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Albert H. StylesWindsor, CA "With regards to my survival at Chosin, I do not have the faintest idea why I was spared, if that is what it is called. I have asked myself many times over the years how in the hell did I ever make it out of there when so many didn't. I guess it just wasn't their day. We all did what was expected of us, sometimes above and beyond." - Albert H. Styles
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Memoir Contents:
Pre-MilitaryMy name is Albert H. Styles and I was born at the Stanislaus County Hospital in Modesto, California. on the 5th of October 1929. My parents were Albert Edward Styles and Doris (England) Styles, both born and raised in England. My father was born in East Grinstead and my mother was born in Westminster, London. Mom and Dad were farming in the Modesto area at the time I was born. I had two older brothers. My older brother is retired and living in San Francisco, California. My next older brother, who was a Marine during World War II and Korea, passed away. I went to grade school in San Francisco. The elementary school I attended was Admiral Farragut. The junior high was Aptos and the high schools were Samuel Gompers Trade School and Balboa High School, where I was a member of the Junior ROTC. In late 1946, we moved to Sonoma County, and there I attended Healdsburg High School and Analy High School. Nearly two decades later, I received my diploma from Analy in 1967 after completing the apprenticeship with the Navy apprentice program. The dean of boys at Analy felt that I had earned enough credits to give me my diploma. I worked at the Priscilla Cake Box bakery during high school in San Francisco. I greased the cake pans and helped the doughnut maker. In the Sonoma County area, I worked at various Jobs, including on the family farm. After high school I continued working on the farm pruning grapevines and fruit trees and I also worked in the woods falling timber and at a neighboring sawmill as a mill hand. I also worked in his saw mill as a mill hand. The daily newspaper and the radio were the big information centers during World War II. My parents, my brothers, and I were interested in what was going on in the European area because we still had relatives living in England. During the war, my father worked at Oakland Naval Supply Depot. My oldest brother worked at a shipyard that built landing barges, and my next older brother worked at the Mare Island Naval Shipyard prior to joining the Marine Corps. To be truthful, I don't remember doing anything extra special while in school that helped the war effort, except maybe having war bond drives. I saved rubber bands, tin foil, and tin cans. In late 1947, I left work at the mill because we moved to Forestville in Sonoma County. There I worked on the farm that my parents leased, as well as at a sawmill in the Graton area in Sonoma County. In 1949, my parents bought some property in the Santa Rosa area of Sonoma County and we eventually moved there. My dad and I took a cottage apart piece by piece, numbered the pieces, and reconstructed the cottage on the property my parents had purchased. I worked at various jobs around the county until I had to go to Korea. Joining UpThere is a strong military background in my family. My father went to Canada in 1906 to work on some of the big stone projects going on at that time, like the seawall at Port Arthur on the west coast of Canada. He also worked at the Eaton Smith Department store in Winnipeg during the winter months. When World War I came along, he enlisted in the Canadian Army and went to Belgium until the end of the war. He was wounded during the first battle of the Somme and received the medal for meritorious service during the second battle of the Somme. My mother's family--ten brothers and two sisters--were quite military minded. All of her brothers were in the British Army serving in India and South Africa during the Boar War and World War I. Also, she had a cousin in the Scots Guards and a brother-in-law that was in the Horse Guards. So as my brothers and I grew up, we were well-versed in the ways of the military. Mother was all for my brother and I joining the Marine Corps because she felt they were the best branch of the American military. She had seen our Army and Navy people in England during World War I and was not impressed. I remember when I was quite young being on Market Street in San Francisco and seeing this person in a blue uniform with yellow chevrons, white hat, and belt. He was a master gunnery sergeant and he was quite tall. He really stood out in the crowd. I asked my mom what this guy was and she said, "That is a Marine." From that day on I was impressed by Marines. Dad on the other hand, after having spent four years in the trenches during World War I, thought the Navy would be better because he said you would always have food and a dry place to sleep. He was right, you know, but we still preferred the Marine Corps. I enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserve the 24th of June 1948 to keep from being drafted into the Army. At the time, the quota for Marine Corps enlistment was one per quarter for all of Sonoma County and Mendocino Counties, so the local recruiter would rather take a 17-year old than a draft age 18-year old and up, the reason being they were enlisted under the same requirements as the draft. The other problem was that my teeth were too bad to pass the Marine Corps physical, so the recruiter suggested the Marine Corps reserve. After being enlisted as a reservist, I could then request active duty. That fell though the cracks because they wanted people with prior military experience. I was a Marine Reservist who did not attend boot camp. I was a member of Company C 12th Infantry Battalion and as a member of this unit attended three summer camps at Camp J.H. Pendleton in southern California, and I attended all of the scheduled drills prior to being called up for the Korean War. The battalion HQ and A Company was at Treasure Island; B Company was at Bakersfield; and C Company was in Marin county. The company had a lot of hill country to train in, which we did quite often. I personally feel that I was capable of carrying out my assigned MOS, which at the time was 0311. During the period prior to being activated, the company continually trained at the home armory in all fields of infantry tactics. That included close order drill, military courtesy, field stripping and cleaning of all Marine rifle company weapons, how to stand sentry duty, field sanitation and hygiene, discipline, and other duties related to being a Marine. Because I had been in the Junior ROTC program in high school and was on the rifle marksmanship team, this all came real easy for me. At summer camps we could have liberty every night, but we were pretty well used by that time so we usually went to the outdoor slop chute and drank beer at 10 cents a can until dark. We then usually went to an outdoor training area movie and then fell asleep. We got a lot more advanced training while at ITR, such as live firing exercises that were conducted by the ITR (infantry training regiment) personnel. We were also taught squad and fire team tactics, bayonet drill, hand grenade, and rifle range. In fact, I always fired sharpshooter. We were taught all of the weapons used by the Marine infantry company. Our own company officers, staff NCOs, and NCOs also did their part of the training. During the 1950 summer camp prior to going to Korea, we were instructed in the procedures for amphibious landings using old landing barges and mock-ups of the side of a ship with cargo nets and all. We climbed down the nets and back up the nets until we got it right, and then we assaulted a mock-up landing area with all of the frills, like planted explosive charges to assimilate incoming artillery fire. We were taught marksmanship, tactical firing problems, night field problems, night compass marches, hand to hand combat, the bayonet, the company in night defense, arms firing discipline, etc. One of the things they did not teach us was how to cope with what was going on around us, like people dying and getting pretty badly shot up. But I personally found that the experience of real combat eventually taught a person that. War Breaks OutAt the time the Korean War broke out, I was working in a lumber mill as a mill laborer and on the family property where I lived. I had a steady girlfriend who was wearing a ring that had been given to me as a present from a friend. When the Korean War broke out, my reserve battalion was at summer camp and we were in the final week of training. Our company commander passed the word to us that we would be returning to Camp Pendleton to be given physicals to see if we were combat ready health-wise. We did things like make out insurance policies and get reclassified and reassigned. I was assigned to the 11th Marines, which was the artillery regiment for the 1st Marine Division. I did not receive any additional training. All of the people that went to the 11th at that time were put into casual platoons and gathered equipment for the 1st Battalion, 11th Marines. That is when I found out that 1/11 was already in Korea as the artillery for the brigade. I knew that the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade had arrived in Korea and that they were in some pretty heavy combat and doing what Marines were trained to do. The only thing that I knew about Korea was what I had learned in Senior Problems in high school, and that was that Japan had invaded the country before the second world war, and that at the end of World War II the U.S. had taken South Korea under its care, had a protective alliance with them, and we had troops there as an occupation force to teach the South Koreans how to protect themselves. Russia had done the same with North Korea. I also knew that 38th parallel was the separating line between the north and south, so when North Korea attacked the south, it obligated the U.S. to protect them. Many people then and at the present time have asked me if I had wanted to go to war. Hell no. I was just starting to enjoy myself. In 1950, our president wanted to disband the Marine Corps, put the Marines in the Army, and make good soldiers out of them. When the 1st Marine Brigade went to Korea, it must have changed his mind. I didn't have any attitude about the war except that we already had troops there to put down any kind of disturbance that might arise and that it would be settled in short order. My buddies and I did not believe that we would be going to Korea without passing go. (Ha! What did we dummies know?) As a result of that thought, I didn't do any big things about my car. I told Mom and Dad to use it if they needed it and that I would send home an allotment to help them out. They never used a cent it. I also left most of my civvies home because I could buy new clothes at the PX. Insurance was taken care of when we arrived at Camp Pendleton prior to leaving for Japan. My parents saw me off the morning that I had to report for troop movement to Camp Pendleton. We left from Port Chicago in the San Francisco Bay area by train. When we were in a casual company waiting to be reclassified and transferred to our assigned units, we went to the slop chute and listened to the news or read the newspaper, and my mother and father kept me posted on what they had heard. I know that my parents were a bit shocked when they got the news that I was leaving for Japan and could possibly be going to Korea. My next older brother did not like the fact that baby brother was maybe going to war. He was stationed at Treasure Island at the time and was later transferred to Pendleton as demolitions instructor. He was a demolitionist during World War ll. He volunteered in the spring of 1951 to go to Korea. (When I met him over there, I told him what an idiot I thought he was.) I never really knew what my other brother's reaction was, but my girlfriend had the stupid idea that I was purposely doing this thing. Wow, what great fun. We had hit on the subject of marriage and I told her that I wouldn't marry until I was 21. Of course, I turned 21 while in Korea. We had a steady, intimate relationship going when I left, and she was wearing my ring. I was gone from home for 13 1/2 months, so I guess that the war had really screwed me around, because when I came home I didn't have a girlfriend. (By the way, she never gave my ring back to me.) Trip to KoreaThe division sailed for Japan on the 15th of August by ship. If you haven't been to the Orient, I can tell you that the place is a cesspool. It is quite dirty. So about two days out from arriving in Kobe, Japan, the water started getting a brownish color to it. The closer to Japan that we got, the darker brown the water got. I was on the William Weigel, an MSTS ship. I think it took 11 days to get to Japan, where we spent the next three days in Kobe, loading equipment onto the Japanese manned LST'S for the 1st battalion 11th Marines who were at the Naktong River in Korea. When I first got to Japan I thought that the city of Kobe smelled pretty bad. The water in the harbor was brown and raw sewerage ran in the gutters. The women allowed their infant children to relieve themselves in these gutters. There were restrooms located at various places throughout the city, the most popular being the train stations. On one occasion while I was urinating against the designated section of the wall, I was interrupted by the cleaning lady mopping the floor around my feet. Now I don't profess to be a sainted angel, but that was a little embarrassing. The cleaning lady didn't mind. She waited until I was done. A typhoon hit Kobe while we were loading out to go to Korea. I had never been in such a violent storm as that was. The ocean rose up in the harbor enough to break the mooring lines on the ships, and several ships were drifting in the bay with no steam up. The only ships that got out of the harbor were the LST's because they were diesel powered and started up just like an automobile. The storm only lasted about a half hour, but in that time it tore the hell out of downtown Kobe. The houses in Kobe were paper, spit, and glue. The people that lived up on the high ground didn't suffer any damage. Mostly Europeans were up there. After the typhoon ended, we left Kobe for Korea in Japanese manned LSTs by way of the inland passage. We left Kobe in the late evening of the 1st of September and arrived in Pusan in the afternoon of the 3rd of September. It was a real calm, 36+ hour trip to Pusan through the inland sea from Kobe. We had the run of the ship. There weren't any cooks onboard our LST, so we had the galley open round the clock--a help-yourself type buffet of cold cuts. But all good things come to an end. On our way to Korea, the water greened up again until the next day out, when it started to get a dark brown and kept getting darker (darker than Kobe harbor) as we approached the Pusan harbor. The smell started getting intense. In fact, it was rather overwhelming. I adapted to the smell in a few days. Arrival in KoreaWe arrived at the quay in Pusan harbor in the evening. The ramps were lowered on the LSTs when they finished mooring them and we all toured the area around the landing site. We found no Marines anywhere, so watches were set and we spent the night on the LST. I don't think they knew the word cleanliness in Pusan. The town smelled like an over-full outhouse from the time the ship sailed into the harbor. (I remember getting these young kids as replacements and the first words they said was, "What the hell is that smell?" The water was a dark brown and looked thick almost like it could be stirred. The city of Pusan was dirtier than Kobe. They didn't have any restrooms. They just went wherever it was convenient to relieve themselves. Hell of a place. I don't think you could dig a foxhole deep enough to get away from the smell of human fertilizer. They had been putting it on the ground since time began. My 11th Marine CO back at Camp Pendleton gave us a lecture every morning at formation. He told us that we wouldn't be able to drink their water or eat their food. Damned if that old China Marine wasn't right. I don't think those people had a lifestyle. They lived in houses put together with mud and sticks, kind of like adobe. The roofs were rice straw. There were some brick buildings but not many. The next day, we went up the road where we joined up with 1/11. When we were en route to join 1st battalion, I saw my first dead gooks. There weren't any live ones around at that time. I really didn't give it much thought then because they were the enemy and they happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't see any dead Marines at this time. It wasn't until Inchon that I saw any dead Marines, and at the time everything was hurry up and move out. When we joined 1/11, they were set up on the road to Miryang where they were supporting the 5th Marines at the second battle of the Naktong River. At that point, I became a member of the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade, and a month after leaving home, I was at the front lines in Korea. I probably need to back up a bit here and fill in some things about the Brigade. The Brigade left the States somewhat undermanned. The 5th Marines were short three rifle companies, one from each of the three battalions. The 1st Battalion, 11th Marines went out there with four gun batteries, so instead of 18 Howitzers they had twelve due to peacetime table of organization. When we were still in the states at Pendleton, all of us that were not retained in Regimental Headquarters or second or third Battalion were assigned to the 1st Battalion. We were formed up in two platoons and then called the "casual people." It was our job at Pendleton to gather up all the needed additional equipment for 1st Battalion's needs to bring them up to strength. This consisted of twelve or so 6x6 trucks, six Howitzers, and all kinds of other knick knacks, including some we got for ourselves, like Kabar knives, new field jackets, newer type first aid kits, etc. When we got to Kobe, Japan, it was our job to round up all this stuff and load it onto the LSTs that were going to take us to Korea. Straight into BattleOn the second day ashore in Korea, there was a tank battle going on. We were held up on the MSR when one of these gook tanks spotted one of our antitank units on the ridge above us and made a direct hit, injuring the crew. When the ambulance jeep passed us, I could see one of the Marines with quite a bit of blood on him. Dirt was caked up in his blood, making it into mud. I thought what a lousy way to go out, but there was more of that to come. I had never seen death as it was in Korea. Back in the states, there was an occasional funeral or an automobile accident where someone had died. I remember that once a school acquaintance of mine drowned, but nothing was as bad as what I would ever experience in a combat situation. When I first arrived in Korea, things were pretty kicked back. I had visions of conquering the North Korean army, but it didn't happen that way. The new arrivals went out with a group of cannon cockers while they test-fired the new howitzers. The security people were their body guards. They did show us how to cut charges and put artillery rounds together, but otherwise we could go into town, check out the local residents, and try some of their beer. We were armed with M1 carbines which had been issued to us before we left the states. While we were still at Pusan, we met individually with the sergeant in charge of the security platoon, Tech Sergeant Taylor, and his assistant, Sergeant Dixon. We had to demonstrate what we knew about weapons. I had no problem there. I had had many lectures on how to field strip weapons. I was the only one of us four that could field strip the .30 caliber light machinegun and the Browning Automatic Rifle, and knew how to load and fire a rocket launcher. The majority of the veteran warriors in our battery were younger than us and resented our outranking them. Three of us were corporals and there was one senior PFC. They had been in Korea less than a month more than us, but they were not about to give us any help. They loosened up after the Inchon landing. Officers seemed to be kind of scarce in this organization. I was used to seeing the company, or in this case, the battery brass, at least once a day. The battery CO was Captain Brayshay, who had a huge handlebar mustache. I think the reason he came to see us was to check out his four reinforcements. The battalion CO was LtCol Woods. The first sergeant came by to let us know that we could buy beer at 10 cents a can, so between us we bought over three cases. He also told us what our mailing address was because none of us had mailed any letters yet. We were told that we were members of H&S Company, 1st Battalion, 11th Marines, 1st Provisional Marine Brigade Reinforced. We kept that title until sometime after the Inchon landing. I was assigned to the security section which maintained the perimeter defense for HQ battery. I didn't know a soul there. I had no complaints about it because that was what I had been trained for. When we were reclassified, I was assigned an 0311 MOS, but the 11th Marines were looking for truck drivers for 1/11. When the classifying individual remembered this, he asked me if I had ever driven a truck. When I said yes, he asked me what size, how many wheels, and what type of shifting and rear end. I had driven a logging truck that was similar to the Marine Corps 6x6, so he changed my MOS to 3500. But I didn't work at that MOS. Instead, I was assigned an 5800/0331 by our Headquarters 1/11 first sergeant. That was the MOS for security personnel and machine gunner. He also assigned an MOS 0811 to me, which was field artillery cannoneer. I was never in a firing battery. I mentioned earlier that it was a kicked backed situation in Pusan. We ate morning chow in the building that we were housed in by our cook and noon and evening chow on the APA USS Pickaway. The only duty we had was standing fire watch during the hours of darkness. It was quite apparent that a war was in progress because we could hear artillery firing in the distance and the countryside was marked with shell holes, although not in Pusan itself, but the outlaying countryside. We didn't stay long in that part of Korea because the brigade was ordered back to Pusan to regroup and prepare for the Inchon landing, although we didn't know that at the time. I had a CO who told us that after the first shot is fired during an encounter where the enemy is concerned, you're a veteran. The only way I can explain my own personal feeling about a combat situation is that it was similar to when you were in grammar school and they passed the word that you had to go see the school nurse for a physical exam. Being a boy, that meant taking your clothes off in front of a female. That was apprehension. When I was in Korea and got that feeling of apprehension, I would light another cigarette, no problem. It didn't take long for me to come to grips with the thought of being in a shooting war. I wasn't ever really scared because if you lose your cool in combat, your ass might be grass. But to this day, I still duck or flinch when I hear what sounds like a shot being fired or an explosion that is close to me. It's all part of the game. I guess. Inchon InvasionThe brigade departed Pusan on the 13th of September 1950. The day was somewhat fouled up for me. The first sergeant told me to report to the people on the Q-052 because I was going with them to 1/11's destination. So I jogged down the quay to where the LST was moored and waited while the roll was called. As a name was called, a Marine went on board. Well, I was the last man standing there so I approached the person who was calling the roll and reported my name, rank, and serial number. They checked their muster sheet and lo and behold, my name was not on it. The CO (Captain Hoffstetter) gave the word to saddle up and get under way. The ramp was raised, the bow doors were closed, and the LST backed off the quay. All of this took place in a matter of maybe 10 minutes. I thought to myself, "Holy Christ. What the hell do I do now?" I looked up the quay and my first sergeant was waving to me to return to where he was. So I went to Inchon on the Q-030. The other three Marines that joined H&S 1/11 with me were onboard this LST as well, so I had buddies to go with. The LST closed up, backed off the quay, and away we went. The next morning the Q-052 signaled the Q-030 to ask where I was, so evidently they got their shit together and found my name somewhere. There were four LSTs in our group that took the battalion to Inchon, and three APAs--the Pickaway, Cavalier, and Henrico--for the 5th Marines. On the next day at sea, the battalion CO had everyone muster forward on the deck, where he told us where we were going. 1/11 was to land on Wolmi-do with 3rd battalion, 5th Marines. He told us what to expect once we got ashore, and gave a short speech about what living condition were going to be like, He then dismissed the troops. The next morning--the 15th of September--the LST entered the channel that led to Inchon Bay. As the ship closed on the channel, we could see the other ships that were going to take part in the capture of Inchon. There were several U.S. Navy LSTs, DE's, Rocket Ships and the beach master's ship. All of the big ships were off shore out of harm's way. These were the cruisers, battleships, carriers, and various supply types. None of these ships were visible to us, but we were told that they were out there. While the ship was making its way down the channel, we were served morning chow, which by tradition was steak and eggs before an amphibious assault. When we were inside the bay, our LST took up position off Wolmi-do. Then the fireworks began, all the ships off shore started shelling the mainland and Wolmi-do. Along with the naval bombardment was the air support, mainly FRU Corsairs. It was a tremendous show. The pilots of these aircraft flew below the hill on Wolmi-do to shoot rockets, drop napalm, and strafe the beach on the causeway side of the island. They were quite an unbelievable bunch of fliers. The rocket ships that were lined up opposite red beach on the north side of Inchon and blue beach to the south opened up. It seemed like the rockets would never stop shooting. But after the good things came the bad. It was time to go ashore. The 3rd battalion of 5th Marines landed on Wolmi-do first, followed by Able, Baker, Charley, and Headquarters batteries of 1st battalion, 11th Marines, which included me and several other people from security section. I had never been in an amphibious truck (DUKW), so this was new to me and, by the way, something I will never forget. These vehicles back down the LST's ramp to get waterborne. Now these trucks have a gun wall all around the personnel area that is about four or so inches tall. I was in the back of this area, and when we started down the ramp, the water kept rising up the side of the gun wall until I think to this day that some water came into the truck. And you know, there isn't any place to get away. We floated clear and turned toward the beach. On Wolmi-do, a light rain had started to fall and the sky was getting darker because of all of the smoke from the bombardment and the rain. A light mist had already been falling when we were standing by to load up to go ashore, so the sergeant in charge suggested we leave our packs on board in one of the 6x6's that would be coming ashore the next day and to take our ponchos with us tucked under our cartridge belts. Something that always crosses my mind is that we didn't have type of life preservers. (We used to in training.) One of the things I remembered from training was to kneel down in the landing craft, but there were too many people in this craft to let that happen, so we stood all the way in to the beach. Before any landing craft go to their designated landing site, the lead craft checks with the beach master for any special instructions. When our craft approached the beach master's ship, the driver got his instructions and proceeded to green beach, which was our destination. The driver was also warned to keep a sharp eye out for obstructions because the tide was already running out quite rapidly. There is a 30-foot tide in Inchon Bay once a month, and that once was almost over. The other tides are in the order of 18 feet. The word we got when we left the LST was that the island was secured. Well, I guess as far as 3/5 was concerned, it was. We got to within about 75 yards of the beach when the truck ran onto something in the water. We were stuck hard and fast and with the tide running out as fast as it was, we were rapidly becoming high and dry. At this time I thought, "Why in the hell is this happening to me?" The Marine standing next to me asked what I thought the noise in the water was. If you have ever taken a hand full of small gravel and thrown them into the water, then this was the sound you could hear. I told this Marine that the gooks were shooting at us and you know, there was not any place to dig a hole out there. Sergeant Dixon was in charge of this group and he said that he would go over the side and see how deep the water was. I thought, "Supposing the water is over his shoulders?" Seeing that he was easily over 6-feet tall, that meant that at 5' 8," I was going to have a bit of a problem. But about that time, an M boat that was coming out from the beach stopped to assist us in getting off of whatever was holding us from moving. A crew member threw a heaving line to us so that we could pull a heavier line over to the DUKW. It was a good thing I had my helmet on, because the monkey fist on the end of the heaving line hit me in the head and things were a little bit blurry for a spell. The heavier line was secured to a deck cleat and the M boat attempted to pull us free. After several tries, they dropped the heaving and towing line overboard and left us there to tough it out. It wasn't long after that that an Amtrac came out from the beach area, picked us up, and took us in to green beach, which was the landing site for Wolmi-do. As for what wave we were in, it is quite debatable. Our DUKW probably constituted a wave of its own. As I mentioned previously, that tide was starting to run out when we got stuck. Friends that were in the 1st and 5th regiments said they had trouble at the seawall because of the tide running out so fast. Our howitzers were firing missions by the time we got to the beach, so it was pretty noisy. Our machinegun section did not have any casualties except for getting the hell scared out of us and me getting hit in the head. The first night ashore the ships in the harbor fired illuminating shells all night. That is, except the ships that were not supporting the troops ashore. Our machinegun was set up in an abandoned house that had its front blown away. The house had tile on the walls and floor and every time a round went off, the tile fell off the walls. Underneath the house was a sort of basement where the gooks had been cooking chow--rice in big caldrons. Along with galley setup was a ammunition storage area. During the landing, someone had thrown an illuminating or white phosphorus grenade under the house. All night there were muffled explosions and the tile kept falling off the walls. It made for a sleepless night when we were not standing our watch on the machinegun. Before I went to Korea, I was a moderate cigarette smoker. I remember the amount of cigarettes I smoked that night. My father had taught us boys about cupping a cigarette so that no one could see the lit end glaring in the dark. I also had a Dunhill lighter that didn't make a flame. The other Marine standing watch with me asked if I was smoking and I said, "You're damned right I am." So he wanted to know how to smoke without showing any glare. There was something about the star shells that made it look like everything out there was walking around. It was because the parachute on the flare was rotating as it descended. So there were quite a few shots fired at imaginary figures that night. When we left our packs onboard the LST, we had also left our c-rations in them. This was Sergeant Dixon's idea. "Travel light," he said. So we didn't have anything to eat and were quite hungry before the rest of our people got ashore with our packs. The next day the rest of 1/11 came ashore over the mud flats because the tide had gone all the way out to the channel, which was quite a distance from the beach. It made you think that it was a way trip in. The object that had held our DUKW off shore was a sunken barge that had maybe been sunk there purposely by the island defenders. As soon as all of 1/11 was ashore, we followed 3/5 across the causeway in DUKWs to the mainland. We then moved inland to a point just past the city of Inchon where the battalion set up to continue our support of the 5th Marines in the assault. 1/11 was set up alongside of the MSR either side of a rice paddy that was flooded with water. My crew was dug in on the west side of the paddy and not in any tactical position. We were shelled by gook mortars which were pretty well covering the area. While the mortar fire was going on, a jeep came down the road and stopped. Two people jumped out of the jeep and into a ditch. As soon as the shelling let up, the two people--one of which was a woman--got back into their jeep and took off, only this time we could see them more distinctly. The woman was the reporter Maggie Higgins. The shelling continued until dark and then ceased. Everyone kind of figured that the gooks had a forward observer close by to call targets to the mortars and when it got dark he couldn't see where to call his shots. We had several people hit by shrapnel, but nothing drastic. There was maybe a company of South Korean Marines (KMCs) to our left flank. They apparently had flushed out some North Korean soldiers during their movement in the area. These people tried to move through our perimeter, where they were challenged and stopped. They were dressed in civilian clothing carrying rice bags over their backs. They were searched for weapons and it was found that they had hand grenades hidden in the rice. They were transported to the rear for interrogation and prison camp. We had spent our second day ashore standing watch and having illumination fired above us during the hours of darkness. The next morning our headquarters battery commanding officer made up a combat patrol of security section people to check the area for gooks that might still be in the vicinity and may have been calling in the mortar fire the day before. At this time we had our 6x6s back. We headed out across the MSR or to our right facing in the direction of Kimpo. During our stay on Wolmi-do, we didn't take any prisoners. That came later. We didn't advance very far before we were held up because of a tank battle that was starting to heat up. I don't remember how many tanks were involved on both sides, but for our tanks it was a cup of tea. The tanks then cleared gooks off the road ahead of us. As we moved forward, we caught a few gook rounds, but no great damage was done. There was close air support provided by the Royal New Zealand Air Force. They were flying P-51 Mustangs and came in as low as our F4U pilots. When we reached the top of the hill, the road went straight and the road to Kimpo Airfield intersected. Here there were real signs of death and destruction. There were dead gooks everywhere. Some had been run over by the tanks that had cleared our way. Their heads looked like squashed water melons and at the time I thought that those tank people got some kind of joy out of that. We had gone a half mile or so further when we came under small arms fire from a brushy area. The patrol had a machinegun, but it wasn't used. We all fired a few rounds each into the brush and ceased firing while our police people checked out the brushy area. It turned out that there were some wounded gooks and one that came out with his hands up. A policeman kept him there and the patrol moved on up the path. We came upon quite a number of wounded and dead gooks. The wounded we disarmed and left more policemen to guard them. Not too much farther up the path we came upon a pretty badly torn up village. It was quite visible that an air strike had done the damage. There weren't any civilians in the village--just some more dead and wounded gooks. On the way back to the 1/11 area, our CO said to check bodies for information. I saw what appeared to be an officer and with my kabar knife I slit his pockets open and recovered a folded piece of overlay paper which I put in a pocket and moved on. When we got back to the CP, I opened the paper up. It was an overlay of the gook positions in the surrounding area. I turned it over to our CO, who immediately had it taken to the intelligence people. Later that day I was moved to the far side of the rice paddy with Mike and the two police people. Rostello and Produze went with another crew that was at a culvert under the MSR to the area we had been patrolling earlier. On our way across the paddy, the mortars started dropping in on us again, and there was not any place to find cover. In the water that was in the paddy, there were also black and green snakes. I don't think any were less than three feet long and a good two inches in diameter. If I was moving in an area and saw a snake ahead of me, I was fine. But if I was startled by one of those things, I got a little stressed out. Before we arrived at Inchon, the battalion CO had told us of some things to expect, but he didn't mention those damned snakes. Needless to say, I made it across that paddy in short order and to hell with the mortars. We relieved a crew that went on down the line to join up with another crew. I never could figure out that one. In the course of exchanging information about the post, Corporal Humphries told us that a mortar round had hit in the levy in front of the position and had not gone off. It was a dud. So the gun was set up well away from that location. Some of our security people had managed to get into Yong Dong Po where there was a brewery. By some strange coincidence, these people brought back a keg of beer and let everyone in the section know about it, inviting them to cover over to their position. I took Mike's helmet and mine, minus the liners, to get the beer. Produze was the one that had procured the beer. He had gotten a ride in a jeep that was headed that way and got a ride back. So we had two helmets full of beer for the four of us on the crew. Later after dark, the field phone rang and the voice at the other end yelled, "Gunny Taylor. Gunny Taylor. The gooks are coming through the drain pipe (culvert)." So everyone was alert, but it turned out that Produze had too much beer and was quite drunk. Nothing ever became of it and I think it was probably because the gunny and his crew had probably finished off the rest of the beer. Things were quiet for the rest of the night except when one of our policemen was cupping a cigarette to light it, the whole book of matches ignited. Besides lighting up our position rather brightly, it scared the hell out of the policeman. The next morning, we coached him on how to light up at night. Mike and I were requested to accompany a group of security people to go check out the Han River scene. We all gathered on my side of the rice paddy and ventured down to the river. When we reached the river, everything seemed quiet enough, so I decided to go in the water and clean up. I was in the process of taking off my shoes when I raised my head up to look across the river. There large as life were two North Korean soldiers that looked up about the same time from filling canteens of water. I was faster on the draw than they were and got off a couple of rounds at them. They didn't fire back. They just ran like hell into the brush. We figured it was time to end our trip to the Han River. Later that afternoon, one of the policemen told Mike and I that he had a conversation with some of the local citizens and they told him of some North Korean soldiers that were hiding on a hillside not too far from our outpost. They said that they wished to surrender, so I called the gunny on the field phone and told him the story. He told me to bring Mike by the CP and he would send some more people with us. All of us went on down the road to where these gooks were supposed to be. I was in the lead and as I rounded a corner, I was told by a civilian to look up this draw. Sure enough, there was a gook machinegun and all kinds of goodies. They started shooting in my direction from a well-dug-in position. We dispersed and checked the area out a bit more. We decided that this was a chore for a much larger group of people that were better armed. I bid farewell and we headed back to our CP where I told the gunny what had happened. He passed the word on to a higher command. I never heard what happened. Kimpo to Seoul
The battalion had a number of South Korean police attached to it to help stand security watch at night, act as interpreters, and reconnoiter the houses wherever we stopped to set up. On one particular occasion, they were out checking things out in the area and I thought that this would be a good time to shave. Our machinegun was placed in a position up on the bridge we were next to, looking in an easterly direction toward where an air strike was being concentrated at the time. I took some water out of my canteen (cold water) and commenced to lathering my face. I had commandeered a mirror off of a truck in Pusan and had it propped up on the bridge when the gravel behind me started kicking up and then started hitting next to my mirror. I realized that the enemy could probably see a reflection from the mirror wherever they were. These people were down the tracks, so I gathered my gear and dropped down the hill side of the tracks. I told Gunny Taylor what was going on and about the same time our Korea policemen were running like hell back to our position yelling and waving at us to get down. It seemed that the grunts had missed a large group of North Korean troops and they had decided to take us on. The battalion CO gave the order to saddle up and move out, fighting a somewhat running battle. The road that the battalion was on was a crossroad between the highway to Seoul and the road to Yong Dong Po. The 1st regiment was to take that town and the 5th was to take Kimpo, so 1/11 was in the wrong location. The battalion turned onto the Seoul highway and in the direction of Seoul. We hadn't traveled very far when the battalion pulled off the road into a grove of trees. Now one of the things I remembered from training was do not set up in wooded areas because incoming mail hitting in the tree tops could cause air bursts, which was bad news. However, mine was not to question why. Up to this point, I had not been assigned to any machinegun crew, so for that night I was with a crew that was out in front of a firing battery. A firefight with some North Korean stragglers started off to our right and was coming across our front, so everyone opened fire on them. I am not sure if we hit any of them, but the shooting stopped. Between the firefight and the howitzers in the battery firing all night, it turned out to be another sleepless night. The next morning, Gunny Taylor moved to the other side of the battalion to join up with Sergeant Fenton. Things were pretty quiet, so I finished shaving. With that, we settled in for the night. Sergeant Fenton decided that we would stand two one-hour watches per night so that everyone would stay alert. It turned out that I had the last watch of the night until dawn. We had the machinegun, a Browning automatic rifle, and our own personnel weapons. Mine was a carbine. As the morning got lighter, I noticed a figure moving in front of our position and towards the battery area about 100-plus yards away. He was carrying a rice straw bag over his shoulder. We were instructed to call the security CP if anything like this happened on our watch, so I called on the field phone. When someone answered, I told him what was going on. A voice said, "Shoot the son of a bitch," so I said ok. I decided to use the BAR because it had a bipod which made it steadier to sight in with and I didn't think my carbine was that effective at that range. I touched my first shot and the gook went down. I waited to see if he was going to get up. By then my first shot held reveille on everyone in the area. I saw the gook moving around in the brush, so I aimed again and squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. "Damn," I thought. "What is the immediate action if a BAR fails to fire?" I tapped the magazine, cocked it again, and squeezed off another round. This time it fired and the gook went down again. All of this took place in probably less than three minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. By then the gunny was there with Sergeant Dixon and some other security people. The gunny asked why I shot him. I told him that whoever answered the phone at CP told me to. He didn't ask anything more. Dixon asked me where he had gone down, so I pointed out where and away he went with all of the other people with him. I didn't hear any more from Gunny Taylor. Later that day, Sergeant Fenton packed up his gear and as he was leaving I asked him what was up. He said that he was being transferred to FDC section because that is what he had been in during World War II. When he left, Gunny Taylor came back and asked me and Mike Thennes what our date of rank was. I had made Corporal in July and Mike made rank in June. Gunny told him that he was in charge of the gun crew, but Mike declined the position telling gunny that he wasn't qualified for the job. So gunny appointed me to run the crew. That was my position from then on while I was in the security section. At that time, there was six people in the crew--three other Marines, myself, and two South Korean police who stood watches and were used as interpreters. Around the fourth or fifth day after the Inchon landing, 1/11 moved on down the road to the junction with the road that turned left to Kimpo and under a railroad bridge where the battalion set up to fire support for the 5th Marines who were heading for Kimpo Airfield. My gun crew of Headquarters battery security people were at the westerly end of the airstrip alongside of the MLR, so I never got to see anything of the airfield. We were to maintain a checkpoint for anyone other than Marines traveling on the MSR. In the afternoon getting toward dusk, the field phone rang. Gunny Taylor was on it and told me to send someone to the CP to pick up a rocket launcher and ammo because there were T-34 tanks in the area. I sent two crew members and when they returned I asked who was experienced in the use of the rocket launcher. This was the newer version--the 3.5. Nobody spoke up so we had a crash course in manning and firing the 3.5 rocket launcher. There had been a tank battle just down the road from our position earlier in the day and there were some that escaped, so as it grew darker we started to hear the droning of a tank's engine out to the west of us. All of the crew stayed awake on watch until early morning before the sun came up, at which time the engine noise had stopped. The tank had ran out of fuel or just plain quit. The battalion left Kimpo at about mid morning to a location close to the Han River. Three of the gun crews, including mine, were on a ridge overlooking the river. A road ran down to the river to our left, and there the 5th Marines were going to make their river crossing. There were a lot of amphibious tractors moving down the road toward the river. Our battalion fired across the river to keep the gooks from bothering the crossing, which didn't happen at that time. Later that night the tractors were milling around below our position and churning up the patch of garlic that was down there. What a stink. I am not sure what happened that night--whether the 5th had crossed over or not. There was a Marine on the ridge that was in one of the other gun crews. His name was Holliday. Now Holliday always carried a supply of hand grenades in his field jacket pockets. His nickname was "Hand Grenade." when he got shook up about gooks being out in front of him, he would ring the field phone and tell all of us that he was going to throw a grenade, but the grenade had already been thrown. His calls went something like this: ""This Holliday and I'm going to BOOM throw a grenade." Someone else threw an illuminating grenade and that's when the shooting started. There was a wooden-hulled boat down in the river on the opposite side of the river and I as well as the others swore to Christ that it was moving. We shot the hell out of it with machinegun fire. When the sun came up, the boat was sitting on the bottom where it had been moored. The battalion moved out of there at almost first light and headed south to where the engineers had set up a pontoon bridge so that tanks and our howitzers could cross and head toward Seoul. 1/11 didn't go into the center part of Seoul, so we didn't see the roadblocks that the gooks had set up to hold up the infantry units from taking the city. They took it anyway. The battalion skirted the outskirts of the city heading north, where we set up behind a tall hill looking toward the city. The first time the base piece fired for register, they hit the crest of the hill. My position was overlooking the MSR where it turned toward North Korea. There was a house below us--one of the better homes that I had seen since being in Korea. Our other job was to set up a roadblock by day to screen the steady flow of civilians moving south. With the help of the South Korean police that were assigned to us, we were able to sort out North Korean soldiers dressed as civilians who were trying to infiltrate to the south. None of them tried to escape us. Instead, they gave up quite peacefully. It was a different story at night. We had another village across a rice paddy to the west of our position where, after dark, there was quite a lot of activity. The civilians had a curfew during which no one was allowed out after dark. This was to curtail the shooting of them. The first night in this position, we observed flashlights being used to signal from our side of the paddy to the village. So I passed the word that we were going to fire in their direction and with that there were numerous people with Sergeant Dixon to assist us. The two outposts to my left fired at the same time as we opened up. The tracers set a roof on fire and we could see people running everywhere over there. The gunny sent Sergeant Dixon with a patrol to see what was happening over there. They stayed out of the line of fire until they were some 50 yards from the village, and then threw an illumination grenade which was the signal for us to stop firing and stand by in case we were needed again. The patrol found all types of weapons and ammo in the village. Dixon left the South Korean police to guard the place until morning, at which time the weapons were all confiscated and taken away by trucks. The people in the village were dealt with by the police. The battalion left that position to head toward North Korea. It was getting toward the end of September and the 7th Marines assumed the attack north, putting the 5th Marines in reserve, along with 1st Battalion, 11th Marines. We were still in close proximity with the enemy, but not committed to front line activities. We stayed there until the 5th of October, which was my birthday. On that date we moved back to Inchon to prepare for the move north. Operation Yo YoWhen my battalion was moved back to Inchon, we were quartered in a building that had once been a sawmill. It kept us out of the weather--at least the wind. Because if it had rained, the water would have poured down on us like water being poured into a sieve. During the bombing and strafing runs, this building must have been in the line of fire because the place was riddled full of holes. The other thing that was taking place was that there was a South Korean with a long list of items written down, and he was pointing out all of these items to an Army Major who was taking notes himself. Meanwhile, people were pulling boards off the wall of the building to use for firewood. Each time a board was sacrificed to the fire god, the Korean wrote it down and so did the Major. I have often wondered what our government paid for that. We didn't stay there long because the people started coming down with dysentery. We were actually better off out in the field. When the battalion doctor started getting the runs, he had the 1st battalion put onboard ship and the problem ended. Prior to going onboard ship, we had the run of the town, such as the town was. The VD rate was quite high, so one could take his chances or not. There were quite a few that chose not, including myself. Once we were onboard ship, there wasn't very much to do. There were lots of card games. Something I should mention was that the Army had these small ships set up like a PX. About all they had for sale was razor blades, shaving cream, cigarettes, candy, etc. We had a Marine in headquarters battery named Risley. He was a PFC who was quite a magician. Prior to the battalion moving back to Inchon, he hypnotized a bank employee and robbed the bank of a rather large sum of money in 1000 Won notes. In order to hide this loot, he gave it to the security section people, so we spent some of the money at the PX. Nothing was ever said about the bank being robbed. Later when we were on the outskirts of Wonsan, we used some of this money. The local gooks immediately complained to the battalion CO that his people were using counterfeit money that had been printed as invasion money for the use of North Korean troops in the occupation of South Korea. Most of mine was thrown away, but I did send some of it home to my parents. I still have some to this day. The other event that took place was the departure of our Korean police. Just prior to their leaving, we got some replacement clothing. But before my buddies and I could check it out, it was all gone. The day of their departure, the police lined up in formation in front of the battalion, which was also in formation at attention. This was, I'm sure, to protect the police, because shortly after forming up, they were told to strip down to their birthday suits. These guys were wearing layer upon layer of our clothing. They folded the clothes and laid them in front of themselves. At first everyone was quite pissed about these gooks stealing the clothes that were meant for us. Then it got pretty comical and we started laughing in formation. No one said "At Ease," but the battalion CO told the gooks that he was going to have his troops fall out shortly and at that, all we could see was heels and assholes from those gooks trying to get the hell away from there. Back onboard ship--LST Q030--the big thing was when the tide was out the crew opened the doors in the front of the ship and let the ramp down. We could walk around on the mud flats and catch various species of crabs--mostly fiddler crabs--and the crew helped put the catch in tubs. Then the crew's cooks made a kind of stew out of them, shells and all. The crew on this ship was made up of Japanese. At least catching the crabs was good exercise. I think it was around the 12th of October when we went onboard ship and started laying in stores for a voyage. Food was the big thing and no one seemed to mind that we were going to be fed lots of rice, dehydrated onions, hard tack biscuits, canned peanut butter, canned salmon, and boxes of powdered chocolate pudding. Because of that trip and some other happenings, I don't eat rice to this day. (I wasn't crazy about it then, either.) It was only supposed to have been a three-day trip to wherever we were going. (We were not told of the destination until we were out to sea.) I think we left Inchon around the 15th of October, and it wasn't until the 28th of October that we went ashore at Wonsan. The beginning of the sea voyage was pretty good until we rounded the tip of South Korea and sailed into the Sea of Japan. It got rougher than rough. We could see under the other LSTs when they were on top of the swells. The propellers on the USS Iowa were churning out of the water when she crested a swell. There were seagoing tugs that were used for shuttle and messenger duty, and when they were alongside, they went down into the trough and disappeared. When they came back up, the crew men were still standing at their station with water running off of them. If we had had video cameras back then, we could have had a movie in the making. The major problem with this trip up to Wonsan was the mines that had been laid by the North Koreans from fishing boats. I lost count of how many times our ship went forward and backward up that coast line. In fact, there was one occasion when our ship got out of the traffic line and was steaming across the mined area. An Australian PC came alongside and chewed the people on watch a new ass and got them back on course. Between the rough seas, bad chow, and the minefield, it was a pretty dull trip, although there were some entertaining moments, like stabbing the huge jelly fish with broom handles that we had sharpened on the end. These jelly fish would get trapped up in the bow of the ship between the ramp and the bow doors, so when the ship rose and fell with the wave action, we could get at the jelly fish. We also had Risley entertain us with his magic tricks. And, of course, there were the poker games. There was somewhere around $200 in one game that changed hands by the minute. It wound up in the hands of the chief shivey waggler (signal man). Of course, one could always go up on the weather deck on the bow and watch for mines, and if we wanted to get some good sea legs, this was the best spot on the ship. When our ship sailed into the landing area at Wonson, the airdales were still marking the channel with buoys, so I'm not sure if the place was clear for the landing or not. There were landmines on the beach that vehicles hit quite frequently. Arriving at Wonsan1/11 arrived at Wonsan the 26th of October and went ashore on the 28th, where we were greeted by signs from the 1st Marine Air Wing stating that they and Bob Hope had beaten us to North Korea, Big deal. I only remember that we rode inland for some time before we setup in an area that appeared to be a school grounds and we had security all around the place. We were in division reserve along with the 5th Marines, guarding against guerrilla action behind the 7th regiment who were in the assault. The weather was starting to get cold at night, but not freezing. We had been issued the down-filled sleeping bags before the battalion returned to Inchon, so sleep-wise, we were well-equipped for the cold nights. At night we had trouble with our communication lines. The problem was that the local civilians or someone were shorting out the comm wire by putting pins or nails through the wire. It was a different place every night, so we began to realize that we were truly in enemy territory. We woke up one morning to find a herd of ponies in the area. These critters were a little bigger than Shetland ponies and a little on the wild side, so some of the guys wanted to ride these things. There weren't any bridles, much less saddles, so farm boy Al came to the rescue. I had learned how to make bridles out of rope, except that there were no bits. I rigged it up like the American Indians did by tying the halter part to their lower lip. It worked great, but like I said, these critters were somewhat wild. We had some pretty wild riding exhibitions. It was a hell of a lot of fun, but the ponies disappeared as fast as they had appeared. There was ducks, chickens, and a few hogs in the village. One day while killing time, a bunch of the security people scouted out the livestock, especially this one particular hog that appeared to be about right for roasting. These guys said, "Al, what do you know about slaughtering hogs?" I replied, "Cup of tea." So that night, we returned to the pen where this hog was--or I should say, had been. Those god-damned gooks had hid the animal somewhere and we never did see it again. We taught them a lesson. We ate their ducks instead. Then they hid their chickens. The rice in Korea was of a very large variety, big enough to pop like popcorn. But the North Koreans in this village had an air cannon that they used to make puffed rice, so every now and then we heard this load boom. One day we went looking for the source of the booming and there in the town square were all of these people standing around this cannon making puffed rice. They actually got friendly then and offered us some of their goodies. I guess they thought it was better to join us than to mess with us and maybe lose their air cannon. My outpost was in a north corner of the village close to a house which appeared to be deserted. My crew decided to use the fence around this house as firewood. We burned the wood and the next day the fence was back up. This went on for several times until the gooks gave up. We didn't get any more firewood. The battalion stayed in that village until after Halloween, at which time the Marine that was the magician decided to conjure up a vision of Houdini. What really made it look eerie was that we used to fill buckets with sand and then fill them with diesel oil and light them on fire. This was to have some light in the room, but it really gave some terrific scene effects. When the battalion chaplain got word of this, he went through the overhead, stormed into our living area, and threatened our guy with a courts marshal if he didn't stop. So that ended our evening and there wasn't any courts marshal. The battalion stayed in the Wonsan area a short time longer and then we moved north with the 5th Marines. As I mentioned already, we were guarding against guerrilla action behind the 7th Marines who were in the assault, so as the 7th moved north, so did we. The battalion made a couple of more stops on the way north. One place in particular was up a canyon. When we scouted out the surrounding area, we found where someone had made campfires on the ridge overlooking our position. This was a little unnerving. We only stayed there maybe two days, and I for one was glad to vacate that place. One of the other areas that we stayed offered a little excitement. A flight of our planes were on their way back from a raid into North Korea when one of the planes started smoking and then burst into flames. We weren't sure whether or not this was one of ours, so when the pilot bailed out, the gunny said, "If you guys are going to get him, you had better get going." So away we all went (security section, that is). When he finally got down, he was hanging in a small tree. When he saw us, I am sure he shit his pants or he was saying a few Hail Marys, because this guy was scared. He was a Navy flier off of a carrier. When he was finally cut down out of the tree, he was totally stripped of all his equipment. He did have the clothes that he was wearing, however. We cut up the parachute for scarves. Someone got his pistol. You know, I will bet that to this day he still tells his kids and grandkids about that adventure. By the 10th of November, the Marine Corps birthday, we were just below Sudong-Ni and the security section was going out on patrols in the area looking for the enemy or whatever. When we encountered anyone, they seemed to be wary of having anything to do with us, which seemed pretty strange to us at the time. The next move took us to the pumping station below the reservoir at Chin Hung-Ni. During our stay in this area, we were instructed by an Army major on how to build fires that would keep us warm, but he didn't say where to get the wood for these fires. He told us how long to expect the sub-zero weather to last, and how to dress for it. At this time we had not received our winter clothing, but in the days to follow we were issued the "good stuff." You know, it never seems to amaze me that there were only two sizes for this gear--big and bigger--and why in hell that me being 5'7" always got the bigger, I'll never know. Christ, I could swim in the shoe pack boots that I got. The only time that size didn't make a difference was when weapons were handed out. The battalion moved north up the Sudong gorge. We noticed railroad tracks on the west side of the Changjin River, but we had not seen any trains until at one of our stopping places one evening we could hear the chugging of an engine and a whistle blowing. I think the whole battalion was lined up to see this relic of a steam train engine, manned by some Marines, puffing its way up the tracks. The smoke stack had about a million holes in it like maybe some of our fly boys had caught it in the open and strafed it. It spewed more sparks out of the bullet holes in the stack than out of the top. The train disappeared up the track and out of sight. We never saw it again until we were on our way back to Hamhung. There were some trains of the same vintage at the train station at the top of the hill in Koto-ri. Heading NorthThe battalion left the Sudong gorge and started up the road to the plateau and Koto-Ri. The road was quite steep and treacherous all the way to the top. The troops rode in the trucks, but on the dangerous turns we got off and walked ahead of the trucks. As well as being steep, the road was quite slick because everything was starting to freeze. For the whole trip up the hill, the trucks were in four-wheel drive and granny low. For every three or four steps up, I slid back at least one. When we got to the top of the hill, all hands again boarded the trucks. We didn't stop at Koto-ri, but kept on until we were in sight of Hagaru-ri. The convoy came to a halt and Gunny Taylor had me and my crew unload. We were each given a box of C-rations and were told to leave our machinegun on the truck. We were to take a BAR with extra ammo, plus our own weapons, and climb to the top of the hill that we were standing next to. Gazing at what we thought was the top, I was to set up a listening post with my crew. So up we started and something like an hour later, we reached the top. This hill was later to be called East Hill, the site of some big-time fighting between the Chinese and the Marines under the command of Captain Carl Sitter who was awarded the Medal of Honor for the defense of the East Hill. The hill was a key position in the defense of Hagaru-ri. It was late afternoon when we arrived at the base of the hill, so by the time we reached the top it was sundown. We got set up and had some chow. About that time the communication people arrived with our wire and field phone. Everything was real kicked back. After all, this was the "home for Christmas" drive. We hadn't seen any Chinese--and very few civilians. It snowed that night on East Hill. When morning came, we were covered with a blanket of snow. After digging ourselves out, we got a fire going and had some chow. It was a real pretty sight from up there. We could see all over the valley below. It was covered with snow and it reminded me of a large eiderdown quilt. To pass the time, we set up some empty ration cans and had some target practice using the BAR and firing it in the offhand position. Now that thing weighed 27 1/2 pounds loaded, so it was not an easy task to shoot that rifle in the manner that we were. It was a very relaxing past time. I have wondered if there were any Chinese troops in the hills around us and what they said about those crazy people over on that other hill. It was around noon when we got a call from the gunny telling me to close station and come down off the hill. The communications people had come up the hill on the northeast side through the trees and had said it was an easy climb, so we felt it would be a lot easier going down. The hard part was dodging the trees when we fell on our ass and were sliding at a pretty good rate of speed. When we got to the bottom of the hill, we could smell the turkey cooking. It was our day for Thanksgiving dinner. After chow and before it got dark, some others and I were loaded on a truck and shipped up to 1/11's Able battery to beef up their perimeter defense. During the first night up there, a Chinese probing patrol hit the 3-5 listening post about 100 yards up the road from us. There was an officer and some enlisted in the Chinese group. The officer and three of his people were killed. One of them tried to drag a Marine away from his position in his sleeping bag. He was a BARman and he shot the gook through the bottom of his sleeping bag with his rifle. The next day we gave the area a good checking out and found that the hill in front of our position had been tunneled all around the front with firing holes spaced at intervals that covered our entire position. We reported our find and got ready for chow. It was Able battery's turn for turkey day. Later on before dark, an Army artillery outfit relieved us. Able battery and all associated people were trucked over to Yudam-ni with 3-5 and set up for the night of 26 November. The security troops were set up in a skirmish line on the north side of the road in what appeared to have been a cornfield. The ground was too hard to dig in, but the furrows were deep enough to give some shelter. The temperature dropped to zero during the night and it snowed a little harder than it had on East Hill. I woke up to the sound of vehicles moving somewhere close by. It was the rest of 1/11 moving in, so I crawled out of my snow cocoon and was ready for my next assignment. The gunny located me and had me set up some 50 yards to the left and to the rear of where I had spent the night. He beefed up my gun crew to eight people, which made watch standing a lot easier. The rest of the day was spent getting our position ready. We were in a small gully, so we just stretched a tent that we had acquired over the top of the gully. Being low set like that, it held our body heat and kept it warmer than outside. We had chow and settled in for the night of the 27 November. Around 9 o'clock on the 27th, I was awaken to come outside and see what was going on. My watch mate Charlie Knudsen came out also and we both surveyed the situation. The sky was full of tracers going in all directions--star shells, mortars, and white phosphorous rounds in our battery area. The two people on watch said it had just started and that they were not sure what to do. I tried to reach the gunny on the field phone, but the line was dead. When we had set up our position earlier in the day, I made notice of a big wall tent that had been set up to our rear. I had asked the gunny at the time who that was and he told me that was the 1st battalion, 7th Marines CP and not to have it in our machinegun's field of fire. About 2 a.m. on the 28th, we started getting tracer fire in our position. One round came in low just above ground level and entered the shelter. Every fourth round was a tracer, and I am sure the Chinese loaded their machinegun ammo the same way. That could mean that three rounds were above the tracer and three below. We heard a dull sounding noise come from the tent. Charlie ducked into the shelter and asked who had been hit. A voice painfully answered, "Me." It was Don Villiers. He had been hit in the elbow. I tried the phone again and it was working, so I asked for a corpsman. In a short time, two of them arrived with their gear and a stretcher. They gave Don a shot of morphine and packed him off to the CP. On his way out he said, "See you later Guinea Wop." That's what one of my buddies had nicknamed me. He thought that I was Italian. Thirty-five years later, that was how Don greeted me at a reunion of the Chosin Few. For rest of the night, I had all of our crew on watch until daylight. Because of the friendlies to our rear, we had the gun laid in on the base of the ridge that was on our northwest side. Most of the tracers and mortar fire were coming from the ridge above our battalion CP, so we were restricted in our field of fire in that direction. The firing batteries were to the east of us across the road, so we were not too concerned about that direction because they had their own security. As night wore on, it started to get colder and a light snow started falling. We hoped that it would warm up a bit by daylight. As it got light we could see some forms moving around at the base of the ridge and immediately opened fire. At the same time, the people on top of the ridge also fired down on these people. They were Chinese soldiers. I guess that they got down there during the night and didn't know where they were, but they didn't have to worry about that anymore. The people on the ridge were from the 7th Marines. As the day wore on, we got more mortar fire that was quite close to our position. This meant that the gooks were ranging in on us, so we kept watching the hills around us for tell-tale signs. Sure enough, from the same direction that the tracers had come from the night before we discovered that there was a cave or dugout. By using our binoculars we could make out movement from there every time we had an incoming mortar round. I contacted the gunny and told him what was going on. He said that it must be the same ones that were shooting at them. Through the communications switchboard, they got in touch with one of our forward observers (FO) on that hill and via my field phone I directed them to the gook position. Shortly thereafter, one of our howitzers fired a round and "poof" there was no more dugout and we were no longer at the end to the incoming mail and small arms fire. The crew took turns going to the CP. The people back there had set up the galley's mess gear, washing cans with a heater in the bottom. They put a lot of C-rations in the can to heat them up. It worked fine except the water froze at the top of the can. Someone had put an ax beside the can so that a hole could be made in the top to get the rations out. There was also coffee set up the same way, but it had a vent hole big enough to pass a canteen cup through. That part was all okay, but by the time we got the coffee out and up to our mouth, there was a thin layer of ice on top of the coffee. Turkey Hill & SouthMost of the day of the 28th was spent shoring up our position. It was quite useless to try and do any digging because the ground was so frozen. So the rest of the time before it got dark was spent checking all around our position. The Chinese started stirring after dark. We could hear them moving out of their positions and mustering for their next onslaught. They were quite a distance away from us, but we could hear them as clear as a bell. The second night wasn't as devastating as the first night, mainly because we knew where all of our people were located. Our main concern was to the south of us because it was open ground between two hills. It was where the 7th's CP had been set up during the first attacks. It wasn't long after night fall that we started hearing whistles being blown, after which the small arms firing started to pick up. Then the whistles blew again and the shooting stopped. We could hear a pin drop. I thought, "Christ. Is this going to be fixed bayonet time?" But we were not bothered the rest of the night. The next morning, we got the word to get our gear together and stand by to move out. The battalion didn't move very far--maybe a mile down the road in the direction of Hagaru-ri. My crew set up on the side of a hill known as Turkey Hill. The hill got its name from all of the turkey carcasses that were left there when the 7th Marines had their Thanksgiving dinner. The cooks had stripped the meat off of the turkeys and threw the remains on the hill side. The batteries were set up down on the road. The move was made to give the howitzers better use of trajectory because before the move, some of the howitzers were pointed almost straight up in the air. That day was also the day we were told that we were retreating back to Hagaru-ri. This was a bit shocking because the word "retreat" isn't in the Marine Corps dictionary or job description. It was then that we started realizing that we were in a pretty bad situation. We were told to get rid of any unnecessary items in our packs. I pretty much had all the clothes that I owned on my body--seven layers on the upper half, long john bottoms, plus three pairs of wind breaker trousers--and I was still freezing my ass off, so I didn't have too much to get rid of. My pack consisted of my sleeping bag, entrenching tool, and blanket roll. There was a designated area to put the discarded items, and when we left that position the pile that was there was torched. That night was pretty quiet in our area except for the occasional small arms fire to keep us awake. I think that those damned Chinamen slept all day so that they could harass us all night. There were to be a lot of sleepless nights from there to Hamhung harbor. The next day was a day to remember. It was the day the Air Force made their first airdrop. The planes came in not far off of the ground in single file and started dropping their cargo. It took us by surprise. We had no idea that this was going to take place. The chutes were dropping all over our area, crashing trucks and shelters that had been set up. We didn't know where in the hell to go for cover. It was raining parachutes and, of course, they were greatly over-loaded. Several of our people were hit and seriously hurt. I finally got under a truck and out of harm's way, but all in all it was an exciting event. Can you believe that the Air Force wanted us to gather up their chutes and send them back to them. We just roared with laughter as we tore the chutes up to make scarves out of them. What was not torn up was left where they landed. Many years later, I attended a reunion where some of these pilots also attended and we were able to discuss this at length. The one guy said he was flying so low that he could see the shocked look on our faces and also the number of Chinese troops in the hills around us. He said they came in low like that to keep the chutes from drifting into enemy hands. I had lost track of time or what day it was. It seemed like there wasn't any separation between night and day. It was heavy overcast, cold and snowing. I think it was the last night we spent in this position that it got so cold. Our motor transport officer, Lieutenant Scaggs, was the H&S security officer. He checked on us during the night to make sure everything was all right with his troops. Lieutenant Scaggs was like an old mother hen and we were his chicks. He worried about us the whole night--things like, "Get down. You're going to get shot." "Don't get in front of the fire. You make a good target." But by the end of the night, he was at the fire with the rest of us trying to keep warm. That night the temperature really dropped. The only way to get the fire was to dump a can of bacon on some empty shell boxes and light it all on fire. We had to go down the road to where the howitzers were to get the wood. It wasn't much of a fire. It didn't give off much heat, but it got our morale up and was something for the chinks to have for target practice. Their bullets kicked up sparks most of the night. There were Marines that came by and stood in the flames to try to get their feet warm and their shoe packs caught on fire. These people didn't feel their shoes being burned off of their feet. I am sure that this was the night that we all suffered the frostbite of our hands and feet. When dawn broke, Captain Valente, one of our battery officers, came down the road checking on the troops' welfare. He told us that it had gotten down to 40 below zero that night. The next order of business was to make a check of our people. All of my crew was accounted for, but there were missing faces from the other crews that were present the day before. That was one of the things that really bugged the hell out of me and has stuck in my mind over the years. That is, one day we knew someone by sight, not his name. But if someone asked us if we had seen the guy with the red hair and we answered with a negative reply, it meant that he had either been wounded or had bought the big one. That was how most mornings were spent--taking visual roll call. Road to Hagaru-riI think it was like the 1st of December when battalion broke camp and headed for Hagaru-ri. I think we moved a matter of yards that first day on the road. It was pretty slow going. The chinks were in the hills on both sides of the road going out of there. The infantry kept the ridges as clear as possible and the support people--artillery, engineers and whoever else could be mustered up--kept the road open. The days were really a drag. It seemed like we weren't accomplishing a damned thing. The Marine and Navy air really put on some fantastic shows while they were doing their thing to the Chinese with napalm, bombs, rockets and strafing runs, but when night came it was the chinks' turn, and they didn't give us much breathing space. They were after the howitzers. They didn't get within rifle distance of us during the day, mainly because of our air support. Our artillery wasn't able to fire on the gooks because of the narrow road, but on a few occasions, a gun crew unlimbered a howitzer and fired it by bore sighting. This was quite effective. It was also point blank range. On one occasion, the gooks were running down the hill into a dugout and a mortar crew lobbed rounds at them, not really doing any harm. The Marines aimed their howitzer at the target and missed twice, but the third time the round went in the dugout right behind the last chink to go in and "poof"! As a word of note, a person could stand behind one of those guns and watch the round go out and see where it hit. As the battalion moved up the road, the fire started to get real intense. When we started getting closer to Toktong Pass, the activity picked up considerably to a point that it was damned well extremely life threatening. In other words, a person could get killed or seriously wounded. One of my gun crew members and I were beside one of the trucks when fire started becoming real heavy from a large caliber weapon. An incoming round hit the left front wheel of the truck and made one hell of a loud noise. The truck started to roll back down the road. The driver shouted down to us that he had lost his brakes and that he couldn't hold the truck in place. I told him to move ahead and we would find something to put behind his wheel. While he was doing this, the other person with me found a rather large rock and we put it behind his wheel so that when he stopped it would hold him in place. His big concern was what was going to happen when we were no longer there to offer assistance. I don't remember how far it might have been to the top of the hill except it seemed like it took forever to get there and all this time the battalion was taking some heavy casualties. The Chinese were doing their utmost to stop us from moving forward at this point. Our air cover was really doing one hell of a job on the gooks, but when they dropped napalm on them, I swear those damned chinks gathered round the fire and warmed themselves. Just before reaching the top of the pass, the gooks started a more intense buildup of their firing. There was a gully that was at a right angle to the road and had been filled in to make a road over it. At the bottom was a culvert to let water drain on down the hill. The walking troops took the path that went down beside the roadway where we were hidden from the gooks' small arms fire. When I got to the culvert, I paused for a moment to see how to get over it because if we ran past the front of it we stood a chance of getting shot in the legs by some gook that had set whatever he was shooting to fire through the culvert. They had gotten few unsuspecting people there. We could see the marks in the snow bank where the bullets had been hitting. I managed to get a foothold on top of the culvert and get to the other side. Most of the others took a giant step across but they were taller than me and had longer legs. The over-sized shoe packs and extra long parka didn't make it any easier either. The real bummer was when we came up to the road after going through the gully because the fire by the gooks at this point was very intense, so much so that when we looked over the road, we got a face full of chipped ice from the bullets hitting the frozen road bed. There were a number of people wounded at that location, and some were killed. One dead Marine was right where I had made my exit from the gully to the road and may have been a shield for me. I took a deep breath and moved out. As I was on the road, I was next to the truck that had got his brakes shot out at the bottom of the hill leading up to the pass. I fell in beside him and continued on. The driver's face was white as a sheet. He had just negotiated the hailstorm of bullets getting to this point. As we moved up the road, I noticed bullets hitting in the bank to the left side and they were traversing at about hood level across the bank. I knew that if the driver didn't get his head down below the dash, he wasn't going to have one. I yelled to him to duck down and move it out fast. I could hear the bullets hitting the bed of the truck as he got clear and pulled in behind a cut in the road bank. It gave me a chance to get my breath and give myself a body check. In the meantime, the battalion CO, Lieutenant Colonel Feehan, had moved up on the right side of the road next to the truck and was looking down at the Chinese in the valley below. He sighted the gooks setting up a mortar. He had three people from security section set up a machinegun to fire at them. They got off one burst and were immediately hit by the gook gun that had been traversing the road bank. All three Marines were hit, two of them severely. One got pieces of cartridge casings in his face. By this time we had started moving up the road toward Hagaru-ri and were held up after we cleared the top of the pass. The 3rd and 4th battalion, 11th Marines were ahead of 1/11 and one of 4/11's prime movers had broken down. They were a version of a TD-18 tractor, so they are not easy things to move. By the time darkness fell, 1/11 was where the prime mover was and so that is where we sat for the night while 4/11 cleared the road. Sometime in the early morning the road was cleared, but our battalion CO decided to wait until daylight to continue on to Hagaru-ri. Big mistake. A couple of times during the night we were fired on from the hill to our left and at one time a machinegun opened up on us and their tracers lit the whole hillside up, including all of the Chinese soldiers in the vicinity of the gun. Several other people and I fired at them, so they didn't fire anymore at that time. As dawn broke, we could see movement on the ridge to our left where a lot of the nighttime firing had been coming from. We could see the gooks setting up a mortar. I knew they were out of range for my carbine, so a guy with a BAR started shooting at them. Gunny Taylor told him to stop shooting because those were Marines up there on that ridge. The guy shooting said, "Gunny, they have quilted uniforms on." Gunny started shooting back with an M1 that he had, but by then the battalion CO gave the word to move out. Another big mistake. By this time, the small arms and mortar fire was getting real heavy and the battalion was taking some heavy casualties. I watched a Marine that had stood watch with us from communications section jump through a bursting mortar round and was still on his feet and moving out. It had ripped the outer shell of his parka off of his back, but he kept going. There was a Marine with us from the 7th regiment that had been tagged for severe frostbite and was a ambulatory case, which meant he was walking wounded. When it was our turn to move out, he was behind me. He was like six-foot tall or maybe more. Gunny had already been hit in the hip and couldn't walk. Ray Humphries helped him. A mortar round hit behind us and the guy from the 7th let out a phrase of profanity and fell down. Another Marine and I helped him up and put him in the back of the truck that we were beside. From then on, it was a god damned nightmare. There were people falling everywhere killed and wounded. To this day I don't know how in Christ's name I made it through that ordeal. I found out that day what the smell of death was about. Believe me, it is something a person will never forget once they have experienced it. I moved along the road trying to keep out of the line of fire. When I came around the back of a truck I had to stop because there was nowhere to go. The whole convoy was stalled. As I pondered the situation beside a water trailer, a bullet punched a hole in the trailer about six inches from my head. I thought, "This sure as hell is not the place to be." So I went over to the other side of the road. In the ditch below me was a Marine asking me to throw him his rifle that was laying in the road in front of me. I reached down to scoop the rifle up and the next thing I knew, I was in the ditch with him and several others. It was about a ten-foot or so drop. When I came to rest, there were three people beside me that gave out a noise like they were exhaling their breath and they never moved from that place. All three had bought the big one. From there on I went up the line to where the prime mover was and ducked underneath it. I was shortly joined by another Marine. We both laid there and caught our breaths. He said that he was ready to go and left. I told him that I would be behind him. It was unbelievable that he made it. There were bullets hitting all around him kicking up ice shards off of the road. He was sliding all over place. I said, "Albert, it's time to go" and out I went. It was all okay until I hit the road and the world came out from underneath me. I fell on my ass in the middle of the road. Once again, I don't know how I made it out of that one. I had enough sense to roll off the road down the road bank and when I stopped rolling, I looked back at the hill and it looked like a lighted Christmas tree. One of the howitzer crews had gotten their gun turned around and was firing canister rounds point blank at the hill, so I moved up to join the forward part of the convoy and resumed the move into Hagaru-ri. While this was happening, some tanks came up to join the fight and our air cover came on station. Hagaru-riThere were people lining the road when the battalion entered Hagaru-ri and we were acknowledged by nods. Most of the people were Royal Marines from the British 41 Commando. The trucks and jeeps headed for the hospital where the wounded were unloaded, followed by the dead. It wasn't the best sight that I have ever seen. Most of the bodies were still warm. There was steam rising off of them and a smell I will never forget. Corpsman came out with stretchers and carried the non-walking wounded inside. A buddy of mine and I helped the guy from the 7th Marines out of the bed of the truck, as well as a Korean man that had traveled north with the battalion. He was a South Korean who had been the cook's helper down south. He was a noncombatant and when he was out of the truck we could tell he was quite shook up. His eyes were as big as saucers and he was shaking violently. I really felt bad for him, but that was out of my hands. From there I went to the 1/11 staging area where some of the units were setting up tents, the supply people in particular. Some of the people, including me, fanned out to look for chow. We had not eaten for some time. We ran across Ray Humphries, who told us that we had to go and see the supply tent. So off we went. This tent was a big wall type and was real tall. As we walked into the tent, Sergeants Strickland and Franklin were standing either side of the door way, telling people to wipe their feet. They had placed a rug for that purpose and there were ponchos spread out on the rest of the floor, but that was not what Ray wanted us to see. I noticed how light it was inside of the tent and then I looked up. There were so many bullet holes in the roof and sides of the tent that it was pretty evident the weather was not going to be kept out. It had started snowing lightly and the snow was coming through the many holes. We left there and resumed our search for food. Being typical Marines, we also searched for alcoholic beverages, mainly sick bay alcohol. While we were roaming around the metropolis of Hagaru-ri, we were approached by a person in a Jeep. When he came along side of us, we discovered that the person was Chaplain Craven, who asked if we were hungry. Of coarse, we said yes. He handed all of us Tootsie Rolls, wild root cream oil, and a soldier's missal. We all thanked him very much and headed back to our area. When we arrived back at our area, our first sergeant informed Thomas Smith and me that we were to report to the 7th Marines area to join them in the move to Koto-ri the next morning. When we got there, this person was telling how the 7th was going up to Koto-ri in the morning. A voice some where in the group asked where he could get ammunition for his rifle and he was told that he wouldn't need a weapon or ammunition tomorrow because he would be a stretcher bearer. Just then a voice in the dark said, "I am Lt. Colonel Harris, CO of 3rd battalion, 7th Marines, and we need some volunteers to fill out our rifle companies. Do I have any volunteers?" I grabbed Smith by the arm and said, "Do you want to be a stretcher bearer in the morning?" He shook his head no so I said, "Come with me." We were assigned to Item company, 3rd battalion, 7th Marines, first squad, 2nd platoon, and our platoon leader was Lieutenant Sullivan. That was the first night since leaving Yudam-ni that I slept in a tent. It was the tent of the CO and his platoon leaders. We had no sooner settled in when a low-flying aircraft could be heard circling Hagaru-ri. On its last run, it came in low and bombed us. All there was were heels and assholes making tracks out of that damned tent. There was a bulldozer parked behind us and that is where I dove, only to meet several other people there. When this plane finished its bomb run, we all vacated the safety of the dozer and returned to the tent. We were not bothered any more that night, and at 0500 we rolled out to form up for the move to Koto-ri. Before leaving this area, all of the tents were struck, rolled up, and stacked in piles for whoever was going to deal with them. Move to Koto-ri3rd battalion 7th's staging area was on the road that lead out of Hagaru-ri to Koto-ri, just under East Hill. It was where we drew ammo, grenades, and whatever else we might need. My buddy was given a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR). He had never fired one, nor did he know how to take it apart if the occasion arose, so I took him over to an area where some other people were test-firing their weapons and gave him a crash course in the care and firing of the BAR. The next order of business was to form up by squads and wait for the word to move out. While we were waiting, someone produced some C-rations and built a fire. Now the fire wasn't necessarily built for warming the C-rations, although that is what my buddy and I used it for because we were still pretty damned hungry. But there were other people that threw live rounds in the fire in hopes of getting the million dollar wound that would get them out of the reservoir. In this case, someone had thrown a hand grenade as well as rifle ammo in the fire. An unsuspecting replacement that had just gotten of an airplane and had been sent to our staging area was warming himself by the fire when the grenade went off. You know, I believe to this day that he was flown out on the same plane that he had arrived in. The Marine and Navy air flew replacements in and then flew the wounded out. Item Company moved out, leaving town to move over to the base of East Hill where a railroad tunnel went through the hill. They waited for a fire fight to cease, or for us to join the fight. While we were waiting, a flight of Corsairs flew over head. They napalmed the hill to our front and a combat photographer that was behind us took our picture watching the napalm run. This picture is in almost every documentary on the Chosin battle that I have seen. I am the Marine with the bayonet on my rifle. I didn't intend to make any glorious charges into the fray, but with the bayonet fixed to the end of my rifle, it made the butt plate just the right height for me to lean on. If I fell asleep, I would fall on the ground and wake up. After the napalm run, the gooks that were causing the delay came down to where our platoon was. Their hands were up and they surrendered. They were a pretty sorry sight. Some were not wearing any shoes and it was obvious that their feet were frozen. Some of the others that had ice caked around their ankles and hands weren't in much better shape. The platoon moved on down to the road and started the 13-mile march to Koto-ri. After a short distance, we halted and I noticed a parka sleeve laying in the road. In front of it were three Chinese soldiers laying in the road, squashed as flat as gingerbread men. I figured that a tank had run over them. I hooked my bayonet in the sleeve and tossed it off of the road, only to discover that an arm was still inside the sleeve. These are some of the sights that stick in my mind--to think that some poor bastard was blown apart at that site and is listed as MIA to this day. There were also several dead Marines laying in the ditch. They appeared to be replacements because of the newness of their clothing. The platoon moved on up the road and fell in behind a tank. This time we drew small arms fire from the hill that had been napalmed. The tank we were following stopped and the tank commander told us to stand clear because he was going to fire a round at the hill where there was a concentration of chinks. He cut loose with a round and apparently hit what he was aiming at. It turned out that the shooter was Lt. Colonel Milne, who was 1st Tank Battalion CO. A short time after he fired, a figure could been seen coming down from a wooded area on the hill. It was a Royal Marine. He came up to the tank and shouted something to the Colonel that we couldn't hear. It seems that the Royal Marine had been sent down the hill by his officer to tell the Colonel to stop his bloody shooting--that it was their show. He then ran back up the hill. Colonel Milne tells the story at the Chosin Few reunions. Our platoon continued its march up the road. It was overcast, was getting dark, and we were starting to hit pockets of stiffer resistance and were taking more casualties from the hills to our left flank. But we kept moving because we were going to take over the point for 3rd Battalion. The platoon was still in contact with the tanks and as we moved up the road, we got into some heavy duty small arms and mortar fire. The tanks halted. One was to my left and the other one was about in front of me when out of the darkness came the sound of whistles and cymbals and the sound of many gooks charging our positions. At the time, I was daydreaming of home and my mom, dad, and our dogs. The dream was almost real enough that I felt that I could have reached out and touched them. When the shooting got a hell of a lot more serious, the Marine next to me started firing and I really came back to reality. I started touching off some rounds. The chinks were right on top of us, running past us to our rear. I turned and shot at them, but they kept going. Then they hit the tank to my left and the tank in front of me opened up on the other tank to keep the chinks off of it. They had no idea that some of our Item Company people were out in front of it, so we had some wounded from friendly fire. There was one Marine that was also from H&S 1/11 who had been shot in the groin, and he was running down the road yelling that those dirty sons-of-bitches had shot him in the balls. Someone tackled him and I guess a corpsman gave him a shot of morphine to shut him up. Another Marine was hit in the knee and must have done a real job of it, because we could hear him screaming above the noise of the battle. This was a little nerve-racking, to say the least. He must have also been given a shot of morphine, because everything got quiet after that. Even the gooks withdrew. We started up the road again and came upon some huts that were on either side of the road. This made some shelter, but when I looked down the road, I could see a line of Marines laying behind the bank alongside of the road. There was just about enough protection to shield their heads from the machinegun fire that had them pinned down. This gun was traversing up and down the road, and I could see the rounds hitting behind the people that were laying in the road. Those guys were as flat as they could get. I was behind our platoon leader, who told me to do a column right, walk until I couldn't see the bullets hitting any more, and then do a column left and proceed across the field. Well, that worked okay for a short time, but then I drew the fire from the machinegun that was shoulder high to me. It was buzzing so close to my head that it made the hair on the back of my head and neck stand up, kind of like when someone nuzzles an ear. By then I was on the deck and crawling to a safer place when a group of people ran past me muttering in an Asian language. I tried to raise my rifle, but something was holding it down. It was one of these people standing on the bayonet. It was a good thing, because if he hadn't been, I would have shot them. They turned out to be South Korean soldiers. The platoon moved on ahead to a place where we could get back to the road, and then we lined up in position so that we could fire on the machinegun that was causing the holdup. Several others and I couldn't see its muzzle blast, so after a lot of trial and error, we finally located the gun and silenced it. It was about this time that I started experiencing a real bad case of stomach cramps and stomach ache. I later found out that it was due to hunger pangs. At the time, it was very disturbing. After the target practice on the gook machinegun, we started back up the road. At this point, we passed the word back for the convoy to move up because we were the lead platoon on the road and our platoon leader had felt it was clear for the convoy to move. We got a distance up the road and paused to wait for the convoy to catch up. My buddy and I ranged in on a weapons carrier parked in the snow bank. It looked like it was full of snow, so my buddy went over to check it out. All of a sudden, he jumped back away from the vehicle and scrambled to get his rifle into play. Then I saw what the problem was. There were three Chinese soldiers in the cab and they were trying to get out. I brought my rifle up to point at them and one of them walked up to the point of my bayonet which was aimed at his throat. When I felt the pressure of him leaning against the bayonet, I thought to myself that this guy was trying to get himself killed. But at that moment, our platoon leader intervened and turned the chinks over to some Korean soldiers that had just came on the scene, and we resumed the march to Koto-ri. When the platoon started back up the road to Koto-ri, we moved off the road to the left side and flanked the road for a period of time. Everything was real quiet when, like out of nowhere, a mortar round lit in the midst of the platoon. Those rounds did not come screeching in for some time in advance. They just made a sound just before they hit, which didn't give us much time to get down. This round was so close that the heat it gave off was quite warming. Shortly after the explosion, the junk from it started falling all around us and something hit me in the small of the back. Lieutenant Sullivan called to see if anyone was hit. I felt through all my layers of clothes to see if I could feel any wet spots where a very large object had hit me. Feeling nothing, we moved on and back onto the road. After a time the word was passed back to have the convoy move up as we had not been fired on for some time. This happened for a third time and Sullivan yelled, "God damn it, pass that word back." A voice somewhere behind me said, "I am the last man in the squad," and back came Sullivan like a shot and had us do an about face. We went back down the road and in a short time the convoy caught up, but we never did find our missing people. We turned around and started back up the road, and that was when we went through the area known as "Hell Fire Valley" where Task Force Drysdale had been hit. A large number of our troops were killed there, and our vehicles were knocked out. I never saw any Chinese bodies. They must have carried them off. There was one body that has stuck in my mind since that evening. It was the body of a fair complexioned man, sitting in a fetal position without any clothes on. He had what appeared to be a cut on the top of his bald head, but I was quite sure he had frozen to death. He was a large person, and with his fair skin he stood out in the moonlight. The platoon didn’t stay there very long and moved out up the road again. We crossed a railroad trestle that crossed over a ravine. Half of the platoon took the trestle and the others took the road,. During the time that it took for the road group to again join up, the rest of us laid down on the railroad tracks to rest. At that time, a Korean woman, with two children following and one tied to her back, came jogging by. I thought, lucky for us they were not Chinese soldiers. They disappeared down the tracks and the next thing that happened was a series of 12 tracer rounds came down the tracks. We never found the bodies of the women and kids, so evidently they had left the tracks, which we also did when we moved out again. I didn’t see too much of my buddy during the night except for taking the air strike pane | |||||||||||||||||
