Soldiers and Marines Saga, page 12
The other slit, of course, is plugged up to keep out the cold and will stay that way until the Chinese arrive.
Our big problem is that the cold seems to sink into the holes and plays hell with fingers and feet. Keeping our hands and the water bottles from freezing turned out to be easy—we put a couple of candles in each position and hung a shelter half or woolen army blanket over the entrance to contain the candle and body heat. Toast your fingers so to speak.
Wish we had some marshmallows. That would be crazy as hell, but great for morale.
Frozen feet are something else, and nothing to joke about. The best we can do is have one guy sleep while the other guy sits with his feet inside a sleeping bag zipped up to his butt with his boots off. That way he can massage his double socked feet with his hands to keep them warm. The guys who have duffle bags, and not many of them do because I didn’t think to get them, are stuffing the bottom half of their sleeping bags into their bags.
Boy have we got crummy gear. The Chinese have better weapons, warmer clothes, and much better boots and mittens than we have. We don’t even have mittens.
The more Hart and I reminisced about how the North Koreans kept coming and coming when we first met, the more worried I became. It’s easy to believe the Chinese will hit us with human wave attacks when I remember how the Koreans attacked. They both, after all, learned from the Russians who apparently don’t give a shit about losing men, and believe in human wave attacks.
It worried me so much that when we get to the next field phone I called in a message to Captain Kim, telling him to put all his Koreans to work on getting more ammo into the positions in the first two trenches, particularly more belts for the 30s and more clips for the BARs and AK-47s.
I also called Ira and told him to pass the word for all the companies to immediately draw all the ammo and replacement barrels for the thirties they can stuff into their positions. It turns out to be a damn good thing I did.
******
Hammond just radioed in to report he’s lost another Sherman. Some Chinese hiding behind a rock along the road took it out with a bazooka type of rocket. There’s not much more he can do to delay the Chinese so I told him to beat feet and get his Shermans and Porks back here and into their hull down positions on the east side of the hill.
Our puny bazooka rounds would bounce off a Sherman. The Chinese must have better anti-tank weapons than we’ve been led to believe, and certainly much better than ours.
Finally, about two in the afternoon, I sent a message to General Talley telling him that in about an hour the Chinese will control the north-south road all the way to 817.
We’re down to four of our original Shermans, plus six more we picked up from the retreat. We have five Porks left and Spinelli’s guys at the firebase are rushing to make two more with a couple of quad fifties Washington found on what turned out to be his last trip to the Pusan docks. Spinelli says he’ll have both of them welded to the back of a couple of three quarter ton trucks and ready to send over to us in another hour or so.
Chapter Seventeen
I ordered an officers’ call for 0300. Even Hammond, as sleep deprived as he was, staggered in out of the darkness to attend. The Chinese advance elements will be arriving today and it’s important that all the troops understand the plan even if it means their officers don’t get enough sleep.
In the lantern light over hot cups of coffee and egg sandwiches in the south side mess tent, I went over it once again, then sent them out into the cold to walk their lines and make sure each and every one of their men understands what he is to do.
In a nutshell, the officers and senior noncoms of each company are to always be in the first or second lines of their company’s sector to make sure everyone performs and no one feels abandoned and leaderless. Men forced out of their positions are to move up their company’s trench toward the top of the hill and take over the first empty positions they come to. If possible they are to take their weapons and ammunition with them.
There are three new officers I haven’t met yet, all Marines. They were from the last batch of guys we pulled off the retreat to fill our ranks. I asked them to stick around for a minute.
We shook hands and exchanged the usual courteous pleasantries. Then I gave them a fast overview of the situation and explained to them what their men will have to do.
“Fire discipline is the key, your men have got to inflict massive casualties on the Chinese without wasting ammunition,” I concluded. They nodded their heads grimly.
If Marine officers and their NCOs understand anything, they understand fire discipline and the importance of accuracy.
Our plan is simple and you and your NCOs have got to drill it into every man’s head and make sure it happens. We’re going to pretend to be real weak to lure the Chinese infantry into mass attacks. Then when they get close enough we’re gonna open up and kill the sons of bitches, every goddamn one of them we can reach.
I sure hope the Chinese are dumb shits and fall for it.
******
Sure enough, about nine in the morning a Chinese patrol began cautiously coming down the road in front of us. They were heading towards the crossroads where the pontoon bridges used to stand. The bridges have already been blown and some of the floats and tracks were poking up out of the river ice.
We let the Chinese get a good look at the lack of activity on the hill and the destroyed bridges, and then moved them off with sporadic, but accurate, long range rifle fire. Some of our designated shooters are really good shots. Within minutes there were Chinese bodies along the road and in the drainage ditches running next to it.
At that point I radioed a contact report to Division, and told Hart to come over and stay at the four man command bunker until I get back. It’s my home on the line, the place where I try to live and sleep, which isn’t always easy since one or two guys are always there to handle the phones and radio.
Ira is usually on the phones and one of the replacement Charlies, usually Barney Gottstein, a steady sergeant from New York, on the radio. Barney drives me half crazy by saying “ya know” at the end of every sentence.
I also talked Lieutenant Candelaria at our little twenty man firebase up on the mountain across the river.
“Mark, the Chinese will be attacking pretty soon. Keep to the plan. You and your guys stay out of it for as long as possible so they don’t know you are there. Don’t open fire and let them know you are there unless I call you or they get at least half way up to hill towards our south side positions. How are your men holding up?”
“We’re good to go Boss,”
“Good man. Out”
Now what should I do?
“Come on Murph, let’s go see the troops again.”
We started by going down one of the diagonal trenches to our first line of positions on the far north side. Then we walked the front line trench all the way around to the far south side.
If we have time we’ll go up one of the vertical trenches and come back along the second line.
Everywhere the men were tense. It’s hard to explain but at the same time I sensed almost a feeling of relief that something was finally going to happen.
“Hey guys, how ya doin?”
“Let me or Lieutenant Morris know if you need anything.”
“Any chance there’ll be mail, Colonel?”
“Not for a while, but hang in there and let me or Murph here know if you need anything.
“Hi ya, Guns. How they hangin?”
“Pretty good, Charlie, How ya doin?”
“Hey Charlie, do me a favor. Help the new guys remember, single rifle shots only if the Chinese get through the five hundred yard wire and no automatic weapons unless they get through the hundred yard wire.”…
“Remember. No BARs, no thirties unless they are through the hundred yard wire.” …
“Let me know if you and your guys need anything.”
Over and over it was the same message.
“They’ll only probe at first. So hang tight. Single rifle shots from the designated shooters only. We don’t want them to know we got so much fire power up here. Let me know if you need anything.”
“No goddamn it. Only single shots from this position even if they get through the five hundred yard wire. No automatic weapons until they try human wave charges and then, no matter what, don’t start using that thirty until they get through the hundred yard wire.”
On the second line the message was different.”
We walked for hours and my feet got so cold I started worrying about frost bite.
“Don’t forget. Hold your fire until Lieutenant Brode gives the word.” … “Let the guys in the positions up front handle it. … Let me know if you need anything but remember, don’t let them know you are here. …”
“Remember, not until you get the word from Captain Apperson or Sergeant Jackson” …
“Don’t attract attention to yourself by firing too soon…”
******
About noon Murphy and I were coming back along the second line when everything suddenly got real tense. Murph and I, and the company officers and sergeants we’ve come across, had been reassuring each other that the men seem to get it and will be okay. Now we’ll know.
A battalion size group of gray-clad Chinese infantry was coming towards the hill in a skirmish line, about six hundred of them. They were about three thousand yards out, and advancing slowly and cautiously towards 817 and the Pusan Road running along beneath us.
Murphy and I crowded into the nearest position, to the surprise and discomfort of the two Marine privates occupying it. I began watching the gooks using the binoculars General Talley gave me a couple of lifetimes ago when we first met and he commissioned me.
Rifle shots from our designated shooters began when the Chinese were about twelve hundred yards out. They intensified as the Chinese got closer and there was the brief rattle of a BAR from way up on the hill. By the time the Chinese reached the five hundred yard wire there was a string of dead and wounded Chinese behind them and they start backing up; and then they take off in a panicked running retreat.
Hot damn. It worked.
Murphy went off to rip a new asshole in whoever fired the BAR. Then he’s to move along the trenches and tell the guys good work and keep up the fire discipline. I jogged up to the command bunker wearing a big smile and waving a big thumbs up to everyone I see.
“So far, so good,” I said to Hart as I pushed aside the hanging army blanket and barge into the command post. “What’s the latest?”
“Both observation posts report troops massing here and here,” Jim said as he pointed to a spot on the wrinkled and dirty map on the wooden ammunition case that serves as our desk.
“From their descriptions it sounds like there’s a division here and maybe a division here. Both report six thousand or so men at each location. No tanks. Probably infantry coming out of the hills. Shall I have Spinelli hit’em?”
“No. Not this time. Let’s wait a bit before we spring that little surprise.”
******
About three in the afternoon both observation posts phoned in to report the Chinese behind Hill 492 were moving. The other batch was staying put. The sky had been overcast all day and darkening even more for the past hour. It looked like we were about to get some snow. Hopefully that would make things even tougher for the Chinese who were out there in the open.
Our observers really worry me. I hope the Chinese don’t find those phone lines and back track them. I know its war, and they are officers, and volunteers, but if the Chinese get them, I’ll probably feel guilty for the rest of my life for putting them out there all alone.
After sending an updated contact report to General Talley, I reaffirmed the order to be telephoned, and a runner sent, to all of our units. We will again respond as if we were only an entrenched rifle company, just like we’ve planned and discussed over and over again. That means we’ll again be going with only two mortars, two thirties, Six BARs, and continuous single shot rifle fire from the designated shooters on the front line.
Only the men designated as shooters, and only them, are to engage as soon as they think the Chinese are in range. I also give the order for the mortars to stand by to fire flares in case they decide to hit us after dark. And that’s what happened.
The Chinese hit us about two hours after dark. Hart and I were both up at the top of the hill in our “big” four-man command post when the Chinese approached. Our mortar flares lit them up before the attack started. Then the two mortars began firing as fast as they could, alternating between flares and anti-personnel rounds.
“Roseman, must have his two best crews firing,” was the only comment Hart made during the entire attack.
Next time I’m going to send Hart around the corner of the hill to the alternate command post. We can’t afford to lose both of us at the same time if the Chinese get lucky.
Chapter Eighteen
The Chinese formed up about two thousand yards out and then, unbelievably, waited in the open under the flares while our two mortars devastated them.
Stay there. Stay there. Stay there. Damn, they’re moving.
After taking at least ten minutes of pounding, the Chinese finally, at exactly 2100 hours, began moving towards us. Our two mortars walked them all the way in.
Finally, what was left of the Chinese troops started a human wave charge from about two thousand yards out. It was as bright as day from our mortar flares when the two 30s, six BARs, and the designated shooters on the front line started engaging them at about fifteen hundred yards. There were even a few flashes from higher up on the hill and some moron, with a thirty, burned out its barrel from a position on our third line.
The flashes from up on the hill quickly stopped as irate sergeants and junior officers quickly kicked and pushed their way into the positions that were disregarding their firing orders. The second, third, and fourth line guys were to stay out of it unless the Chinese got through the fifty yard wire.
The noise from the firing down below our position was a continuing roar and, it must be my imagination, I think I can sometimes hear Chinese screams and shouts. There were also increasing flashes from the front of the Chinese mass as the troops in the front begin firing as they got closer and closer.
We’re gonna take casualties. I hope the non-shooters keep their heads down. Maybe I should have made that clearer.
Watching the oncoming Chinese mesmerized me. I felt like I was in a trance, and for a few seconds I thought I’d made a terrible mistake in holding down our response.
But then the Chinese turned and ran. We watched them go under the bright light of our flares. Our shooters and mortars kept firing until they were out of range. The snow in front of us was littered with dead and wounded Chinese—and, damn it, some of our guys are shooting at the Chinese wounded as they struggled to get away. We want their wounded to survive so they’ll eat into the Chinese supplies and manpower.
“We got lucky,” I said to Hart with my eyes still glued to the binoculars. I was watching the surviving Chinese disappear into the darkness beyond the mortar flares. There was still shooting and the mortars continued to follow them. Then our small arms fire trailed off and, finally, our two mortars also quit firing.
Hart was outraged at the Chinese commander.
“Jesus, the Chinese commander was a fool, Guns. He got his men all lined up and then left them vulnerable out there while he waited for the exact time he was ordered to attack.
“Yeah,” I agreed without taking my eye away from my binoculars. “He’s a dead duck if fragging is practiced by the Chinese when they’ve got an incompetent in command. But it’s damn lucky for us.”
The Chinese commander reminds me of Pettyjohn. Maybe he has Chinese relatives.
“Our two little mortars really pounded them” Hart agreed after a pause. “I bet he lost almost half his men before he started. You’re right. What a jerk.”
I don’t know why, but I agree with Hart—it really bothers me that the Chinese commander just threw away his men’s lives like that.
The ground in front of the hill was covered with Chinese. Many lay motionless in the snow but some were wounded and trying to crawl away.
There is still scattered shooting but it soon ended. I’d given strict orders that the Chinese wounded should be left alive.
“Every wounded guy helps eat up the Chinese supplies and takes someone out of the fight to care for him.” That’s the word I had our officers give their men. Obviously some of them didn’t get the word.
Murphy came in with a big smile and summed things up pretty accurately. “Hey Guns, I think we really ripped those motherfuckers a new asshole.”
“Yeah, Murph, I think we did,” I said with a smile and a nod. Think nothing. We tore them up real good.
******
Both the radio man and Ira were answering a constant stream of phone calls from the companies and everywhere else as I stepped back from the narrow firing gap in the sand bags that I use as my observation port. The first few for me were of a babbled relief nature, so I quickly told Ira and Barney to be curt when they answer the phone.
“Ask everyone who calls ‘what’s your message?’ if they ask for me or Major Hart. If it doesn’t sound important, tell them someone will get back to them.” Then I sent Murphy off to make sure our casualties are immediately evacuated and replaced.
No telling when the Chinese will try again.
Captain Kim pushed aside the blanket over the entrance and came rushing in wild-eyed. He was ecstatic, absolutely beside himself with excitement. I had agreed to his request that he be one of the designated shooters on the first line.
