Soldiers and Marines Saga, page 10
We had an interesting visitor today. An older, heavy set guy came up to my bunker and started asking me questions about the weapons we got off the gooks. What made him interesting was that he was wearing clean and tailored fatigues without a rank and was accompanied by a captain who kept calling him “sir.”
“I came up here to see you, colonel because I heard you captured some weapons the Russians gave the North Koreans to field test.”
“Oh yeah. The assault rifles we took off the gooks we killed. Yeah, we’ve got a few.” Hundreds of them.
“That’s what I heard; that’s what I heard. So I thought I’d come see for myself and take them off your hands. We want to test them to see what mistakes the Russians made. We’ll put a letter in your file, of course, saying you were helpful.”
“Put a letter in my file? You can’t seriously think my file is more important than my men’s lives. Are you fucking crazy? I’m not about to give them to you. My men need them.”
“You want to keep them? That’s strange. Colonel Pettyjohn told us they weren’t any good and that’s how you got them—killed a lot of North Koreans because their weapons didn’t work.”
“Well you heard wrong, very wrong, from someone who wasn’t there. My men got them by killing North Koreans. But the weapons are good, better than anything we’ve got. They don’t jam under combat conditions.”
“Well then for sure we have to test them. You got a problem with that?”
“Yeah, actually I do. Because it would disarm my men.”
“Oh, for God’s sake colonel, we have to test them.”
“Well, we have tested them—and they work without jamming all the time and having to constantly be cleaned. People die when weapons jam and that’s a fact. These don’t and my men are going to keep them.” That’s for damn sure.
We argued for almost twenty minutes. In the end I gave him three to study and agreed to write a report on their effectiveness in combat. Someday I’m going to see that lying asshole Pettyjohn and if he’s still a lieutenant colonel I’m going to punch him in the nose.
Chapter Fourteen
We stayed on the hill while the division pushed the North Koreans back, and the Marines landed at Inchon to cut off their retreat. Victory was truly in the air. Then everything changed.
It was already a cold and snowy winter on November 25th when the Chinese poured out of the hills and launched attacks throughout northern Korea. An entire Chinese army, hundreds of thousands of men, had actually started walking over the mountains into Korea weeks earlier. They stayed in the mountains, and off the roads, but there were the inevitable unintended contacts and skirmishes, and one all-out battle with the ROKs, and another with a couple of American infantry companies.
We weren’t ready for the Chinese, even though our division and the Marines had sent a steady stream of contact reports to Tokyo. They did so because MacArthur’s Tokyo office is handling all the intelligence, and directing the war, even though they are some distance away. The contact reports were ignored.
Why were the contact reports ignored? Because MacArthur had earlier announced that the Chinese would not enter the war. And, since MacArthur was never wrong, his intelligence staff, to whom all contact reports were sent, knew the reports were inaccurate and not worth considering.
So up until yesterday, the staff in Tokyo hadn’t bothered to inform any of its commanders in Korea about Chinese troops being all over the place up by the border. Each of our commanders only knew about his contact reports, but not about the others. To the contrary, right up until yesterday afternoon, MacArthur’s headquarters had continued to assure the field commanders in Korea that they would not be fighting Chinese or Russian troops.
Everything is different today. As a result of the failure of MacArthur’s intelligence section, the Republic of Korea’s army, the ROKs, are being systematically destroyed. And our army troops, as well as the Marines who landed at Inchon and pushed the North Koreans back towards China, suddenly found themselves surrounded and under attack, just as winter arrived. We are, once again, hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned.
The Marines, who came ashore in the Inchon landing, promptly attacked to break out of the Chinese encirclement. Some of the Marine battalions attacked towards the north in order to reach a port from which they could escape by being taken off by our navy; some towards the south towards us. With customary bravo the Marines refused to admit they were retreating. A Marine enlisted man summed up the Marine’s position quite nicely. He said the Marines were “merely attacking in the opposite direction and God help the poor Chinese bastards who have had the bad luck to surround us.”
Tough guys, the Marines. But the failure of MacArthur’s intelligence office in Tokyo sure caused them to take a lot of unnecessary casualties.
******
Corps headquarters was in a state of confusion and uncertainty on the morning of December 22nd as Talley, Evans, and the rest of the in-country brass gathered to get the latest word on how MacArthur wants his commanders in Korea to respond to the Chinese invasion. It was being delivered by a senior member of MacArthur’s staff who flew in from Tokyo to meet with them, and give them their orders. He would also, according to the message they received, provide them with General MacArthur’s latest insight and guidance.
General Walker, the overall commander in Korea was at his Seoul headquarters, and called in all his senior officers to hear the brief. Walker is something else; he’d already saved the army once by ordering a retreat from Seoul after MacArthur decreed that the Korean capitol must be held at all costs. He just pretended he never received MacArthur’s order, and did what he had to do. And, since MacArthur had again ordered Seoul to be held at all costs, Talley and the staff were once again hoping Walker would do the right thing and once again order a retreat, if and when it became necessary.
Bravado aside, things looked bleak. The ROKs and their allies, mainly Americans, but with growing numbers of Brits, Australians, French, and Turks, were again seriously outnumbered, and falling back; the Marines and army troops up north near the Chinese border were surrounded, and taking heavy losses as they tried to fight their way to safety.
The briefer was a natty major general wearing a class A uniform and well-shined shoes. He was self-important and had come from MacArthur’s Tokyo headquarters to let the commanders in Korea know the Chinese may have decided to invade after all. If they do, he told the assembled officers, the General wants them to hold Seoul at all costs.
“The General thinks that if the Chinese decide to invade they will try to take Seoul and then move south on Pusan.”
“There are four routes south that the Chinese might take,” the briefer summarized. Two on coast and two interior roads. …..uh, right here,” he said, pointing to a map on the wall.
What a useless Remf Talley thought as he listened. Remf, of course, being army shorthand for “rear echelon mother fucker.”
“The General thinks that if they invade they will come down the interior road to Seoul but they may instead try to come down the interior highway and head straight for Pusan, or both.”
Really? One or the other or both. What a surprise.
“Ben, it looks like Roberts was right,” Evans whispered to Talley. “As soon as this asshole stops wasting our time, get down to the crossroads and see how long he can hold 817 and how much help we’ll need to send him.”
Then Evans couldn’t contain himself any longer.
“Ah General, who is the general you keep talking about who still thinks we “may” have to fight the Chinese "if" they decide to invade?”
******
I was half way down the hill and heading to our new camp on the other side of the bridge to check things out when the distinctive whoop whoop whoop of a helicopter catches everyone’s attention, including mine. We all stopped and looked. It caused a lot of excitement because most of the men, including me, had never seen one before. It seemed to be coming in for a landing in the open field next to the crossroads.
The helicopter landed in a cloud of dust and snow as I drove a Jeep down the hill towards it. As I parked and turned off the Jeep’s engine, I saw General Talley and a couple of colonels get out and, ducking low under the turning propeller blades, come towards me and the Jeep through the storm of dust and snow its propellers were kicking up.
Jeez, maybe it broke when it landed; its propellers seem to be sagging.
Talley started talking as he walked up. He got right to the point.
“You’ve heard about the Chinese, I take it?”
“Yes Sir. I’ve been listening to the radio chatter.”
“Well Guns, they’re coming goddamn it. You were right.” He said it with disgust in his voice.
General Talley got real serious as we walked to the Jeep and look down at the road with the colonels trailing along silently behind us. It was packed with an endless line of military trucks and vehicles coming from the north and heading south towards Pusan. Many were stuffed with Korean refugees.
“What the Chinese seem to have done is infiltrate one helluva lot of infantry over the border without anyone putting it together and figuring out their intentions.”
He shook his head in disgust as if he couldn’t believe it.
“Well they’re coming, goddamn it; they’re coming. Lots of infantry. Not much in the way of tanks and artillery, though, at least that’s what Tokyo says.” For what that’s worth, we all thought, but didn’t say.
“How long do you think you can hold out, Guns? Do you think you can hold them off for a couple of days so we can rescue some of our guys?”
“General, I can do a lot better than that—a whole lot better.”
They climbed in and I drove part way up the hill and parked the Jeep. Then, as we got out and began to slip and slide on the snow covered hill, I explained how we’d used our status as the divisional rear headquarters to draw lots and lots of men, weapons, and supplies. More than we will ever need for ourselves. And that ever since we got here we’ve been digging in around the clock with all the heavy equipment we can beg, borrow, or steal.
“We stopped digging yesterday morning,” I explained, “and started organizing the retreat and gathering up some of the retreating troops to help fill our positions. Here’s a good example of what we’ve got.”
I point into a fully stocked position we are walking past. It was empty.
“It’s just big enough for two men to squeeze in and every one of them has a thirty or BAR in it and lots and lots and lots of ammo. Every so often we’ve got a position that is a little bigger with a recoilless rifle in it. The mortars and ammunition bunkers are dug in on the other side of the hill.”
Talley followed me as we threaded our way down a trench. The two colonels with the General said not a word. But they were sure looking around and murmuring to each other as they followed us and listened to my explanation.
After we walked and looked for a while General Talley turned to me and asks, “Okay Guns, give me a summary. What all have you got here?”
“Sir,” I said, as everyone stopped and leaned forward to listen carefully. “I have approximately 932 men here and another 407 artillery guys in a firebase on the other side of the river. They are my cadre. There are also about 392 ROK riflemen and laborers.”
On this hill I have approximately 1206 two-man fighting positions fully stocked with weapons and supplies. Each of the positions is stocked with either a thirty or a BAR and each has at least one spare AK-47 in addition to whatever personal weapons its occupants have. There are also approximately 92 positions with recoilless rifles, and approximately ten armor piercing rounds each, and 198 mortar positions with approximately two hundred and seventeen rounds each.”
“Approximately?” Talley asked me, rather kindly, with a half smile.
“Uh, Yes Sir, those are tentative numbers because we may have added a few more after I got the count. We made it yesterday morning before the men went up the road to man the roadblock. That’s where we’re passing out hot food and gasoline—and grabbing up the retreating heavy weapons guys and Marines who are healthy enough to fight.”
“I’ve also got six Shermans and seven Porcupines. They’re all up the road at the moment; to help block the Chinese while our guys get away. On the other side of the river I’ve got a firebase under Major Spinelli.”
“Tony’s a good man. He’s got twelve howitzers and a couple of 155 Long Toms. But Tony has positions and ammo for a lot more than that and we’re gonna fill them from the stuff that’s coming down the road. His guys are also running a second triage camp on the other side of the river to evaluate and sort out the troops we don’t grab to fight with us up here on the hill. He’s keeping some of the men for his firebase, and sending the rest to Seoul to help out there. The sick and wounded and the refugees are sent on to Pusan.”
Then we began walking again and, as we slipped and slid around the snow covered hill to the north side where the mortars are located, I reported that our equipment and supply situation is outstanding. I explained how we’d used our status as a divisional rear headquarters to draw trucks, weapons, and supplies; and that I’d even gotten seven gasoline tanker trucks to gas up retreating vehicles, at least enough to get them across the Han.
“We stopped digging yesterday,” I told Talley. “Now all we’re trying to do is slow down the Chinese advance while we rescue retreating troops and pull able-bodied Marines and heavy weapons guys out of the retreat to man our positions.”
“Major Hart, my exec, is in charge of slowing the Chinese down. He’s taken our Shermans andPorks up the road beyond the roadblock to act as a rearguard. He’s also got a lot of trucks to carry out the wounded and those who won’t make it if they have to walk.”
“Hart’s a good man; he’ll slow the Chinese down by moving back slowly from one ambush position to the next, until he rejoins us here.”
General Talley started walking again as I continued talking. Then he stopped walking so suddenly I almost bumped into him.
“Christ Guns, you’ve got a mini-division here and a full scale rescue operation going that’s sending reinforcements to Seoul instead of needing them from Seoul. It means we might be able to keep more forces in front of Seoul instead of sending them here. I’ve got to get back and tell Walker and Evans about this.”
“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Colonel Spelling here will take over command of the triage camp on the other side of the river. He’ll take over sorting out the incoming men and equipment you don’t grab. He knows where we’ll want them and he’ll stay as long as they keep coming.” He gestured with his gloved hand towards a tall brown haired colonel wearing plain army issue eyeglasses, who nodded back.
Who still hasn’t said a word. Hope he can talk.
Then all of us, except Colonel Spelling, walked rapidly back to the Jeep so I can drive General Talley and the colonel back to their helicopter. The helicopter looked broken with its sagging propellers, but Talley and the other colonel got in, and it took off in a really big cloud of dust and snow.
I looked around before I took a deep breath and started the Jeep. I could see Colonel Spelling jogging toward the crossroads’ tents as the helicopter heads back up the river valley towards Seoul, and the endless line of retreating trucks and other vehicles coming down the Pusan road.
Chapter Fifteen
I’ve been coming the ten miles or so through the mountains to the roadblock a couple of times a day for almost a week. This time I’ll stay until the Chinese arrive. Then we’ll begin a fighting retreat back down the road to 817 and the crossroads on either side of the Han River bridge. As I pulled into the roadblock I could see a line of trucks, vehicles, and walking men and refugees on the road to the north as far as the eye could see.
What a fuck up.
Distraught and struggling Korean refugees with blank faces were pouring into the roadblock carrying, pushing, and pulling what few possession they could. The few Korean vehicles that came in were crammed full with people, and belongings, stacked to the breaking point on their roofs and hoods. The refugees got a paper cup of hot tea, a paper bag full of rice balls that Captain Kim’s men prepared, and a ride to the triage camp on the other side of the Han. They got gas too.
Our roadblock consists of a couple of Shermans on each side of the road where the retreating troops can see them and know they’ve reached safety. Relatively speaking, of course. Each of the Shermans has at least one Pork positioned behind it to keep the enemy infantry from getting too close with their bazookas, or whatever they call them.
The Porks are jerry-rigged quad 50s mounted on the backs of our deuce and a halfs and three quarter ton trucks. Tanks are surprisingly vulnerable to infantry with hand held anti-tank weapons—but not when the tanks and the areas around them are periodically hosed off by the 50s on the Porks. At least that’s the plan.
There was also a new sign I hadn’t seen before: “Welcome to Checkpoint Roberts—gas, hot food, and post cards courtesy of Task Force 817.”
Christ, Talley and Evans will be pissed if they hear about that. But it gives me a pleasant buzz when I see it. I’m obviously not thinking straight.
The disorganized arriving troops who walk in are inevitably cold, and absolutely exhausted. They are routed straight into warm mess tents set up right next to the road, and instantly given a cup of hot coffee, a couple of hot egg sandwiches, and a big handful of Tootsie Rolls to stuff in their pockets.
As they are being handed their food and coffee each guy is asked about his unit and qualifications. The healthy-sounding walkers who are Marines and army heavy weapons guys are told to go out the back of the tent and board the waiting trucks which will take them to a hot meal and a warm place to get a good night’s sleep, long johns, and clean socks. Everyone else is told to walk over to the adjacent gas stop and get on one of the trucks that will take him on to the crossroads and over the river to Spelling’s triage camp.
