Soldiers and Marines Saga, page 18
And the replacement crew are a hell of lot warmer, and safe, inside the Sherman with its heater going than they were a few minutes earlier sitting on the gas cans in the back of their deuce and a half.
******
The sun was just starting to appear on the horizon behind us, when we met a long Chinese convoy coming the other way. Trucks and walking men were coming towards us on the left side of the road; walking men on the right. Now we’re the ones silhouetted against the light.
Oh Christ here it comes.
But nothing happened, and we closed quickly. Our first six vehicles are Shermans with plows. They literally smashed the Chinese trucks and troops off the road, and kept right on going. Then the Chinese vehicles, and troops, were raked with automatic weapon fire as we went by. There was some return fire, but not much. We were obviously a total surprise to the Chinese.
Damn it’s working. This is exciting.
Everything was going well when suddenly the next to last Mini-Pork in the column, the deuce and a half behind the gas tanker, ground to a halt where the road narrows. When it stopped, it trapped the tail-end mini-pork behind it. We kept going, while the last vehicle in the column, an armored personnel carrier, carried out its assignment; it quickly moved up, stopped behind the disabled vehicle, and dropped its ramp. The troops from both of the Mini-Porks instantly dismounted, and literally dove into the carrier’s empty troop compartment.
After a minute or so of confusion, and rapidly increasing Chinese small arms fire from the survivors of the Chinese road column, the APC lifted its rear ramp, pushed the disabled Mini-Pork out of the way, and scurried after the column, leaving the two Mini-Porks deserted, empty, and somewhat blocking the road.
About two miles down the road, we stopped for a few moments and, to our horror, found three dead and nine wounded Marines in the tail end APC. Enemy rounds ricocheting around inside the troop space, when its ramp was down, had reaped a terrible toll. Everyone in the troop compartment was dead or wounded. It was a terrible blow, but nothing comparable to the destruction we just visited on the Chinese convoy.
We now have eight dead and twenty-two wounded, three quite seriously, and the radio was alive with people talking, and cutting each other off, to the point of being useless. “Stop talking. Goddamn it, everyone stop talking,” I ordered.
Big Joe, and one of the Marine medics, ran back to the APC and jumped in with a box of plasma and medical supplies. We kept going, and quickly got back up to speed—the twenty miles per hour cruising speed the Shermans can handle.
I sure hope Big Joe got into the personnel carrier, and we didn’t leave anyone behind.
“Guns to Jimmy O. Did everyone make it into the APC?”
******
Two days later at about three o’clock, on a murky afternoon, we reached the Han River road that runs towards Seoul in one direction, and the crossroads below Hill 817 in the other. Everyone was exhausted as we headed for home. We’ve lost seven Mini-Pork trucks, a couple of Jeeps, three Porks, and two Shermans.
One of the Shermans was lost to enemy fire in a firefight yesterday and one threw a track this morning, and had to be destroyed. Worse, we have nineteen dead, and forty-two wounded, out of the 217 of us who started out three days ago. But we seem to have torn up the Chinese rear real good. There is no doubt about it, there will be fewer Chinese attacking Seoul in the days ahead.
The gas truck, and the new sergeant driving it, made it all the way.
Everyone dismounted, and stood in the snow, as we pulled into the firebase. Without a word being spoken, we all stood shivering in the snow, and saluting, as the armored personnel carriers and the truck with our dead and wounded, ground their way past us, and headed to the firebase’s aid station. Then Ira pushed me back into the Jeep, and drove me to the firebase’s aid station to get the bullet groove in my butt sewed up.
What made the raid work, I reported to General Talley that evening, is that the Chinese have little or no communication between their units. Every convoy or position we came upon was taken by surprise and unready to fight. Whatever the reason, we tore them up real good, and undoubtedly caused a great deal of confusion in the Chinese rear.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Everything changed once again late in February. Only sixteen of the original Charlies were left when Ridgeway’s forces came busting out of their perimeter, and once again began moving north. Once again I stood on Hill 817, and watched American armor and vehicles pouring north on the highway below our positions. By March 14th, what was left of Seoul was once again recaptured.
Then in April everything changed yet again when the Chinese responded with a new offensive against Seoul. MacArthur’s supporters are saying the Chinese were encouraged by Ridgeway replacing MacArthur. But that’s bullshit. It’s probably because the Chinese think they can pull it off and, what the hell, their troops are already there and they won’t have to keep feeding them if they get killed.
Whatever the reason, the Chinese launched a massive counterattack in an effort to retake Seoul. And once again the vehicles and armor flowing down the Pusan Road at the foot of 817 are southbound. And once again we set up a roadblock and provided a rear guard for retreating UN troops.
It was a big offensive, and all of the American and United Nations troops north of the Han were trying to breaking off contact and pull back. And once again all of our Shermans, and Porks, were either at the roadblock or strung out in ambush positions above and below it to provide cover.
We were as ready as we could be. Lieutenant Colonel Hart was once again in charge of the rear guard with Hammond’s replacement, Jimmie Speyer who is now a major, as his number two. They were both up with the rearguard, and falling back towards the roadblock Shermans and Porks, now commanded by Captain Ian Crawford of the Royal Australians. Our trucks were, once again, going up the road to pick up walkers.
It’s the same old thing all over again.
But we were better organized than last time. We really were. There was more organization among the retreating units, and the troops weren’t so scared and panicked. Even so, it was still chaotic, and we were once again grabbing heavy weapons guys for the taskforce.
There were other differences. For one, there were no Marines coming through. Even so, we were able to get everyone we needed to fill our positions on the hill, including a hundred or so reasonably healthy guys from a gung ho Ranger company, and an entire company of highly trained French Legionnaires, as well as a handful of Brits, and Aussies, who had managed to get away when their positions had been overrun.
At least, this time we have a better idea of who to take.
Even so, things are significantly different. For one thing, there are very few refugees. The bad news is that, because it is even colder than it was the last time, almost all the retreating troops who walk are casualties because they have some degree of frostbite. It seems their feet sweat when they walk, and then their socks and boots freeze solid when they stop walking to rest or fight.
Our boots are still not worth a good goddamn in freezing weather.
The good news is that many more of the troops reaching the roadblock are in vehicles, and they have not been subjected to constant enemy attacks and sniping along the road. This time the communists are attacking Russian style in division strength human wave attacks all across Korea, not infiltrating their men into the mountains to fight in small units the way the Chinese did when they first entered the war.
More importantly, we were able to pull out of the roadblock without engaging the Chinese after the last of our retreating units passed through. In fact, we didn’t have a single casualty, except for a PFC on a gas truck who got such frostbitten fingers that two of them had to be amputated. The damn fool lost his gloves, and stayed on the job without telling his sergeant until it was too late.
We’re up to full strength again. And we’ve become a virtual United Nations field force by adding the retreating French, British, and Australian troops to our Americans and South Koreans. And, once again, we were avoided. The Chinese concentrated their forces on retaking Seoul.
******
Sure as God made little green apples, the goddamn Chinese pushed ahead, despite their losses, and Seoul again started to evacuate. The rear echelon of the army began moving back to Taegu, and then on to Pusan.
And once again, almost immediately, Chinese infiltrators cut the roads on both sides of the Han River. As a result, no refugees and troops retreating from Seoul came into the warming and triage tents we established at the crossroads. So the tents came down, and we kept our equipment busy doing what we could to dig more, and ever deeper, holes and trenches into the frozen ground.
What followed was a typical army SNAFU. First came an order from Tokyo to evacuate. An hour later the Korean Command ordered us to hold. Then Tokyo again ordered us to retreat. That was followed by another order from the Korean Command to stand firm.
Finally, Talley called me and ordered me to destroy the pontoon bridge over the Han that we overlook, and hold, as long as possible, so the Chinese can’t replace it. Then I’m to get as many of my men as I can over the river and into the new Pusan perimeter that is being established.
I immediately called Spinelli and Hutchinson on our land line, and told them we’ve been ordered to stay put, and do our best to keep the Chinese armor and vehicles off the Pusan Road. We quickly moved all our vehicles across the bridge, and the engineers blew it.
Chinese infantry will still be able to walk around us, cross the frozen Han on foot, and move south. But until they replace the bridge, and get us off 817, they will neither be able to support their infantry with armor and towed artillery, nor bring up the supply trucks and replenish them.
******
Our rear echelon troops retreated from Seoul for almost a week. But this time, to everyone’s surprise, Seoul held. Meanwhile, increasingly isolated on 817, we held on with only occasional sniping and mortar attacks to keep us awake. The Chinese learned a hard lesson with their earlier mass infantry attacks against 817, and apparently had no intention of repeating them.
Instead, the Chinese infantry were going around the hill on both sides and moving south over the frozen river. They even hand carried enough wooden boats and tracks across the mountains to suddenly build a pontoon bridge far enough west on the Han that Tony’s artillery couldn’t reach it.
But their tanks and vehicles can’t reach it either; we wouldn’t let them come down the road. The Chinese tried to force their way past us in the middle of the same snowy night they threw up the bridge. We lit them up with flares, and our hull down Shermans did the rest; the snow covered road was littered with burning tanks and vehicles in the morning, and we lost three of our twelve Shermans.
A few Chinese tanks dashed past us unscathed, and were able to get across on their new bridge. They were quickly eliminated by Spinelli and Hutchinson when they tried to come back on the other side of the river to rejoin the Pusan road.
When the snow stopped, and visibility improved two days later, the air force quickly took out the Chinese bridge, and the Chinese quit trying to advance, and began surrendering. Spinelli and Hutchinson suddenly found themselves saddled with hundreds of Chinese prisoners, and a couple of captured T-34s.
Everything changed when Seoul held, and the Chinese effort to bypass 817 failed. The Chinese began trying to set up a defensive line on the north side of the Han.
“Ira, has Captain Rust called in yet from the observation post?”
“Not yet, Guns.”
“When he does, I need to talk to him. Tell him to hold on and come get me. I need to talk to him.”
Calling Rust is not an option for fear the Chinese or North Koreans might be near his concealed post and hear the phone ringing.
“Guns, I got Rust.”
“Hey Chuck, how are you doing?”
“Good Colonel, there’s been a lot of visitors down below, pretty close, but I’m pretty well hidden up here.”
“I know.. uh, Chuck, it looks like this thing is going to settle down while the high and mighty try to negotiate some kind of peace agreement. And the longer you stay out there, the more likely it is that they’ll find you. So it’s time for you to pull out. Don’t destroy anything. We may need it again. And don’t take chances. Just head south when you can and, for God’s sake, be careful and dress real warm; wet and windy can turn you hypothermic in a big hurry.”
“Right boss, I’ll try to leave as soon as it gets dark. See you soon.”
Two nights later, a bedraggled and frost bitten Chuck Rust walked into our lines, and almost got himself shot by one of our nervous sentries. How he got through the Chinese, I’ll never know. What I do know is that he’s going to get another medal, and a commander’s evaluation that will put him on the list for an early promotion to major.
Chapter Twenty-eight
It was the middle of May, and the winter cold has been replaced by rain and clouds. It’s still chilly, and the winter snow is still on the hills. The Chinese have set up a line of trenches about a mile away; we are digging ours deeper to get more protection from artillery strikes. It’s sort of like World War One.
Talley just called. He and Ridgeway are coming for an almost-on-the-front-lines decoration ceremony. I’m to get another medal for leading the counterattack down the trench, and another DSC for the raid. A whole lot of purple hearts, and other decorations, are also going to be awarded. Ira, Jim Hart, Murphy, Big Joe, and Flacco will each get another Silver Star. Hammond will get one posthumously. Then I’m off for a week of R & R in Tokyo.
General Talley asked me to stop in Seoul and visit with him before I leave for Tokyo. We had coffee in the pre-fab trailer that is his new office.
“What are your plans, Guns? Is it true you’ve extended for another tour?”
“Yes Sir, I have. I know it sounds crazy but I actually like leading men in combat. It seems to fit me, though I don’t really know why.”
Actually I do know why I’m staying, but I’m not going to admit it: It’s exciting, and I like being needed. Crazy huh?
“Well you’re damn good at it, and that’s for sure. And we’re going to need you. Despite all the talk of peace negotiations, this war looks to be lasting a long time. And then we’ve got the goddamned Russians.
“The only problem is that you’ve got those medals. The army doesn’t like to lose people who’ve got them. There’s no written rule, but the understanding is that they won’t be on the front lines. Or, in your case,” he smiled, “in front of the front lines.
“Your problem will come later when there’s peace, and the Pettyjohns of the world again run the army. You don’t have a college degree. You’ll be able to stay in for as long as you want because of the medals, but you’ll never get another promotion or command, unless there is another war.”
******
The trench warfare that began in May of 1951 stretched on for more than two years, and I stayed at the front as commander of the task force for the entire time. Almost all the original guys were long gone. The only exceptions were Murphy, Hart, and Big Joe. They stayed for a third tour, along with the Koreans, led by Lieutenant Colonel Kim and Major Kim, and the company of French legionnaires led by Major LeMoin.
The Koreans and legionnaires have no such thing as a rotation policy. They will serve on the front lines for the duration. Lieutenant Colonel Kim became the task force’s executive officer when Hart’s replacement rotated a year after Hart left.
Ira really touched me. He told me he was going to extend once again for a fourth tour because I am. But I talked him out of it. And then I did the same for Big Joe.
“Your luck can’t hold forever. With your medals and warrant you can stay in the army as long as you want. But it’s time for you to go home while you can. I’m different. I’ve got no one to go home to.” And I like commanding troops in combat.
******
Talley and his new deputy division commander, newly promoted brigadier Dick Spelling, kept in close touch with of all of the division’s units, including mine, and it almost cost me my career. It was in the spring of ’53, and I was visiting the division headquarters a month or so after Ridgeway replaced MacArthur when, in total ignorance, I made what could have been a career-ending mistake.
We were drinking coffee, and going over the best way to use some newly arrived self propelled 155s. Somehow the question of MacArthur’s replacement came up.
“For all his arrogance he was a brilliant general,” I said. “It somehow doesn’t seem right that the President replaced him because his intelligence chief missed the Chinese invasion. Ridgeway is a great general too but it’s a pity the politicians interfered with MacArthur.”
Talley sat up and looked daggers at me. And Spelling stiffened in disbelief.
I obviously said something terribly wrong. What? What? I racked my brain.
I knew it was serious when Talley told his two aides to step out of the room and close the door. Then he turned to Spelling and said “I didn’t hear that and neither did you.”
Then he turned to me, and sternly said something to the effect that “I’m going to give you a pass on that because I know you didn’t mean it and don’t know any better, but it better never happened again.”
What?
My confusion and total lack of understanding must have shown. It was certainly real. Talley saw my confusion and his voice softened a bit. He told me I was the best combat commander he had ever known, but he made it quite clear that I was sorely lacking in knowledge about America’s history, government, and particularly the role of the military and its place in the world.
