. Hael, who had been a member of my reserve company back home and we knew each other, was one of the new men assigned to my squad. I immediately made him my gunner and number two man. My main duty was to form the squad into a workable unit as quickly as possible and to assign duties and responsibilities to each member so he knew what his job was and what was expected of him. We all knew what a machine gun was and how to operate one, but most of us were unfamiliar with the finer details. Our platoon leader, 1st Lt. W.F. Goggin, arranged for us to conduct machine gun school in a partially empty storage room on a lower deck of the ship. We spent eight to ten hours a day detail stripping and reassembling our new weapon and learning everything the experienced members of the platoon could teach us during most of the two-week period. We reached the point where everyone could name all the parts, how they operated, and field strip the gun and put it back together, blindfolded. On two occasions we practiced live firing off the stern of the ship at empty crates the sailors threw overboard for target practice. Our platoon sergeant, S/Sgt. J. O'Neill, a combat veteran of World War II, was a master at the machine gun and a great help to all of us. One event that took place when we had been at sea for about ten days was that the Navy crew put on a show for us one night. They fired one of the ship's 5-inch guns with a star shell. Once the shell exploded and exposed the flare, all the ship's anti-aircraft guns--20 and 40mm--opened fire. It was quite a sight watching hundreds of tracer rounds going toward the burning flare. It reminded me of the 4th of July back home. We also received several more inoculations during a two-day time period. This did not help the sea sickness situation very much. Standing in line in a companionway outside of sickbay, with little ventilation and the odor of the serum hanging in the air, made everyone queasy. What the shots were for, we never found out, but I suppose they had a purpose. I would bump into a member of the old reserve company periodically who had been assigned to other units, both rifle companies and artillery batteries. There were about ten members of my original reserve company assigned to Dog Company, 7th Marines, who were serving in the various platoons. Naturally we saw each other often. The sea was fairly rough the whole trip over. When out on deck, one could observe being down in the trough of a wave and the peak would tower over the top of the ship's mast. We had a few nice days when it was reasonably calm. One of those days was a Sunday, so church services were held on the open deck with the sun shining and blue sky and white fleecy clouds overhead. We hit a typhoon south of Japan and it got extremely rough for about two days. All hatches were locked shut. No one was allowed out on deck for any purpose. Only cold food, sandwiches, and such were served. Many on board could not eat at all and seasickness was everywhere. Almost everyone stayed in their bunks or stood around holding on for dear life. It was not a pleasant experience. There was very little in the way of entertainment on board the Jefferson, and none on the Bayfield. At night, weather permitting, a canvas movie screen was rigged on the after deck and if we could find room, we could watch a movie. Reading material such as books, magazines, etc. were limited. Card games, of course, went on during what free time we had. In the evening the mess tables were dropped and we could actually sit down and write a letter. I think I wrote home almost every evening, even if I had nothing to say. Since there was no mail service in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, my family back home received a pile of mail the first time. We did not go directly to Korea. We arrived in Kobe, Japan, on September 14, 1950, after 15 days at sea. It was raining and generally miserable, but it was exciting to see and be in a new country and to see dry land. It was, however, somewhat sobering to think that just five years earlier, we were at war with these people, each one trying to kill the other. Japanese laborers came on board and started to make repairs and do other work on the ship, including attaching water and power lines. Water restrictions were lifted and we could at last get cleaned up. We were allowed to go ashore for a few hours and look around. When we left the ship and started to walk on dry land, we all had a problem initially with keeping our balance. We were so accustomed to the roll and motion of the ship it was difficult at first to walk on something solid. The locals probably thought we had been drinking beer all day. The city by that time had, for the most part, been rebuilt and there was very little evidence that we could see as to its virtual destruction during World War II. The people were friendly and we enjoyed just walking around. I guess we were too new to the area to get into trouble. Upon returning to the ship a couple of hours later, we were instructed to form a working party to help combat load a supply ship which was docked near us. We had eight hours of work and then eight hours off. Combat loading consisted of loading nonessential items in the lower holds and critical materials such as ammunition, rations, and medical supplies in the upper sections so they could be offloaded first. We did this for about a day and a half, then our machine gun section (two squads), one rifle, headquarters and weapons platoons of Dog Company were transferred to the USS Bayfield. The remainder of the company stayed on board the Jefferson. Initially rumors had us staying in Japan for a couple of weeks of further training, but the Bayfield sailed from Kobe to Korea on September 17 and the Jefferson left the next day. So much for rumors or, as we say, scuttlebutt. The Bayfield was an older Navy troop transport which had participated in the Normandy landing and was jammed to the overheads. There was no room for us below in the troop compartments, so we stayed and slept out on deck. Naturally it drizzled or rained most of the trip, so we spent most of our time trying to stay dry. We were not too successful. We arrived at Inchon, Korea, on the afternoon of September 21, 1950. Prior to leaving the Bayfield via cargo nets into Landing Craft Vehicle Personnel (LCVP's), we were issued field rations (canned goods) and ammunition. A sobering addition to the above were the grave registration cards given to us. They required the normal information--name, rank, serial number, unit, and next of kin. Reading further were lines that included cemetery, section, lot, row, and grave number. Welcome to the real world. Machine Gun SectionWe landed on Wolmi-do Island, Inchon harbor, loaded down with full field transport packs, weapons, rations, and a full issue of ammunition. I was personally armed with a light weight, six-pound, semi-automatic .30 caliber M-1 carbine which had been developed during World War II. It had a 15-round magazine and could fire one round each time the trigger was pulled, or a semi-automatic weapon. It had a muzzle velocity of approximately 2,000 feet per second, and had an effective range of about 300 yards. The weapon, in my opinion, was unsuitable for infantry troops. It was too light to use as a club in hand to hand combat, did not have the stopping power required to bring down the bad guys on the spot, and did not have an acceptable range. It had a bad habit of jamming when fired rapidly, and had to be kept completely clean at all times in order to function properly--something that was next to impossible under combat conditions. As time went by, we began re-arming our carbine-carrying men with M-1 Garand rifles and Browning Automatic Rifles (BAR) as they became available through casualties or other sources. These weapons were standard infantry arms. We were all trained to use them. They fired the same type of ammunition as our machine gun and were much more reliable in combat. They had more stopping power, were heavier if we needed a good club, and continued to operate even when they became dirty. They were, of course, heavier to carry, but the additional security and fire power was well worth it. Along with the carbine that I first carried when I got to Korea, I carried four extra magazines, two in a magazine pouch attached to my pistol belt and two in my pockets, plus a box of 50 cartridges in my pack. I also had a bayonet for the carbine, a K-Bar knife, and initially had two hand grenades. I had more later on and an additional can of 300 rounds of machine gun ammunition. Our personal arms would change as our length of combat service lengthened and as we, unfortunately, became aware of deficiencies and/or needs under combat conditions of our original personal weapons. Once ashore, we were also issued two additional hand grenades each, which we put in our pockets or anyplace else where we could find room. We picked up any additional ammunition if we wanted it. We then boarded trucks when it was nearly dark and were transported a short distance inland to a point approximately two miles south of Kimpo Air Field, where we settled in for a long night march. I believe the airfield had been secured by that time. Our objective was to move to the city of Seoul and assist in its recapture. I do not recall even seeing the airfield or any activity, in or out. I observed no enemy except dead ones and several destroyed Russian T-34 tanks from the time we landed at Inchon on September 21 until we made our initial assault at Seoul on the morning of September 26. I observed the first Allied dead on this trip. We passed four bodies covered with tarpaulin. Their feet were sticking out and they were wearing US Army combat boots. They could have been US Army personnel, South Koreans, or even North Koreans wearing captured boots. But they were not Marines, since at that time we all wore canvas leggings. From what we could see of Inchon itself in the dark, there was destruction of buildings and the movement of supplies, engineers, other service personnel and their vehicles moving in every direction. I'm not sure how far we hiked that night--it was several miles at least, but finally we stopped and took up positions overlooking a large valley. We dug an emplacement for our machine gun and then dug foxholes for ourselves. Watches of 50 percent were set, but I don't think anyone slept much that night since we were all uptight and rather excited with our new surroundings. In the distance we could see the red tracers of the machine guns of the 5th Marines ahead of us and occasionally green tracers fired back at them from the North Koreans. Periodically the sky to the Southwest would light up as the battleship Missouri and other large ships fired their guns at inland targets. A few seconds later we could actually see the large shells passing overhead. Shortly thereafter, the sky towards the Northeast lit up as the rounds landed and exploded. Sometimes we could hear the rumble off in the distance, depending on the strength and direction of the wind. The next morning, the 22nd, as soon as dawn started to appear, we were up and waited for the remainder of the Company who had remained on board the Jefferson. When they arrived later that morning, the battalion was complete and we proceeded by foot northeast towards the Han River and Seoul, the capitol of South Korea. During the day we hiked along trails, through rice paddies in the valley, and occasionally passed bodies of North Koreans and South Korean civilians killed during the fighting in that area a day or so earlier. By whom we didn't know or bother to find out, nor did we have time to stand around and gape at them. Their bodies had been collected and were along the side of the road or in the fields, awaiting burial. I remember our first full day in Korea was hot. It was around 90 degrees and dry. Our hike the night before showed that we were not in the best physical condition after all that time at sea. Everyone was stiff and sore and needed to get their leg muscles back in shape. But it faded after a few miles. During one break I suddenly felt hungry, as did others, since our last meal had been lunch on the Bayfield the day before. With the sudden departure from the ship, excitement of landing, and our first night in foxholes, no one thought of eating. We broke out our rations, since nothing else was available. I opened a can of something--I can't remember what, and started to eat it cold. It tasted like something that came out of the rear end of a cow, but it was food approved by the US government, so we ate it together with some crackers and grape jam from another can. We learned in a very short period of time that these canned rations tasted much better when they were warmed over a fire. We learned how to better prepare them using a little ingenuity. Water was a problem at first. We were advised that drinking water would be available by tank trailer on a daily basis. If a delay occurred, we could drink the water found in wells in villages and farms, but were to use the water purification tablets with we were issued--enough for two days. The first water delivery was made approximately eight days after our landing at Inchon and our involvement at Seoul. During the dry period we obtained drinking water from whatever source was available--wells, streams, etc., and no one to my knowledge got sick. Remember, it was very warm and dusty during the day and a person could get very thirsty. So much for government logistics. If I remember correctly, we spent our second night outside a small village, still west of the Han River. A few civilians ventured near our positions, but were told through sign language to stay away. This was still unknown territory to us and when we dug in for the night, we prepared a 360-degree defense perimeter. In short, we didn't trust anyone. My platoon did not suffer any casualties during our movement from Inchon to Seoul until the 23rd, when two men were wounded on our second full day in Korea. It was another warm, dry day as we marched northeast through some hilly country which included the usual rice paddies here and there. I can't really remember too much about the day itself except one event that shattered our peaceful hike. We stopped early afternoon for a short break and before we knew it, a mortar shell came in on us without warning and exploded. It hit close, since there was little warning of its arrival. Two men were wounded and the rest of us were scared to death. The wounded were helped by our Navy corpsmen and evacuated. I believe they were members of one of the rifle platoons, but I don't recall their names. It was either a short 80mm round from one of our units or a 140mm from the North Koreans. The more I think about it, it had to be one of our own since it landed right in the middle of us. If it had been North Korean, they would have plastered us after seeing the first shell land on target. Whatever it was, it was right on. We had experienced our first casualties and never found out who actually caused it. That same day, we saw our first dead Marines. They were wrapped in their ponchos and were on a Jeep going back towards Inchon. They were probably from the 5th Marine Regiment, since they were advancing towards Seoul in front of us. Frankly, I had very little feeling towards the dead North Koreans, or for that matter, the dead South Korean civilians we saw. Seeing the dead Marines only reinforced the feeling and knowledge that it could happen to any of us at any time. I felt sadness for the families back home when they received the telegrams advising them that their sons, husbands, or loved ones had died. My position as squad leader had been established in the active reserve before the war and continued on when called to active duty and joining my rifle company. I had been active in this area for so long that being in charge of a group of men seemed natural. I enjoyed the responsibilities of my position and working with other men. There was a feeling of being looked upon for leadership and setting an example that helped me personally in getting through some rough times simply because I didn't have time to worry about myself, but had the welfare of others to think about. Initially I was uptight and, frankly, was scared, especially after seeing my first dead and our two wounded men. But so was everyone else, including the old-timers from World War II. Those who had been in that earlier war described their experiences during the island hopping campaigns in the South Pacific when they were generally in action, or in the immediate area of action, for just a few days, followed by a prolonged period of rest and training. Action was heavy and brutal, but they knew that it would only be for a short duration. Most of the time they were never out of sight of Navy ships or their supporting gun fire. We were in a different war. Korea was a completely different story. We were in the hills and later mountains where ships and naval gunfire no longer existed. Our support came completely by tanks, air, and our own artillery. Days became weeks. There was no rotation or leave, R&R was unheard of, and there was very little rest. It became one hill after another. If one left the company, it was because of wounds or death. We were now in the same situation that our troops had experienced in Europe during World War II. Fortunately, I was able to concern myself with the other members of my squad and not so much on myself, but I still watched my own butt when necessary. The third day, the 24th, we crossed the Han River on armored amtracs. The 5th Marines had preceded us, so the crossing was unopposed. We were traveling a little faster now since we dropped some of our excess baggage. We cut down from a full field transport pack to single field packs and carried nothing but the basic necessities. Rations had finally caught up with us and we were now receiving a regular daily issue of one box of C-rations per man. We had learned to eat whenever we had a chance and not wait for infrequent breaks and starting small smokeless fires--if we could find any dry wood to heat the rations. Smokeless fires could be made by using small pieces of dry wood, such as twigs, but they had to be dry and the fire small. People have a tendency to build large fires when a very small one will do the trick. One could heat a can of rations on a very small fire that could be put out with his open hand. The 25th or fourth full day, we were on our own. The 5th Marine Regiment had changed direction and were attacking Seoul from the west. Our regiment was assigned to attack from the north and cut off any North Koreans trying to escape. This was probably the hardest hike we experienced to date. It was hot, dusty, and approximately 15 miles long along the Kaesong-Seoul highway (or dirt road). The terrain was, for the most part, hilly with scrub vegetation and some occasional woods which could be used by both sides, if either was lying down. The valleys were mostly rice paddies, water and mud, but we never spent the night in low areas. It was the high ground--and the higher the better. All roads, which were dirt, were located in the valleys. We stayed on the foot paths or trails for the most part and had to be very careful when walking anywhere due to mines. We were constantly on the move and usually spent the night in foxholes. The days of trench and bunker warfare were still in the future. Those nights when we didn't dig in--and they were few--we simply laid down in whatever ditch or low spot in the ground that we could find. To my knowledge, we were not harassed by snipers during our advance to Seoul, and except for the one mortar round landing on us on September 23, the hike was uneventful. We encountered no North Koreans during the day, but knew they were not too far away. Dog Company was assigned to establish a road block just a couple of miles northwest of Seoul and to cut off any North Koreans coming our way. It was a quiet night. Nothing happened, but once again, we got very little sleep. We did not see any live enemy until we reached the northern suburbs of Seoul on September 26, which was when we finally considered ourselves "on the front line." September 26/27, 1950Captain Richard R. Breen was our original company commander at Camp Pendleton, California, and was in command of our company in Korea until he was wounded during the first day's action in Seoul and was evacuated the next day. We never saw him again. He was later awarded the Navy Cross for his actions that day in Seoul. 1st Lieutenant William H. Goodman was our executive officer. He was slightly wounded in Seoul on the 26th, but assumed command of the company when Captain Breen was evacuated. He was wounded again the night of the 28th when we came under a heavy mortar attack by the North Koreans north of Seoul. 1st Lieutenant Paul B. Startwell assumed the command of the 3rd Rifle Platoon from the reserve 2nd Lieutenant whom I had originally been assigned as a squad leader while we were still at Camp Pendleton. He was also wounded in Seoul on the 26th and was evacuated. 1st Lieutenant William F. Goggin was platoon leader of the Machine Gun Platoon and I was assigned to his group on board the Jefferson shortly after we sailed from San Diego. Lieutenant Goggin was also wounded in Seoul on the 26th, and evacuated. He returned a few days later. He was wounded a second time just south of Koto-ri, North Korea on November 9, was evacuated, and we never saw or heard from him again. Other company officers were 1st Lieutenant Paul Mullaney, 1st Platoon, wounded September 26 in Seoul and evacuated; 1st Lieutenant Edward H. Seeburger, 2nd Platoon Leader; and 1st Lieutenant James D. Hammond, Mortar Platoon. All the officers were well-trained professionals who were well thought of by all. We were sorry to see them leave one by one under the harsh circumstances that we all experienced, but they were the ones who told us clearly before we landed at Inchon that some of us would be hurt and some probably killed, so get used to the idea. The 26th was a hard day on not only the officers, but also the enlisted men. My personal "baptism of fire" was on that day. Our company was ordered to advance south down the Kaesong Highway to the northern section of Seoul and make contact with the 5th Marines who had entered the city from the west and were somewhere on our right flank. MacArthur's headquarters had announced (prematurely, as usual) to make a big show that Seoul had been secured and all was well. We were advised of this and thought we would walk right in. We started out about 0630 and made good progress except for a blown-out bridge and a number of mines in and around the bridge. Once we were through this area, all was relatively peaceful. South Korean civilians were out in large numbers as we passed through a small village just north of the city. They were on both sides of the road, cheering, waving flags, and having a grand old time. It felt rather embarrassing, since I didn't think that we had done that much in their liberation. Our problem with all these civilians, we realized later, was that we were unable to send out flanking parties to protect our flanks--a cardinal sin in troop movement when in enemy territory. This never happened again during future operations. The company proceeded south to a cut or pass in the road between two hills. There we could see the city of Seoul and "Independence Gate." From the cut on the left side was a narrow band of thatched native homes and on the right were additional homes and I believe a school or office under construction. A little further down on the right side was a large red brick complex known as the Sudaemum Prison. This structure contained high brick walls, high guard towers, and firing ports at lower levels, placed there presumably to defend against outside ground attacks. It was quite a sight. We found out later that it had been used by the Japanese during their occupation of the area to hold POWs and others, many of whom were tortured and executed. It was not a happy looking place. There was considerable destruction in evidence. Part of the front wall of the prison had been destroyed by bombs and/or artillery fire. Some of the surrounding homes had been burned out and there were knocked out vehicles along the road leading into town. At this time it was noticed by all that the civilians had disappeared. Everything became rather quiet. The word was passed around to keep our eyes open. When we hit the pass and could look down into the city, Captain Breen placed the 2nd platoon (Lt. Seeburger) in the lead, followed by the 3rd platoon (Lt. Sartwell). Captain Breen and his headquarters group followed next, then our machine gun platoon (Lt. Goggin), mortar platoon (Lt. Hammond) and the 1st platoon (Lt. Mullaney), bringing up the rear. There were several other men with us, such as a Navy corpsman, an artillery spotter and his radio operator, and a nut case Navy seaman who had jumped ship (or tugboat) in Inchon harbor and joined our company. The later said he was "bored and wanted to do something besides puffing around and pushing ships into and out of docks." He found enough clothing, some given to him by us, to at least look like a Marine, and we gave him a weapon and some ammo. The officers said nothing so he became one of us for a short time and did a good job as a rifleman. His name was Taylor. He was petrified at the thought of going back to the Navy and what they would do to him. As it turned out, he eventually returned, since the Navy did frown on its members transferring to the Marine Corps in this manner. He got back before he was listed as a deserter. We never heard what happened to him, but if he's still around, he has some tall tales to tell. As soon as we came abreast of the prison, all hell broke loose. Machine guns and small arms fire from all directions except the rear hit us. Everyone dove for cover. I was 6'4" so I had a little harder time finding a place to hide than my shorter friends, but it is amazing what a person can find when necessary. Mine was a telephone pole on the left hand side of the road. My squad was behind me up the road, spread out and ducking wherever they could. Everyone was okay, so far. Lieutenant Goggin, our platoon leader, was ahead and ordered the 2nd section forward to support the 2nd platoon. One of the squad leaders, Sgt. Dick Harris, was killed as they moved forward, and Lieutenant Goggin was wounded at the same time. At this time, the 3rd platoon (Lt. Sartwell) was ordered to attack the prison and eliminate the North Koreans firing from that compound. Our 3rd machine gun section was ordered to support the 3rd platoon and to fire into the prison and any other area forward from where we were receiving fire. The 1st machine gun section set up on the left side of the road in support of the 1st platoon (Lt. Mullaney), who was covering that side. Since my squad was on the left side of the road, we had to cross over low and on the run, one man at a time. I went first to the corner of a house just on the other side. Firing was heavy since the North Koreans knew what we were doing, but I made it all right. I heard two loud cracks just behind my back--a close call. Any number of whizzing rounds passed by and overhead during the remainder of the day, but I didn't consider them as "close calls." After a while I could determine when to duck and when to ignore them. I waved for the remainder of my squad to come over, one man at a time at staggered intervals. One of my ammo carriers, PFC Vince Faine, a little guy and fun to be with, tripped and fell into a shallow ditch, dropping his two cans of machine gun ammunition. Naturally, the North Koreans started to concentrate their fire in his direction. I yelled at him to leave the ammo and get over to us immediately, but not to lose his carbine. He made it okay, but was scared to death and had the shakes. About this time, our platoon sergeant, S/Sgt. John O'Neill, who was a little forward of us with Lieutenant Sartwell, was killed. Sartwell was wounded in both legs. We set up our machine gun to fire on the prison and into buildings around Independence Gate. While the gun was firing at these targets, the rest of the squad was spread out and formed a defense line facing the prison. With their carbines, they were to fire at anything that moved in that area, but to watch out for our own men. My main concern was the direction to which my gun was firing and the rate of firing, since we didn't have an inexhaustible supply of ammunition and didn't know how long we were going to be there. After reloading my magazines, I fired (by actual count) 37 rounds at various windows, slits, buildings, etc. Did I hit anything? Who knows. It did not take long to determine that we had walked into the North Korean main line of resistance and that they had more troops in the area than we did. We were blocked on three sides and held only the ground we had occupied that morning. We stayed there for several hours. Firing in both directions continued during the entire time. Captain Breen called for tank support, but they were unable to reach us due to the blown-out bridge we had passed that morning. While this was going on, other North Korean units moved in behind us, so we found ourselves surrounded. Colonel Litzenburg, our regimental commander, was in radio contact with Captain Breen and asked him if he could hold or if he wanted a rescue attempt to be made. Breen told him that if he could pull the company back a short way and occupy the high ground at the pass on the right side of the road, he could set up a defense perimeter and hold on. Litzenburg told him to pull back. The conversations between these two officers were passed on to us a few days after we left Seoul. Naturally, as a Sergeant I was not in direct contact with or consulted by either officer, but I was relying on information received from others who had more direct contact at company headquarters. We maintained our position outside the prison walls, firing and taking care of some of our wounded until we were ordered to pull back to the pass area that afternoon. We picked up our wounded and went back across the road to the same location that we had crossed that morning. Along the way we picked up Faine's two cans of ammunition that he had dropped. We needed them since we were starting to run low. The North Koreans were not firing as heavily as before, so we had no trouble getting back. We dropped the wounded off at an improvised aid station and set up our gun next to the road on an outcropping overlooking the city--the same area that we had seen that morning. The forward artillery observer and his radio operator, who had been with Captain Breen during most of the day, joined us. As soon as the last of our company members reached our position, he called in artillery fire on the prison and other locations where the North Koreans were located. Unfortunately he had been unable to do this earlier since we had all been too close together. It wasn't long before 105mm shells began passing over our heads and exploding in the city. It was quite a sight. I had never seen heavy shelling like that before. A shell exploded and a building disappeared. We continued to receive small arms fire, but no counter attack. The artillery firing from our side continued on during most of the night. Late that afternoon, an air drop came in and gave us a re-supply of ammunition and other supplies. We were glad to see it, since we were starting to run low on everything. There was no sleep for anyone that night but we did manage to eat some cold rations. During the night, a Navy doctor and three Jeep ambulances made it into our perimeter and removed the wounded. Our total casualties during the day were 13 killed and 27 wounded. Those killed from our platoon were S/Sgt. John O'Neil and Sgt. Richard Harris. Among the wounded were Lieutenant Goggin, PFC V. Midkiff, PFC Joe Saluzzi, PFC R. Mazerall, PFC Tony Valetta, and PFC Oscar Kessler. All deaths and injuries in our platoon occurred during the first few minutes of action, when the North Koreans caught our company in the open beside the Sudaemum Prison and our taking up positions. Of the seven officers in the company, five had been wounded. Some of the wounded eventually returned, but not many. The rest we never saw again. It was not known until the next morning, the 27th, that three men from the 1st machine gun section had been left behind during our withdrawal. They hid during the night and were picked up at first light by patrols that were sent back into the city. The patrol found that the North Koreans had left, they picked up our three lost men, and made contact with the 5th Marines. For the next few hours after dawn, we spent most of our time checking civilian refugees moving in and out of this section of the city. Those moving out, especially those of or close to military age, were searched. We captured several North Koreans dressed in civilian clothes, trying to escape. That afternoon, our company, which now numbered approximately 190 men (down from the original 235) assembled and moved a couple of miles north to a small village where we spent the night. Our participation in the recapture of Seoul was over. It was strange sitting alongside the road with my squad. No one had been hurt, but we were all tired, hungry, and dirty. The one thing that came to my mind was that I certainly felt older after our first fight than I did during the days preceding the 26th, and I knew the rest of the guys felt the same. I had spent considerable time during and after high school being involved in military training through films, lectures by veterans, and actual field experience, with the thought in the back of my mind that someday I could actually be a part of a shooting war. Once there, however, I found that the "newness" of so many things was startling. No one is prepared for the mental and physical strain that is experienced immediately upon arriving at the scene, regardless of the training he or she has received--the extra loads of ammunition, rations, and the other equipment one must carry because there are no trucks or Jeeps to do the work, the long, hot, dry marches with few breaks, very little sleep at night, eating usually on the run, and the knowledge that somewhere out in front are people who want nothing more than to try and kill us. The newness of war disappeared very quickly once we saw our first casualties, both friend and foe, and set our mind to the fact that our old life was over and we had entered a new era. After the city of Seoul had been secured or recaptured, we never entered the central part of the city. We only saw the northern edge where we had been engaged. We encountered no one famous. The VIPs were not about to come into our area. I was not wounded during the Inchon/Seoul period, and fortunately did not lose any members of my squad. We were in need of warmer clothes, since the nights were getting colder after we left Seoul and headed north to the 38th parallel. We still had only our summer field dungarees and a field jacket, but these were staring to wear out. A pair of shorts and a T-shirt didn't help much either. I'm reminded of an old Marine Corps axiom, "Maybe you oughta get more, maybe you will get more, but all you can depend on getting is what you already got." Ammunition, however, was one thing we usually had plenty of during the South Korean campaign, and we had plenty of opportunities to use it. Training always emphasized a unit of this or a unit of that. We learned quickly to carry as much as we could and forget about authorized unit size I could write a book on just what we had to learn the hard way during our initial phase in Korea. What we did learn in South Korea was certainly put to good use when we arrived in North Korea--until the real cold weather hit us. Then it was a whole new war. On the afternoon of September 27, our company moved to a small village a couple of miles north of the city, where we spent the night. The first thing we did the next morning was to pick through some miscellaneous equipment collected from our casualties, which we dumped at battalion headquarters. Many of us were able to pick up an extra canteen and fill it from a water tanker in the area--the first one we had seen since originally landing at Inchon. We then started north towards the 38th parallel. During the next several days, we experienced two heavy mortar shellings, which caused many additional casualties. We participated in the recapture of the town of Uijonbu. We captured a North Korean supply dump which contained a large amount of American equipment and ammunition. I picked up a Colt .45 automatic pistol, and extra clips and ammunition, which went into one of my field jacket pockets. Many of the members of my squad and other platoons did the same. During this period our company lost an additional nine men killed and approximately 43 wounded. We were relieved on October 7 and were transported by truck back to Inchon. Back when we had originally arrived in Korea in mid-September, the weather was warm to hot during the day and it cooled off at night. As the days wore on toward late September, the days remained warm, but the nights turned colder, especially when we were in the hills close to the 38th parallel. No fires were allowed for obvious reasons, so it became rather uncomfortable or in short, damned cold. During the cooler nights we used the buddy system by digging two-man foxholes, hugging close together for body heat, and wrapping our ponchos and shelter halves around us for additional warmth. It was never enough, though. We were still cold and morning was filled with men starting fires as soon as possible with anything that would burn. Shortly before we pulled off the lines, we received a short sleeve pullover sweater--which helped a little, but that was it except for our field jackets, which we already had. The veterans in our company from World War II were as helpful as could be expected, since we all had to rely on each other. There is a lot to the saying "on the job training." Boot camp--if we had attended it--and post infantry training never taught us what real combat is really like. We could use our weapon, dig a hole, read a map if we had one, and dig a latrine if we had time and were located in the same position for an extended period. Most importantly, we knew how to follow orders without question from our supervisors. What we had to learn--and learn fast in Korea, was how to survive with little or no sleep, and how to survive when we were hungry, thirsty, carrying heavy loads of personal equipment, weapons, ammunition, rations, and (if we were lucky) water. There were very few highways in the mountains of Korea, and most of our supplies had to be air dropped, which meant climbing down to the drop area and carrying the loads back up hill. We had to learn how to combat or take advantage of the weather--hot, cold, dry, rain, snow, frozen, and/or rocky ground. We had to learn how to heat rations by making a smokeless fire, and how to go to the john without going on ourselves or freezing something tender. We had to learn how to keep our weapons in firing condition when cleaning materials ran out and were not replaced through supply channels. We had to learn how to forage for something to eat when rations were not brought up--in short, to live off the land when necessary. Improvise became a standard way of life. Gourmet MealsSince C-rations were our main source of food, we discovered after some experimentation that they could be prepared in different ways to taste rather good, depending on one's attitude. Remember, we were on our own when it came to cooking these rations. Some guys just never caught on, however, and bitched and bellyached, since their mom's were not there to do it for them. A box of C-rations was issued one per man, per day. If I remember correctly, it contained three cans of heavy meals, three cans of light items (crackers, a tin of grape jam, packets of salt, pepper and sugar, soluble coffee, bars of cocoa, cereal and candy. There was also one can of fruit, one package of cigarettes, a book of matches, a packet of toilet paper, one P-38 can opener, and a plastic spoon. After using the can opener and plastic spoon, if we didn't break them, they went into one of our pockets as a spare. After a while we had a collection of them. The heavy meals were either beans, beans and franks, beef hamburger patties, vegetable beef stew, ham and lima beans, spaghetti and meat sauce, pork sausage patties, and I believe chicken and rice. There may have been others, but I can't remember them if there were. In the cans of fruit were fruit cocktail, cherries, pineapple, or peaches. My favorites were beans, beans and franks, hamburger patties, vegetable beef stew, spaghetti, and chicken and rice. The best way to prepare them was to build a small fire to heat them. They were always better warm. Open a can about 80 percent, fold the lid back, and use that piece to hold on to the can. We learned not to place the can too close to the fire, otherwise the inside portion next to the can would burn. Once it started to bubble or steam, it was ready to eat. Salt and pepper to taste. Beans, beans and franks, chicken and rice, spaghetti, and chicken and rice were okay by themselves. Hamburger patties were good if we broke two or three crackers on top of them and mixed them in to soak up the grease. Vegetable beef stew made good soup if we added an equal can of water to it in our canteen cup and heated the whole mess. (Empty cracker cans made good containers for measuring and/or heating water.) Ham and lima beans were good--if one separated the ham from the beans, ate the ham, and threw the lima beans away. Spaghetti was also good, but it burned very easily. There were times when we found vegetables in root cellars of homes and farms and used some of these cut up in our canned rations for a change of taste. A pig or chicken also somehow found its way over an open fire occasionally. Crackers and jam made a nice snack if we were on the go and couldn't stop to make a fire. We never knew what was in our particular box until we opened it, so after weeks on end, we had the opportunity to try them all. Trading always went on, since everyone had their own preferences. There was a different brand of cigarettes in the box, so we traded others for our particular brand. Canned fruit was always good, especially if we ate the fruit, saved the juice, and mixed this with a little medical alcohol if the Navy corpsman attached to our unit had any. The cocoa and cereal came in a bar that resembled a hockey puck and was as hard as a rock. This was pounded into a coarse powder using a stone or the butt of our rifle. Mixed with water in our canteen cup and heated, it was good any time we could prepare it. The soluble coffee was awful, even with sugar and canned milk, so I never drank any. Occasionally fresh bread was brought up and distributed. There sometimes was enough that three or four men could split a loaf. It was very seldom that we had the opportunity to wash our hands or utensils before or after eating. (It would probably drive a modern day hygienist up the wall.) But no one got sick and the more time we spent in the field, the healthier we got. Operation Yo YoA couple of days prior to being relieved by the Army, we were dug in just short of the 38th parallel. A field shower and laundry was established not too far from our positions. The showers were outdoors (but who cared) and the laundry consisted of a large washing machine and dryer. We were taken over in batches by truck and for the first time since our arrival in Korea, had the opportunity to have a hot shower and wash our clothes. This was the only time during my service on land in Korea that we had these facilities available. We arrived at Inchon on October 7 and were assigned to an open area adjacent to a bombed-out factory that once had built submarines for the Japanese navy during World War II. There were no tents or cover of any type and we had no idea how long we were going to be there. Our first order was to turn in all hand grenades and other explosives, but to keep our small arms ammunition. Our next activity was to set up a sort of hobo camp using whatever materials we could find around the factory area. We used lumber, crates, pallets, anything we could carry to construct any kind of shelter we could. We used our ponchos and shelter halves to cover our huts, keeping out most of the rain. Each hut held four to six men and had a dirt floor, but by that time we were accustomed to sleeping on the ground. During the next seven days that we were located there, the days seemed to mesh into one in my mind, but I remember the following:
PX supplies were unavailable and neither was beer or hard liquor. We were a sober bunch, including the Navy corpsman who couldn't get any medical alcohol. Card games sprang up, but no one had any money, so matchsticks or bullets were used for betting. If we lost, we cleaned up the mess and replaced the cartridges back into the clips or machine gun belts. South Korean civilians came by the barbed wire fence and we traded them cigarettes for apples. The apples, by the way, were very good. Mail caught up with us and I was extremely lucky to have my family, including aunts and uncles from various parts of the United States and Canada write. There was never a mail call that I didn't receive several letters. I tried to answer everyone, but the supply of writing paper and envelopes was practically nonexistent. This was corrected when I asked all in my responses that, when they wrote again, to please include a blank sheet of paper and envelope with their letter. This solved the problem and I was able to drop everyone a line when I could. A couple of the squad members never received mail, so I asked my oldest sister Irene, who was attending Senn High in Chicago, if she and some of her classmates could drop them a line and just say hello. This proved to be a great morale builder and I eventually supplied her with the names of several other members of the company who began receiving mail from her English class. During this period, Captain Milton Hull joined our company as commanding officer. Lieutenant Mullaney, who had been in acting command, resumed command of the 1st platoon. On October 14, we broke camp, packed our gear and equipment, marched to the water front, loaded onto LCVPs (Landing Craft) and were taken out to Landing Ship Tank Q-090. This was a former navy vessel that had been given to the Japanese after the war. It had a Japanese crew and was to be our home for a while. Our company now numbered 175 men. It was originally 235 when we left California. Some of the officers and men who had been wounded earlier returned during our stay in Inchon, but we received no new replacements. Our LST, in convoy with a large number of other vessels, sailed from Inchon on October 15, 1950. Our destination was unknown to us at that time. Scuttlebutt had us going back to Japan. The war was supposed to be over and we would be back in California by New Year's. Or -- we were going to invade North Korea (which turned out to be true). Or -- we were going south to support the Chinese army on Formosa in their invasion of the Chinese mainland. Or -- we were going to simply head south to relieve the Army. We sailed south around the southern tip of Korea, then headed north, picking up additional vessels as we went until the horizon was covered with ships of all classes and designs. On deck, which had a 360-degree sweep of the horizon, we could observe ships of every type—LSTs, freighters, destroyers and destroyer escorts, command ships, and troop transports. Aircraft carriers and larger combat ships were supposed to be in the area, but were out of sight. We knew then that the war was not over and we were not going home. Our destination was to be Wonsan, North Korea. We were twelve days onboard and eleven days at sea before we got there. The vessel was a standard LST as seen in newspapers and films throughout the war. The upper deck was flat to carry vehicles of any type, including tanks, artillery, or for that matter, anything that could be stored outside, including troops. It had a superstructure aft that contained the bridge, galley, officer’s quarters, etc. Below the main deck was a large area for vehicles, tanks, or general cargo. The bow consisted of two large watertight doors which opened for unloading purposes either on the beach or in open water. Troop compartments, heads, and mess areas were located on each side between the center storage area and the hull. The engine room, crew’s quarters, and storage holds were located aft, below the superstructure. Meals were served in the galley, then carried by the individual down a flight of stairs (ladder) to the mess area. The troop compartments were spacious compared to what we had experienced on the Jefferson, with plenty of room for storage of our equipment and personal gear. We had sit-down toilets, which were a real luxury, and showers in the head where we were able to wash our clothes and ourselves. Top speed was about ten knots per hour, with a good wind blowing in to the stern. It was somewhat slower in a headwind. I cannot recall any direct contact with the Japanese crew during the twelve days spent on board. We saw members of the crew at various times when their duties required them to be in our areas, otherwise, they stayed by themselves in the crew quarters aft. There was a large number of people on board, but I never felt crowded. I have no idea how many US military personnel were on board, but my research has developed the following: Dog Company – 7 officers, 168 enlisted men, 5 Navy corpsmen, 6 artillery observers, 1 radio operator, 2 wiremen, 1 interpreter, 1 from intelligence, and also on board (but I never saw them) were 13 South Korean soldiers. In addition, there were the crews and officers for the Amtracs (Amphibious Tractors), which would take us ashore once we reached our destination. There were also drivers and maintenance personnel for the other vehicles on board. Originally our vessel and the convoy were headed directly toward Wonsan, but a small problem developed. It was discovered that Wonsan harbor was full of mines and the Navy had few minesweepers to clear them. Consequently, the convoy was diverted 180 degrees south for 12 hours, then turned 180 degrees north for 12 hours. I believe this commenced around October 19 and continued for the next seven days until the harbor was sufficiently cleared of mines for us to finally land on October 26. Back and forth. Back and forth. The whole operation was named Operation Yo Yo. While we were on board twiddling our thumbs, it was agreed that our whole division could have hiked from the 38th parallel to Wonsan—a distance of approximately 110 miles or so, bypassing our stay in Inchon, in six to eight days, taking our time. We were healthy and physically fit--sick and wounded weeded out, and could have eliminated the bands of North Koreans who were starting guerilla activities, harassing US and South Korean Army units. However, we were stuck on board ship doing nothing, simply because his royal highness Douglas MacArthur and his lap dog staff wanted to make another glorious amphibious landing like Inchon. Any type of weather was rough when sailing on an LST. The ship had a flat bottom, giving it its ability to land on a beach and to back out when unloaded by use of a stern anchor, which was dropped shortly before hitting the beach. The vessel rolled and pitched on a continuous basis unless steaming in absolutely calm seas. Some days were rougher than others, but for the entire 12 days, the vessel was in a continuous rocking motion. Seasickness showed its ugly head again with many on board, but I was again fortunate in not experiencing any. I don’t recall any severe storms, but there were periods of heavy wind and rain that kept us below decks except for our trips to the galley for meals. There was only one way to get in and that was to form a line port side aft and enter the galley one man at a time. If we got wet, too bad. I will never forget the food. Whoever made the arrangement to store our vessel must have had a deranged sense of humor, or he was a naval officer who hated the Marine Corps. The vessel was loaded with rice and rice and more rice. Three times a day we ate rice prepared in every conceivable way. Fried rice, steamed rice, rice baked in cakes, rice in patties. You name it. (I suggest a rice diet to those who wish to lose weight fast.) Once in a while someone found a can of corned beef hash or something else and added that to the rice. Oh, for the good old days of C-rations. One morning we had pancakes with maple syrup. The flour and syrup must have been borrowed from the Japanese crew stores, but it was quite a surprise. After I was served, I carried my tray and canteen cup full of coffee to the ladder leading down to the mess area. The ship was rolling a little more than usual, so I jammed my elbows into the hand railings and started down one step at a time. The food was very important to me and I wasn’t going to take any chances. When I was about half way down, the ship made a sharp pitch and my feet went out from under me. I slid down the remainder of the steps on my butt, landing in a pile butt first on the deck. My mess gear with the pancakes and cup of coffee landed on my head a split second later. Goodbye breakfast. No injuries except to my pride and sadness for a lost meal. I returned to the galley, got another cup of coffee, and a spoonful of rice. I spent the rest of the morning washing my field jacket and pants, which were covered with coffee and the remnants of my pancakes and syrup. We had no specific duties on the LST except our normal responsibilities to our squad members, and cleaning our compartment and head. We were, however, assigned one duty during the trip that made absolutely no sense whatsoever. We were sailing in the Sea of Japan off the east coast of Korea. All of the men, excluding the officers and senior NCOs, were assigned the duty of manning a watch on the bow and stern of the LST at night, regardless of the weather or sea conditions, to watch out for and report any mines near the vessel. Fortunately we never saw any mines since, if one hit the ship, we would have gone down like a rock. The question was, how and to whom were we to report any mine sightings? We had no radios or telephones, and to report in person meant leaving our post unmanned. By the time we made our way to the bridge, the mine would have hit the ship or passed astern and long gone. Some nights when it was rough, the bow lookout had to be tied to the railing to prevent him from falling overboard. One night I had the stern watch—the only one during the trip. The weather was fairly calm and the sky clear. I remember the moon. It was full and appeared so close that I could almost touch it and the stars. They were unbelievable. I stood my four-hour watch next to a life raft that was secured by a line (rope). My knife was handy and if we hit a mine, I would not hesitate to cut the line and follow the raft into the water and hope that some of the others on board would be lucky and get off before the ship went down. Fortunately, nothing happened. For the most part, it was so dark at night a person could hardly see the water, much less a floating mine. Most of the trip was quite boring. In fact, I can’t seem to remember on a daily basis what we did. At first we cleaned our equipment, weapons, clothes, etc., and accustomed ourselves to the ship’s motions. Food was the main discussion. There were no books or magazines on board unless someone had carried one in his pack. Mail was delivered periodically, so we wrote letters home if paper and envelopes were available. My supply was adequate since requesting paper and envelopes be inserted with any letters sent to me. PX supplies were also delivered with the mail, but these consisted mainly of pipe tobacco, cigarettes, and a little candy. Card games were probably the main source of entertainment, with matchsticks and bullets used for betting. As indicated earlier, no one had any money and no scores were kept. The losers cleaned things up and repacked the loose ammunition. I spent a great deal of time with a friend or two simply sitting in one of the trucks topside, looking at the convoy and the sea. It was very relaxing. We were able to spend as much time in our bunks as we wanted, catching up on sleep. This lasted for the first few days, then we walked around the vessel several times to try and keep our leg muscles limber. But this was not enough, as we found out after landing at Wonsan. There were no training exercises that I recall, and since we had received no replacements for the men lost earlier, we didn’t have to educate new men into our ranks. The platoons were reorganized, swapping some men around to reflect a more even balance of the various squads. I lost Bob Hael, my gunner and number two man, who was transferred to another squad as squad leader. Dick Alexander, a corporal and original member of our unit and assistant gunner, moved into Bob’s spot. I also lost one of my ammo carriers, Oscar Kessler, who was transferred to another squad. My squad was now six men instead of the original eight. We knew there would be more weight to carry, but that’s life. While we were at sea on the LST, South Korean army units, followed by US Army personnel, captured Wonsan. These forces were followed by Marine Corps air groups who occupied the airfield near our landing beach. Our actual landing was administrative and unopposed. If I remember correctly, two days before we landed at Wonsan, the entire company gathered in the bow section of the second deck and were given a briefing as to what had been going on in Korea since our departure from Inchon. We were told about the mine problem which had delayed our landing, and informed that Wonsan was now occupied by friendly forces, so there would be no opposition to our landing. Naturally, this did not bother anyone. There was some mention of Bob Hope putting on a show and making some dumb-ass remarks about the 1st Division still at sea. What we were going to do after we landed, no one seemed to know or wouldn’t tell us. We already had small arms ammunition and were advised that C-rations, hand grenades, and other explosives would be issued just before we boarded the AmTracs for the actual landing. Full field transport packs would be carried. Nothing was to remain onboard. Once we left the LST, it was goodbye forever. Our LST Q-090 arrived in Wonsan harbor on October 25 and anchored. We packed our gear, drew additional ammunition if needed, including hand grenades, explosives, etc., and C-rations. We had our last rice dinner (we hoped), and settled in for the night. A few of the guys opened their rations to have a quick meal and were told if they ran out tomorrow, too bad. They went ahead and ate anyway. I couldn’t blame them. We were all tired of rice, and we were hungry. A Whole New WarThe next morning all members of Dog Company proceeded down to the second deck and boarded the Amphibious Tractors (AmTracs) parked there. About mid morning, the front bow doors opened and the ramp lowered into the water. We left the ship and proceeded to our landing beach, which was near the Wonsan airfield. The harbor was full of ships of every description and the water was a little choppy. Naturally everyone got wet on the ride in since the tractors were open and exposed to the elements. It was actually a nice day--the weather was sunny and mild. Our field jackets were more than adequate. The short sleeve sweaters that we had received after Seoul were, for the most part, in our packs. Some US Army personnel were already at Wonsan when we got there, but I don't have any idea what units they were attached to. As mentioned earlier, units of the South Korean army had captured Wonsan on or about October 10--several days before we boarded the LST in Inchon, which made us question why the transportation by sea was made. Our division was always short of trucks since the Marine Corps was trained to move by foot and did not have the vehicles to transport large numbers of troops by this method. We still could have hiked up there from the 38th parallel and beat our landing date by two weeks. It is difficult to remember the activities that took place on a day to day basis after we landed at Wonsan on October 26. Days started to turn into weeks—some good and some bad. I had an old friend, O.J. Reiler, who was my section leader, machine gun platoon from Camp Pendleton, California to Chosin, North Korea. I was with him last October at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, for our annual reunion of Dog Company, 7th Marine Association. We had a great time after not seeing each other for 50 years. He would have been extremely helpful in discussing some aspects of the Chosin campaign, but I just learned three days ago that he died on February 12 at his home in Raleigh, North Carolina. It was a great shock to me personally. I remember that we formed a column of two and started to hike inland. We passed Marine F4-U fighters being serviced and we could see several Russian-made YAK fighters parked nearby. There was an oil or fuel refinery across from the airfield that had been subjected to air and sea attacks. It was pretty well demolished. The town of Wonsan itself showed little damage that I can recall except at the waterfront where we landed. Moving through the town of Wonsan, one file on each side of the road, I recall a unit of South Koreans (probably platoon size) marching down between our lines, singing and having a good old time. We passed a large monument commemorating the Russian seizure of Wonsan at the end of World War II. It had a Russian T-34 tank on top of it. There were many North Korean civilians in the area and we noticed a number of North Korean males of military age present. The South Koreans didn't seem to pay much attention to them, so neither did we. After leaving Wonsan we continued north along a railroad track. Walking was difficult due to our inactivity on board the LST, gravel, and ties on the railroad bed. We proceeded for approximately five miles (a guess) until we reached St. Benedict's Monastery, where we stayed for two days. We slept wherever we could find room--inside or out, on the floor or bare ground. The Monastery was selected as 7th Marine Command Post (CP), so there was considerable activity with the addition of Colonel Litzenberg and his staff in the area. Our company tried to stay out of the way by spending most of the two days in marches and field training exercises. When we got up that first morning at dawn, everyone was so stiff from the previous day's hike from Wonsan that we could hardly walk. Captain Hull solved this problem by taking us on a hike back to Wonsan and return to the monastery. We walked along the same railroad tracks with full field packs, weapons, and ammunition. The second morning we woke up not quite as stiff and never had that problem again as long as I remained in Korea. For a week, the weather remained much the same as it was at the time we arrived. Once we left Hamhung and started north, however, it became partly cloudy and the temperatures started to drop as we proceeded into higher altitudes and mountains. Mist and rain settled in occasionally, and being from the North, I could almost smell snow in the air. In fact, it started snowing while we were still south of the Chosin Reservoir, when the temperatures hit the low 30s. At first it was wet snow due to the warmer temperature. It soaked into our clothes and turned the ground into mud, which froze during the night. The higher we climbed into the mountains and the closer we came to the Chosin Reservoir and the temperatures dropped, the snow became dryer. Our mode of transportation from Wonsan to the Reservoir was: Wonsan to St. Benedict's Monastery about five miles by foot, and St. Benedict's to Hamhung about 35 miles by truck at night. The distance wasn't too great, but it seemed to take all night. We were packed in like sardines on benches running along the sides of the truck and on cases of C-rations packed in the center. Upon arriving in Hamhung we were herded into a warehouse which was pitch black inside. Everyone became lost. I simply laid down on the floor and figured I could collect my squad in the morning when we could see. The next morning we sorted ourselves out and were issued long johns and a heavy T-shirt. At least someone was thinking perhaps we might run into some colder weather. On November 1, we moved by truck from Hamhung to a point approximately midway between Oro-ri and Majon-dong, about 15 miles to an assembly area behind the 1st battalion, which was behind the 26th ROK regiment. We did not meet any enemy resistance from Wonson until we reached Sudong Valley on November 2. This was approximately three to four miles north of Majong-dong. The 26th ROK had proceeded that far north, where it stopped. The 1st battalion of our regiment moved through the ROKs and our battalion followed the 1st. The 2nd battalion was responsible for the seizure and control of the high ground on both sides of the Main Supply Route (MSR). This always confused me, as to the road designated name, since it was the only road in that part of the whole country. It was a narrow, two-lane, dirt road. In the USA, it would be referred to as a simple country lane. As we proceeded north along this road and into the Sudong Valley, we encountered a number of South Korean soldiers running hell bent for election south, abandoning their positions and most of everything else, including weapons. They were yelling, "Chinese, Chinese." This I remember quite clearly, since it was a good opportunity to replace some of our personnel weapons with possibly better ones. Ours were giving us trouble in jamming or simply being worn out. This was also our first direct contact with the Chinese in force and should have put everyone on notice that they were there. Our company assembled on the road and were ordered to attack and secure the high peak on the west side of the road known as Hill 698. This hill was very steep and fairly open, with little vegetation that could be used as cover. It took considerable time to work our way up. By the time we were close to the top, everyone was pretty well pooped out. We spotted a number of large rocks on the right side of the summit and decided to place our machine gun at that point so we could deliver supporting fire to the riflemen who were getting ready to make their final assault to gain the top of the hill. At that moment, a bullet went right past my right ear, making a sharp and loud crack which left my right ear ringing for about two days. Too close. We moved up a little faster and started firing over at where we thought the Chinese were firing from. The remainder of my squad were spread out and firing their weapons, which now included one BAR and a few M1 rifles. I still had my carbine and .45. The carbine was okay as long as I could keep it clean. We gained the summit and the firing continued until dark. The Chinese tried to regain the heights several times, but didn't make it. Easy Company moved up and relieved us about 10 p.m. that night and we were ordered to move back down to the road and valley. Our company lost two men killed and an unknown number of wounded during this engagement. The trip down in the dark was something that I'll never forget. All of our equipment and ammunition that we had carried up had to be carried back down (except what we had fired or consumed), plus the bodies of the two men killed and all the wounded who could not walk on their own. We slid down most of the way and could not see where we were going some of the time. Unfortunately, the wounded who were being carried fell off the stretchers, which did not ease their pain much. We finally reached the bottom of the hill, found the road, and set up a defensive perimeter for the rest of the night. I doubt if anyone got much sleep. Dawn came just a couple of hours later. I remember the area being some sort of an orchard and that the ground was cold. We were up at dawn and had a cold can of C-rations because no fires were allowed. We were instructed that we were moving up to support the 1st battalion, which was having problems advancing up the road. The South Koreans were long gone and the only other Orientals out there were Chinese. How many, no one knew. That morning, November 3, we started up the road toward the 1st battalion and almost immediately started to receive heavy automatic weapons fire (machine guns) from the surrounding hills. We took cover behind some large boulders and commenced firing back at the Chinese, while our riflemen started to work their way up the hills. Artillery and air strikes were called in and most of the morning was spent shooting at or being shot at by the Chinese. We held our positions, although the Chinese did attempt a counter attack, but we were able to stop them. Late that afternoon, our company was ordered to cross the river and road and seize Hill 727, where the Chinese had set up a road block and established positions on the hill, which blocked the road for any vehicle or troop movement. Air and artillery strikes were called in once again and worked over the hill. Our section sprayed machine gun fire over the area in support of the rifle platoons. It was starting to get dark when the riflemen crossed the river and road again and started up the hill. The tracers from our two guns really lit up the sky as we fired several hundred rounds during that period. The hill was finally secured by dark and our section followed the riflemen and waded across the river, crossed the road, and started up the hill, which was very steep. We passed several walking wounded and prisoners on their way down. When we reached the top, we dug in and settled in for the night. Ammunition for once was getting low and we could not count on getting re-supplied until morning, so everyone was ordered to fire only at live targets and not to waste ammo shooting at shadows. That night the wind picked up, blowing in from the north. It really turned cold. We still had no cold weather clothing except for the long johns received at Hamhung. We were still wet from crossing the river twice that day, and I frankly thought that we were all going to freeze to death. Just before dawn on November 4, the Chinese hit us with a mass attack and damn near chased us off the hill. Dick Alexander, my gunner, did a great job firing short bursts to conserve our short supply of ammunition, but at one point I had to use my .45 automatic because my carbine jammed. Dawn came and the Chinese broke off their attack and disappeared. The hillside was quite a sight with Chinese bodies laying all over the place. Many had been killed during the air strikes in which napalm had been dropped. They were burned to a crisp. Some scouts were sent out a short way to check the area for Chinese. They found only dead ones. Working parties were sent down to the bottom of the hill, helping wounded down and bringing up fresh supplies of ammunition, C-rations and water. After two days of combat with the Chinese, our company had lost a total of three men killed and about 40 wounded. An intelligence officer (captain) from regimental headquarters came up to look over our area. My section leader Sgt. O.J. Reller and I went out with him. A few yards out in front of our position, we found the body of a Chinese major and searched him for any valuables. I found some paper currency of 5, 1,000, and 10,000 Yen and a round disk with a mirror on one side and a small picture of two Chinese girls on the other. The captain found some other papers and put them in his case. I kept the money and the mirror for a souvenir. The money could always be used to start a fire, if necessary. I still have some of it and the picture of the two girls. These were the only two souvenirs I picked up while in Korea. The 3rd battalion passed through our and the 1st battalion positions and continued on to Sudong and Chinhung-ni. Our company was now down to about 50 percent strength and everyone was carrying mortar and machine gun ammunition, besides ammo for their own personal weapons. Once again, men were reassigned to balance out the platoons and squads and my squad now consisted of four men plus myself. Except for an occasional sighting at long distance of a single or perhaps a small group of Chinese, this was the only encounter of enemy troops that we had during our travels north from Sudong Valley to the Chosin Reservoir. As we proceeded north after the action at Sudong, the weather began to turn really cold and we still had no winter clothing. Around November 7, we were in position near Chinhung-ni when Colonel Litzenberg decided to send a volunteer patrol of 18 men to Koto-ri to see if there were any Chinese in the area. The patrol was composed of members of Dog Company with our platoon leader Lieutenant Goggin in command. Just about everyone in the company volunteered, so Lieutenant Goggin made the final decision as to who would go. Most were riflemen--two from the machine gun platoon and one Navy corpsman. He instructed Sergeant Reller and I to stay with the machine gun platoon, or what was left of it, and take care of things while he was gone or in case he didn't come back. Reller was to take charge and I was to be his backup. The patrol left about noon on November 8 and in total covered a distance of approximately 24 miles in 26 hours. A few Chinese were encountered and some small exchanges of fire took place, but the patrol reached the outskirts of Koto-ri on the 9th, reported no enemy in town, and returned to our lines that same evening. During one of the brief skirmishes encountered on this patrol, Lieutenant Goggin was wounded again in one of his hands and was evacuated. We never saw or heard from him again. A rather humorous thing happened around this time on our movement north from the Sudong Valley. My machine gun squad had set up a position out on a spur of a hill overlooking the north road going to Koto-ri and were in contact with the rest of the company by runner. I believe it was on the morning of November 6 or 7 and we had assembled our weapons, ammunition, and packs, and were waiting for word to rejoin the main body and to receive rations. About 7:30 or 8:00 a.m., no word had been received, nor had we received rations. I told Dick Alexander, my gunner and number two man in my squad, to take care of things while Charles (Chuck) Decker, one of my ammo carriers, and I went back to the company CP to find out what was going on. On our way down, we noticed the rifle squads were in their holes and enjoying their newly-delivered rations. Upon arriving at the company CP, I asked M/Sgt. Ralph Cherry, our First Sergeant, what was going on and what happened to our rations. He said that we would be moving out sometime during the day, but didn't know when. I was to have my squad ready to go any time. As far as our chow was concerned, it was supposed to have been sent to us, and he had no idea where it could be. He pointed to a truck a few yards down the road and said they were the ones who brought everything up. Maybe they had something left over. Chuck and I went over to the truck and I told the driver that I had a machine gun section of 14 men back up the hill and we had not received any rations for the day. Where were they? His first comment was, "Tough shit." I took my .45 out of my field jacket pocket, cocked the hammer (the weapon was loaded and had been used recently at Sudong Valley) and told him that the business end of a .45 stuck up his ass would change his views on life. He said that he had no more C-rations, but there were several cases of 10 in 1 rations back in the truck that he was delivering to battalion headquarters. He told me to go ahead and take a couple. Ten in one were supposed to be ten rations for ten men--one meal. I thanked him for his kindness and told Chuck to climb into the truck and toss out two cases. We then proceeded back up the hill to our position. When we arrived, Dick Alexander said our seven boxes of C-rations and some ammo had arrived just after we had left. I guess I had stretched the truth a little. I didn't have a section of 14 men. I had a beat-up squad of a total of seven. The C-rations had been misdirected and we could always use the extra ammo. We opened the cases of 10 in 1, which contained canned bacon, powdered eggs, fruit, candy, and all kinds of goodies. Small fires were built and some of the bacon was fried. We added water to the eggs and heated them. We loaded all remaining items in various pockets and packs where we had room. There were periods after that on our way to Koto-ri when we were able to prepare various items of our ill-gotten gains to supplement our C-rations. We moved into Koto-ri on November 10 and took over as many houses, huts, barns, etc., as we could for shelter. I don't recall the exact temperature at that time, but it was getting to be damn cold, even to a Yankee boy like me from the North. While we were in Koto-ri, we were finally issued fur-lined parkas that were full length with hoods. No winter boots or gloves were available, but the parkas certainly helped. They must have weighed 20 pounds, which added to our loads, but the extra weight was worth it. Up until that time, any newspapers that came into our hands were stuffed into our clothing for insulation. It was a trick the old hobos used during the Depression in Chicago, and it worked. The guys from the South thought I was crazy until they tried it. About this time we received our first replacements. By actual count 21 men joined our company. They were mostly riflemen, but one man was assigned to my squad. Reller had taken over as platoon leader and I temporarily became section leader of two squads instead of one. The new men had enough clothes and equipment to furnish the whole platoon, so we made things easier for them by telling them what to bring and what to leave at the company CP. My man was fortunate enough to have two blankets in his sea bag. He kept one and I helped myself to the other. The rest of the old-timers in the company had the opportunity to replace or add to their wardrobes. The blanket certainly came in handy. November 10 was the 185th birthday of the Marine Corps, but there was no party this time. Dog Company celebrated by digging in--or scraping into the snow, in an area approximately 1000 yards north of Koto-ri and just west of the road. That night the temperature dropped to around 8 or 10 degrees below zero with winds 30 to 40 miles per hour. Happy Birthday. The next morning snow was about two feet deep in some places and everything was frozen solid. Fires couldn't be started fast enough, but thank God for the parkas. I can recall snow drifts four to five feet deep in some cases. If an area was exposed to the strong wind on the flat ground or windward side of a hill, it was generally bare, but the lee side had snow several feet deep. My attire now consisted of:
I had no gloves or winter boots yet. The rest of the men were wearing about the same--or extra if they had it. Just before reaching Hagaru-ri, we received the second replacement draft which consisted of nearly 100 men. 1st Lt. Arthur Weber was assigned as our platoon leader and S/Sgt. Art Wills of the 1st replacement draft was assigned as our platoon sergeant. Reller and I resumed our normal positions. In addition, I received three new men for my squad. Dog Company was once again at nearly full strength. I don't recall the names of the new men. The reason fo | |||||||||||||||||
