Hi Bert,
It is odd that today would be the
day that I would start writing about a few of my
memories from Korea. On this date, August 16,
1950, the 1st Marine Division sailed for Korea.
This is not a story of combat but a history of my
journey into the Marine Corps.
When I started writing this it
was going to be a very short piece about my
experiences at Hungnam and Chosin in North Korea.
As I wrote I realized that I needed to leave an
account of my life in the Corps. I also realized
that future generations of my offspring needed to
know something about me. I wish that I had the
history of our family dating back to the
Revolution. I am extremely proud that our family
has served in all of the wars of this great
nation.
Our family left Scotland and
England in the 1600's and early 1700's
and migrated to Virginia and North Carolina.
After the Revolution and during the westward
movement they settled in Butler, Ohio, and
Muhlenberg Counties in Kentucky. Most of my
family were farmers and after the Civil War lost
their land and wealth.
I grew up in a heavy industrial
area just south of Chicago. In those days it was
known as the Calumet Region and was comprised of
the Northwestern Indiana towns of Whiting, East
Chicago, Indiana Harbor, Hammond, and Gary. I was
born and raised in Whiting and it was a wonderful
place to spend ones youth.
Many Kentuckians in search of
jobs left Kentucky to seek work in Chicago and
Detroit. I'm sure that many went in other
directions, but my family migrated to the Chicago
area. Both grandfathers, my Dad, and Uncle were
employed by the Standard Oil Refinery in Whiting.
The time was 1926, just before the big
depression. Dad was only 16 and was a rivet
bucker and catcher. Hard work for one so young,
but they were accustomed to hard work. My
maternal grandfather had been a coal miner in
Kentucky, and my paternal grandfather was a
mussel fisherman dredging mussels from the Wabash
River using a rowboat. The meat was sold for hog
feed, the shell for mother-of-pearl. He sometimes
found a fresh water pearl that he sold at market.
They were hard working, very religious, moral
men. Their handshake and their word was all that
was needed. I remember that we, as young people,
would say "shake", or ask, "On
your Mother's honor". To break this pact
would have been unthinkable.
I was born on December 23, 1929
in a third story walkup apartment on Sheridan
Avenue in Whiting. Both Mom and Dad were 19 years
of age and the depression was in its early
stages. By all of us living together we weathered
the depression. Living in a blue-collar town
softened the effects of not having a whole lot.
Whiting was a melting pot of Eastern Europeans
and Kentuckians all in search of work. No one had
much more than their neighbors and sharing was
common .
My love affair with the United
States Marine Corps began during World War II. My
Dad was a 1st Sgt with the Indiana National Guard
, 38th Division, and I desperately wanted to be
in the Army like my Dad and his friends. I spent
many hours at the Armory in Whiting with Dad and
the 113th Combat Engineer Troop. With the advent
of World War II many of the men in our family
joined the United States Marine Corps.
The stories coming back from the
Pacific area were mostly about Marines and their
bravery. I was only 13 when the war began and I
fell in love with the Marine Corps and the men
that served. That love and admiration for the
Corps remains to this day, 57 years later.
I enlisted in the Marine Corps on
February 24, 1948 in Chicago, Illinois and was
sent to Parris Island for boot training. I was
just barely eighteen years of age. Boot Camp was
quite an experience back in the 40s. It was very
physical and mental in an attempt to break you.
Better that you broke in Boot Camp rather than on
the field of battle where your life and those of
your friends might be endangered.
I was a squad leader in Platoon
38. The senior D.I. was S/Sgt Jack DeLoach, a
World War II veteran. The junior D.I. was Cpl.
Walthers. DeLoach was tough as oak but he was
fair. I found out years later that S/Sgt DeLoach
was at Hagaru-ri with G/3/1. I talked to him a
few years ago and told him that I would have felt
a lot safer had I known that he was there. It was
at Parris Island, that we learned the lessons
that would get us through the terrible times that
we would face in Korea. It may seem to some that
our training was harsh but our training was what
got us through Chosin and other battles.
At the end of boot training I was
assigned to the Parris Island Marine Band. I was
a fairly accomplished musician having studied
professionally in Chicago with Layton
"Buck" Wells. I played with Chicago
area dance bands prior to my enlistment. During
World War II we played weekly for the troops at
the USO located in South Chicago.
Band duty wasn't what you
might think. It was all spit and polish. We spent
many hours keeping uniforms spotless, shoes spit
shined, and our personal grooming in tip top
shape. We were in the public eye more than other
Marines. We had open rank inspections every
morning and woe be to the young Marine that
didn't fit the mold.
In February of 1949 I was
reassigned to the 1st Marine Division at Camp
Pendleton, Ca. The Korean War broke out on June
25th of 1950 and the Division sent a Brigade made
up of the 5th Marine Regiment, and supporting
troops from the Division. I was a short timer so
I didn't get to go even though I
volunteered.
Between the outbreak of
hostilities and the Division sailing for Korea
our enlistments were extended a year by what was
called "The Truman Year". This made it
possible for the military to keep active duty
personnel for an additional year. The military
had been stripped to the bone following World War
II. There were less than 75,000 in the entire
Marine Corps. The 1st Marine Division had a
strength of approximately 7,500. That was 18,500
under strength for a full Marine Division. The
2nd and 6th Marine Regiments from the 2nd Marine
Division were shipped to the 1st Marine Division
to help bring us up to strength.
Many personnel in other than
Infantry billets now found themselves in Marine
Infantry. That was true in my case. I had been a
saxophonist with the 1st Marine Division Band one
day, and was a machine gunner the next. All
Marine Reserve Units were activated making the
old saying "Every Marine a Rifleman"
true. At the start of the Korean War I had been
in the Marine Corps for 2 1/2 years and I was
still a PFC. Rank was extremely hard to make in
those days. You could be reduced in rank rather
quickly. Military justice in those days in the
Naval Service was under what was called
"Rocks and Shoals" and you were guilty
until proven innocent. Court martials were a Deck
Court Martial which usually got the miscreant 5
days piss and punk (bread and water). A Summary
Court Martial was next followed by the highest
and worst, a General Court Martial which usually
got the person a dishonorable discharge.
We still had a tradition called
"drumming out". I only saw this once
since the old "Rock and Shoals" were
soon to be replaced by the Uniform Code of
Military Justice. The person being drummed out
was brought before the entire battalion. He was
placed so that the entire group could see his
disgrace unfold. His acts causing this treatment
were read to the assembled troops. The man was
then stripped of all insignia, and adornments. He
was told that he had turned his back on the
Corps, and that we in turn would turn our backs
on him. We were then given about face so that our
backs were to him. He would then be drummed to
the front gate where he was released. I realize
that this tradition of drumming someone out may
sound cruel, but I wish that they had never
stopped this tradition. I would have died before
facing this disgrace. I could never have returned
to my family. The disgrace would have been too
devastating.
Marine combat success in Korea
was due to the strict Marine training that we
received and the combat readiness of the
Division. Our Officers were mostly veterans of
the worst combat of World War II and many of the
enlisted men had also been bloodied in World War
II. It was not uncommon to serve with a PFC or
Corporal that had fought in some of the worst
battles in WWII. I knew Marine Raiders that were
still PFCs. In short, we had a perfect blend of
what was called "Old Corps" or
"The Old Breed" in charge of young
Marines, "The New Breed", ready to
prove themselves. I take great pride in now being
part of "The Old Breed".
Our Regimental and Battalion
Commanders were all WWII heroes. Names like
"Chesty" Puller commanding the 1st
Regiment, Ray Murray commanding the 5th Regiment,
and Homer "Blitzin" Litzenberg
commanding the 7th Regiment. The Division was
commanded by Major General Oliver P. Smith and
his assistant was Brig. General Edward Craig. Two
finer leaders and gentlemen never walked this
earth. We were in complete awe of our officers
and NCOs and would prove to them that we were
also good Marines and could be counted on.
My group departed San Diego on
August 16, 1950 aboard the USNS Phoenix (United
States Naval Ship). She carried a civilian crew
and was not intended to handle as many troops as
she did. A good part of our days were spent
standing in chow lines. We ate by a series of
identifying colors. Each man had a colored tag
that he wore which indicated the group to which
he had been assigned. You would get out of one
chow line and start queueing up for the next
chow. The chow hall was tiny and couldn't
seat that many men at one time so the lines were
long and it took forever to finally make it in
for chow. A few days into our trip I was put on
mess duty. Generally I hated this duty but this
turned out to be very fortunate for me. I no
longer had to stand in those long chow lines and
in addition ate before all of the colored tag
guys.
After sixteen days of boredom
aboard the Phoenix we finally arrived in Kobe,
Japan. While still at sea I saw a sight that has
remained with me for all these years. A volcano
was erupting and the sight at night was one of
the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.
We debarked from the USNS Phoenix
and were transported to Osaka where we were
billeted in the barracks that the Wolfhound
Regiment of the US Army had vacated. They were
already in Korea on the Pusan Perimeter. We were
instructed to turn in our .45s and were issued M1
Garands since we were now part of machine gun
squads. I was elated for I respected the
distance, accuracy, and the fire power of the M1.
I don't believe that a finer combat weapon
has ever been designed. The gunner and assistant
gunner kept their .45s. I had qualified with both
the M1 and .45 at Parris Island and Pendleton. We
spent most of the next three days field stripping
the machine gun and reassembling it. I was
assigned duties as an ammo bearer and
rifleman.
While billeted at Osaka a violent
hurricane hit the area causing much destruction
and loss of life. I only mention this since we
sailed and rode the tail end of this storm for
the invasion of Inchon. We boarded the USS George
Clymer in Kobe for the final leg into our
journey.
The trip to Korea and Inchon was
in very heavy seas. You could hear the screw of
the ship leave the water when the fantail would
lift completely out of the water. There would
then be a tremendous crashing and trembling as
the aft section of the ship hit the water. This
went on for a couple of days since the trip to
Inchon was only a couple of days.
Religious ceremonies were held
aboard the USS George Clymer just prior to our
landing at Inchon. Division Headquarters was
billeted on the USS George Clymer. Our Commanding
General, Oliver Prince Smith, and our Chaplains
led us in very solemn religious services held in
the troop compartment. Communion was offered and
for the first and last time in my life I took
Communion. I was raised in the Nazarene faith and
we did not take Communion unless we were leading
an exemplary Christian life. I thought that under
the circumstances God would understand and
approve. The sight of young Marines going to
services before battle is a very moving
experience. For some of them this would be their
last service.
We were served the traditional
breakfast of steak and eggs early on the morning
of invasion day which was September 15, 1950.
This seems to me to be reminiscent of a condemned
man's last meal. There wasn't fear among
the troops. They were now going to earn their pay
which in my case was the tidy sum of $75.00 a
month. Not a whole lot to lay your life on the
line, but we were excited that we were going to
do what Marines do best....an amphibious
assault.
I wish that I could describe the
scene at Inchon but for some reason I have very
little memory of the events leading up to our
landing. I have seen scenes of the bombardment
and the noise must have been deafening, but I
don't remember much of it. My wife thinks
that I was scared to death and have blotted it
out of my mind, but I don't think that is the
case. I do remember that we cleared the mess area
on the USS George Clymer and casualties were
being brought back to the ship. I think that this
is the first notion I had that this wasn't
like the movies. Young men were getting hurt
after they landed at Wolmi-do. I remember seeing
the planes as they strafed and rocketed the area.
I can still see the smoke from the destruction
they were causing on a hill overlooking the
landing area.
We, Headquarters, 1st Marine
Division, were not landed until a day or so after
the initial landing. I was afraid that it would
all be over before we landed. When we finally did
land we were loaded onto trucks for the trip to
an area near Kimpo. On the way we passed five or
six North Korean tanks
that had been taken out by Marine Air. There were
dead North Korean tankers sprawled over the tops
of the tanks burned by the napalm of the
attacking planes. I knew for certain that people
were getting more than hurt, they were being
killed.
The first day in our perimeter we
started getting mortar fire. If you have never
been in a mortar barrage you can't know the
feeling. Especially those first rounds. There is
a noise kind of like a spluttering sound and
then.....the explosion. I started to run around
in a mad dance of indecision. It was already too
late to take cover but I didn't know that at
the time. That night we were put out on the
perimeter. There was some small arms fire during
the night and my eyes must have been the size of
saucers for the remainder of the night
I remember crossing the Han River
at night on Amtracs.
We entered Seoul and
the city was in absolute shambles. That first
night I and one of my gun mates made a very
stupid decision. There was still sporadic
fighting in the city but we, I believe it was
John Murphy and myself, decided that we would go
out and try to find some beer or sake. We started
out amid the ruins of the city and it was as if
there was not another living soul around. Nothing
but demolished buildings. Our foray was
unsuccessful and we just about got lost until we
came to a South Korean Police Outpost and they
helped direct us back to our area.
That was the last time that we
made a beer run, but the next day we were offered
a bottle of wine to purchase from a Korean
civilian. We bought the bottle and during the
drinking of the wine we discovered that it was
sacramental wine from one of the Catholic
Churches. I hope that God forgives us for
drinking consecrated wine but at that time Murphy
and I needed it.
On our departure from Seoul we
again boarded trucks for the trip to Ascom City.
As we rounded a curve near Inchon I was struck by
a scene that I have firmly fixed in my mind. On
the side of a hill there was the American
Cemetery with rows of white crosses. I knew for
certain that our people were really getting hurt.
Unlike the movies there were no beautiful ladies
to greet us, no flags waving, no throngs of
people cheering our victory. Just those white
crosses standing as silent sentinels. I will
forever see the scene in my mind.
We boarded the USS George Clymer
for the run to Wonsan. There was to be another
amphibious assault behind the lines. I had no
idea where we were headed. What was to be a short
trip turned in to a sixteen day voyage that is
now referred to as "Operation Yo Yo".
Due to the extensive mines in Wonsan harbor we
could not land. Rations were in short supply
since the ships were not loaded with enough food
for a trip of that duration.
I don't remember being that
deprived of meals, but I believe the guys on the
LSTs (Landing Ship Tank) were in worse condition
than that those of us on APAs (Attack
Transports). We finally made an Administrative
Landing at Wonsan in October. The weather was
beginning to change and with cold wet feet and
squishy boondockers we walked to a point where we
were met by trucks and taken to our location in
Wonsan. I remember the smell of apples after we
landed. There was a large apple orchard nearby. I
secured some apples and they were very juicy and
delicious. This was the first fresh food that I
had tasted since leaving the states. Apples were
to play a role later while we were in Wonsan.
One scene that I didn't see
but that has been reported extensively was a sign
stating that Bob Hope welcomed the First Marine
Division to Wonsan. The ROK (Republic of Korea
Army) had swept through the area before we landed
and the resistance here was minimal so his show
was already setup. We were not permitted to
attend any performances. We had more important
work to do. I don't know who he entertained
but it certainly wasn't the First Marine
Division.
After settling into our new area
we were put on outpost duty. This meant that we
were again out in the hills. The ROKs had gone
through the area a short time before and there
had evidently been quite a fight just a couple of
hundred yards from our machine gun emplacement.
This became evident when the wind was blowing
toward our position. The smell of death was
overpowering. I have read about "the sweet
smell of death". Whoever wrote that had
apparently not smelled decaying corpses. I went
on a one man recon and found the source of the
odor. There were North Korean bodies littering
the ground in this area. Their cooking utensils
and the rice balls that were their rations were
strewn about. Ammunition and grenades were still
littering the area. It was here that I saw a
soldier that had been decapitated from his
shoulders up. Quite a gruesome sight.
One of the most successful raids
in the Korean War occurred while we were at our
position in the hills. How it became known I have
no idea, but my buddies somehow found out that
there was an Apple Jack brewery in Wonsan. The
brewery was heavily guarded by Marine Corps MPs.
If there was booze around and Marines were in the
area the stuff was fair game. I was not in on the
raid, but will relate what little I know about
it. My buddies must have commandeered a jeep and
set out for the brewery. They actually held the
Marine MPs at bay with weapons. I don't know
if this was necessary since the MPs were also
part of our group. They were able to load up ten,
five gallon water cans for a total of 50 gallons
of Apple Jack. Remember the smell of apples that
I told about earlier? I guess that the apples
from the landing area were destined to be turned
into some of the best, sweetest tasting, Apple
Jack imaginable. The guys got the load back to
our area and up to our gun emplacement. That is a
very explosive blend, Apple Jack and armed
Marines. Many canteen cups of this drink were
consumed without any real injury. One guy fell
over a cliff and cut his head open. I awoke the
next morning after passing out in a field. There
was much groaning and moaning among the guys the
next day.
My fox hole mate, Lloyd Lanham,
was also a Nazarene and did not take part in our
drinking. The main difference was that Lloyd was
a good Nazarene and I tended to stray. Drinking
alcoholic beverages was not permitted in our
faith. Lloyd was a devoted Christian and always
followed the ways of our upbringing. This is very
hard to do when you are in the midst of so many
young men that follow the other path. His faith
was to save him in the month to come.
I don't know just when it was
but I will assume that it was mid-November when
we departed Wonsan to move to Hungnam. We rode
railroad flat cars with machine guns and riflemen
set up on the cars. We did receive some sniper
fire but it was not significant and didn't do
any damage. After reaching Hungnam I was assigned
to guarding supplies at the railroad yard for the
night.
The next day I rejoined my
comrades in the Division area. We were positioned
in the saddle of a fairly large hill and dug a
parapet for the gun that was probably the best
that we had ever dug. The weather was starting to
get cold and we even found some tin for a roof.
It was rumored that Chinese were in the area but
I didn't pay a lot of attention to that since
the Chinese had not officially entered the war. I
thought that it was just some sort of wild rumor
circulating. Apparently General MacArthur and his
staff also passed it off as a rumor. We were to
find out in just a few days that it was a
reality.
That first night Lloyd and I had
the midnight to four A.M. gun watch. Our relief
was quite a way down the hill and Lloyd and I
discussed who would go to wake up our relief. I
don't remember how we decided but Lloyd left
the parapet to get our relief guys up. I made a
stupid mistake that night. I left the hole that
we were in and was standing on the sky line. I
heard a noise behind me and caught the rush of
someone as I whirled. The person grabbed my rifle
sling as I whirled and I pulled on my rifle with
all of my might. The suddenness of this caught me
completely by surprise and I exhaled all of my
air in an involuntary reaction. My legs went limp
and I slumped to the ground. The rush of the
person carried him past me...thank God. I am not
ashamed to tell you that I was one scared young
Marine. When my relief came up the hill we
scouted the area but found no one.
A few days later Lloyd and I were
in the hole and we had a fire going in one of the
kerosene stoves that we had somehow appropriated.
Lloyd was on one side of the stove with me on the
other. Suddenly there was a bang and the smell of
gun powder. My first reaction was that due to our
lack of attention we had allowed someone to sneak
up and fire into the hole. There were three more
loud reports. As we exited the hole I found that
the pocket of my parka had been blown out and
that an eight round clip of M1 ammo that I
carried in that pocket had cooked off and
exploded.
I might have become the only
person in Korea to unintentionally wound himself.
I wonder if I would have received a Purple Heart.
I think not since a wound had to be inflicted by
enemy fire and I doubt that setting next to a hot
stove would qualify. It would have been fun to
tell people that "I would rather not talk
about my wound since it would be too hard to talk
about".
Word spread that the Regiments to
the North were taking casualties and volunteers
were needed to fill the ranks. I at once ran down
from the hill that we were on to volunteer. Some
of my buddies tried to talk me out of it but I
was adamant that I would go. The next day nothing
happened and I thought that my request had fallen
on deaf ears. The next day was Thanksgiving Day
and the entire Division was fed a Thanksgiving
meal. That evening word was passed to my gun crew
to prepare to go north on the following
morning.
We boarded trucks for the trip to
Hagaru-ri. As we started up through Sudong Gorge
the signs of previous battles was evident. There
were Chinese dead in the gorge. The higher the
elevation the colder it became. When we finally
reached Hagaru-ri night time was fast
approaching. That first evening I walked the
perimeter and although 15 degrees below zero I
was amazed that I didn't feel that cold. The
continual walking with all of the layers of
clothing I was wearing kept me fairly
comfortable. That was all soon to change.
The next morning we were given
our position on the perimeter. We would dig in
facing East Mountain.
Much of the fighting at Hagaru-ri took place in
that area. Soon after digging in for some
inexplicable reason we were moved to another
position on the perimeter. We would dig in on the
right of Wpns/2/7. The next couple of nights
things were pretty quiet but on the 28th of
November that changed. The regiments had been hit
hard at Yudam-ni. It
was now our turn. It must have been near midnight
when all hell broke loose as the Chinese hit our
perimeter. For some strange reason they hit the
strongest part of the perimeter. The area where
two rifle companies of 3rd Bn., 1st Marines
defended.
The battle raged for hours and at
dawn there were many dead Chinese around the
perimeter. I will not go into the battle since
this is all spelled out in books written about
the battle. We were usually on 50% alert during
the day and at night we were on 100% alert so
rest and sleep were precious.
I will never understand the
Chinese strategy of hitting the most heavily
defended areas at Chosin. If they had funneled
all of their strength at Hagaru-ri I feel certain
that we would not have been able to contain them.
Or if they had taken Koto-ri out that would have
left Yudam-ni and Hagaru-ri out to dry. I was
only a PFC in the Marine Corps and really
didn't know much about what was going on.
The strength of the various
forces in the fight at Chosin numbered 120,000
Chinese troops against 12,000 Marines and about
2,500 Army troops. We were told in Marine Boot
Camp that one Marine was responsible for taking
out 10 enemy. So as you can see the odds were
just about right. Hagaru-ri was able to hold thus
assuring that the 5th and 7th Marine Regiments
and the 7th Army Division 32nd RCT a secure area
to regroup for our fight to the sea.
The firing pin in my M1 had
snapped due to the cold so I started hanging
around the Division Hospital hoping that one of
the wounded would have a rifle that I could get.
During one of my vigils two young Marines that
apparently had been triaged and were placed
outside. The hospital was an old Korean building
that served this purpose and was a very primitive
clearing station for the more seriously wounded.
Both young Marines were still alive and one kept
calling for his momma. The other was still
fighting the battle that was soon to take their
lives. I will hear his dying words, "momma,
momma", to my dying day. I was twenty at the
time and I imagine that these two were about the
same age and maybe even younger. We did a lot of
growing up real fast..... we had to.
One day as I went to the hospital
area a new large tent had been erected next to
the hospital building. I thought that possibly a
rifle might be in this tent since it had gone up
after the 5th and 7th had fought back from
Yudam-ni. Upon entering the tent I was
momentarily blinded due to the darkness in the
tent and I had just come in from a very bright
snow packed area. After my eyes became adjusted I
was in shock. I was in the tent that had been set
up as a temporary morgue for our dead that were
to be buried at Hagaru-ri. I can't tell much
about the scene since I vacated this area
promptly.
I did secure an M2 Carbine right
after this encounter with the dead. A truck that
came in that had been attacked just outside of
town and the wounded and dead still had their
rifles. I wanted an M1 but the Carbine would have
to do until I could get an M1.
Major General Oliver Prince Smith
had the foresight to have a primitive landing
strip scraped out in the frozen ground at
Hagaru-ri. He was questioned by Tenth Corps
commanders concerning his need for a strip. His
reply to them was to fly our wounded and killed
out of Hagaru-ri. Army brass questioned this by
asking "What wounded and dead"? There
are many young men that owe their lives to this
decision by O.P. Smith. I could not tell you how
many wounded men I have talked to that were flown
out from this tiny primitive airstrip but it is
in the hundreds.
In all there were thousands that
were flown out from Hagaru-ri. Our numbers were
dwindling fast as the dead and wounded numbers
mounted. Of the 2,500 men of the 7th Army
Division they could only muster 385 after the
pounding they took east of Hagaru-ri. I will not
comment on that battle except to say that if they
had not be there and taken the full fury of the
Chinese east of Chosin, Hagaru-ri would have been
in a very difficult situation.
With all the forces from
Hagaru-ri and Yudam-ni assembled, the breakout to Koto-ri began on
December 6, 1950. The weather was bitterly cold
as it had been for weeks. We were told that we
would be running a gauntlet of fire between
Hagaru-ri and Koto-ri. My group had assembled on
the road in the early morning hours of the 6th.
From everything that I have been able to verify
we were now attached to 3rd Battalion, 7th
Marines. As is the case with many military
operations we spent hours waiting for the advance
units to break through the Chinese that had
massed against us.
The Chinese held all of the real
estate except for the road. Marines that had left
the confines of Hagaru-ri earlier were fighting
to secure the high ground and to clear enemy road
blocks. While waiting one of our Gunny Sgts
(Gotczke) was hit in the calf of his leg and was
evacuated on one, if not the last, evacuation
plane to lift off from our primitive airfield. I
felt bad for him but would have traded places
with him if I had known what lay ahead. That is
probably not really true since I was about to
embark on a life changing trip through a
"Frozen Hell".
We departed Hagaru-ri as night
approached. As I was standing waiting for the
column to start moving I saw something that I at
first didn't recognize. There is no way that
I can fully explain what it looked like. There
were frozen, mashed flat Chinese laying in the
road. They apparently had been run over by our
tanks and truck traffic. I will never forget the
sight. I never mentioned this to anyone since I
thought that I would not be believed. One day
recently a friend of mine, Joe Koliha, 5th
Marines, asked me if I had seen the bodies of the
smashed Chinese. This validated what I had seen.
I had locked that away in my memory thinking that
maybe I had imagined it. I had not. The cold at
Chosin, ranging to as low as 40 degrees below
zero could make your mind play tricks on you. In
addition we were frozen, hungry and
exhausted.
My gun squad was sent out on the
west (right) flank of the road. It was fairly
tough going since we had to break through the
accumulated snow. At one juncture we found a
single set of footprints going into or out of a
small stand of scrub. We searched the area but
found nothing. As I look back we were fortunate
that we were sent out to the west since the
Chinese hit us from the east.
I had fallen into a deep sleep
before we were hit. Someone stepped on me waking
me up from what would have been sure death from
the cold. I still marvel that sleep comes so
easily when you are freezing to death. In any
case, John Murphy and I were standing next to a
van when we started hearing thudding noises
coming from the van. John and I both wondered
what in the devil that sound might be. It soon
became very apparent that we were under attack by
Chinese on the east side of the road. I
immediately ran to the ditch on the east side and
Murphy and Lloyd started banging away with our 30
caliber machine gun. It still amazes me that we
were all as calm as we were.
A very good friend from back in
my Parris Island days, Graydon "Red"
Landahl, had taken refuge and was asleep on top
of a truck that was loaded with gear. When the
attack began "Red" awoke with tracers
flying all around his head. Forgetting where he
was he began running and ran right off the end of
the truck. It must have been at least an eight to
ten foot drop. He hit the ground which was frozen
solid and injured himself. "Red" was
our unit comedian which made his hasty exit even
funnier.
The attack was at night and must
have started around 12 midnight. We had all been
up for quite some time but all weariness and
suffering from the cold now seemed to
miraculously disappear. I heard a loud groan from
the area of the gun and called to Murphy to ask
if Lloyd had been hit. He answered back that he
had been. Gene Holland apparently got on the gun
with Murphy and they kept banging away. Murphy,
Holland and myself were very good friends since
1949 back at Pendleton. I had been with some of
these guys all the way back to Parris Island back
in 1948 so our friendships were of a long
duration.
I really don't remember the
sequence of the events but I believe that Gene
was killed while on the gun with Murphy. Murphy
then was wounded very seriously. I continued to
fire from the ditch but soon ran out of M1 ammo.
I ran back to a truck on the side of the road and
encountered M/Sgt William McClung standing next
to the truck. I told him that I needed ammo and
was told that we didn't have any. I believe
that at that time Major Fred "Fearless
Freddie" Simpson ordered us to fix bayonets.
Those must be the most terrifying two words in
the English language, "Fix Bayonets". I
had removed my cartridge belt since the weight of
the belt hurt my hips. I was slender in those
days. On the cartridge belt were 10 clips of M1
ammo, my wound packet, canteen and bayonet. I
would have really like to have had the belt on my
hips at that moment in time.
A tank got through to us with
ammo and after resupplying myself I ran back to
the ditch and continued firing at the Chinese. A
short time later a grenade or mortar round hit
the truck that McClung and I had been standing
by. I was now in a very precarious position since
all of the able bodied troops had gone to the
other side of the road. I yelled to my buddies on
the other side telling them that I was caught
between them and the Chinese.
My buddies yelled back and said
to stay where I was and that they would fire over
my head. This didn't seem to be a very good
solution to cure the fix I was in so I started
crawling to my left in an attempt to get away
from the flames and light of the burning truck.
As I lay there clinging to the side of the ditch
I could actually see bullets striking the ground
just inches from my outstretched legs. I knew
that I had to make some sort of effort to remove
myself from this area so I continued to crawl and
eventually came to a severely wounded Chinese
that was in the ditch with me. I started banging
the bottoms of his shoes trying to get him to
move but to no avail...he was too badly wounded.
I finally screwed up enough courage and crawled
over him. I continued to crawl and came to a tree
that had been blown down by the blasts of
explosives from the fire fight. I had to make a
decision and with much effort I was able to rise
and make a mad dash across the road and the
relative safety of being with my comrades.
Keep in mind that the temperature
was 30 to 40 degrees below zero. We wore layers
of clothing making it extremely difficult to
move. I have read that a man loses 2 percent of
his effectiveness for each degree below zero. If
that is true we were fighting with about 30
percent efficiency and probably not at that level
since we were also hungry and exhausted.
At dawn the Chinese formed ranks
and route marched off the field of combat. Some
of my buddies began firing at them and I kept
thinking "Don't hack them off".
They were out of effective range and they
outnumbered us greatly. I'm sure that they
realized that our Naval and Marine air would have
chewed them up had they not returned to
cover.
We picked up our dead and
wounded. I helped pick Lloyd Lanham up and his
eyes were rolled back in his head. There was
frozen vomit on his parka. He had been hit under
his right shoulder with the bullet exiting out of
his neck. He had sustained shrapnel wounds in
addition to suffering extreme cold injury to his
extremities. We picked him up and loaded him on
to the back of a truck.
We had no other way of removing
our dead and wounded. We were still about 5 miles
from Koto-ri and still had to fight thru that
area that was still in Chinese hands. I would not
have given Lloyd any chance of survival. I still
believe that his great faith was what got him
out. He recovered and never lost the faith that
was to see him through this harrowing time. I
only saw Lloyd one other time. He was waiting at
the gangplank in San Diego to welcome me home one
year later.
Murphy was hit real bad. When I
got to the other side of the road I saw a Marine
down demanding that he be given his rifle.
Illuminated by the flames of the truck I
didn't recognize him and had to ask who it
was. When they said it was Murphy I couldn't
believe it. We found the bodies of M/Sgt. McClung
and Gene Holland. Cpl. Figg was gut shot and died
the next day after we reached Koto-ri. There were
others that were wounded and killed. Names that I
can remember...Flenner, Conover, and Tinkle.
. While searching the road for
our dead and wounded we came across the wounded
Chinese soldier that I had shared the ditch with.
I was asked if he was still alive and if I had
gotten medical aide for him. As I answered no to
both questions the Chinese raised his head
slightly showing that he still had some life left
in him. I was told that he would be taken care
of. He was shot by a person wielding a .45. I
know that in reading this it sounds inhumane but
it was the most humane thing that could be done.
I have often thought about him. We must have been
close to each other in age. What a tragic way for
two young men from such different cultures to
meet.
I was to learn 35 years later
that M/Sgt William McClung was awarded the Navy
Cross for his action in saving Marine wounded
that had been hit when the truck exploded. I also
found out that he was a Bataan Death March
survivor and captive of the Japanese for the
remainder of World War II. He gave his all in
defending his country and fellow Marines and I
will always honor his memory.
Lt. Charles Sullivan was also
decorated for his bravery. When five Chinese
charged the area that he was defending he stepped
out of the flames of the burning truck and heaved
his bayoneted Carbine through the chest of one of
the Chinese soldiers. The others turned and fled
in terror. "Sully" was 6'5"
and weighed about 250. He had a beautiful long
handle bar moustache and with all of the clothing
we wore he must have looked like some demon from
hell.
Many years later I was awarded
the USMC Commendation Medal with "V"
for valor at ceremonies held by the 4th Anti-Tank
Company in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. The original
commendation was either lost or misplaced causing
the long delay. Or it may have been that CWO
Parrot purposely stopped the award.
Before reaching Koto-ri we passed
through an area that is now known as Hellfire
Valley. The scene here was awful. The dead and
vehicles were still there. I saw one Marine under
a truck frozen in a sitting position with his M1
in his lap. His dead lifeless eyes were staring
down that road of death. A silent sentinel as if
guarding us as we passed.
There were also wounded Chinese.
You could tell the living from the dead by their
breath as they exhaled. They were all dispatched
in a humane way. I was told to shoot one of the
wounded but I passed on by. The officer repeated
"I said kill the SOB". The man behind
me shot him. I could not shoot a wounded man and
I have often wondered what I would have done if
the officer had demanded that I shoot him. I
probably would have shot him and it would have
destroyed me.
After reaching Koto-ri we were
fed and bedded down. I was issued a summer
sleeping bag and just about froze. All I had in
this world was what I had on my back. My sleeping
bag was destroyed when the truck burned, along
with all of my other possessions. This was true
for most of the troops. I remember seeing troops
eating their hot meals from a piece of cardboard.
That was all they had left, their weapon, ammo,
and whatever clothing they were wearing.
The next morning I was
"volunteered" for a work detail. The
detail was to help the graves registration men in
gathering the personal effects and identifying
the dead. There was a large pile of dead, frozen
in every possible grotesque position imaginable.
We would pull a body out of this pile and the
graves registration person would look for
identifying possessions. He would place
everything in a bag, place one of the dog tags
with the possessions and one would remain on the
body. We would then place the body on a stretcher
and lift it to the end of a 6X truck. Two men on
the truck bed would take the ends of the
stretcher and would bring the end up causing the
body to fall forward into the group of dead
already in the truck. This was a horrible way to
handle these dead Marines. They deserved so much
more. After the truck was loaded they would take
their cargo to the burial site on the other side
of the CP. They say that we buried 120 of them in
common graves but I will always think that there
were more than that.
I would like to say a word about
graves registration. How these men kept their
sanity is remarkable. I worked one day with them
and I still can see that awful mound of dead,
frozen Marines.
I would also like to say thanks
to the supply people. I can't imagine the
work and management skills that they had to
possess. Imagine the enormity of the problem. You
are responsible for 25,000 Marines out in the
field. They must be fed, ammo must be there for a
force that is constantly moving.
Due to the frozen ground three
large pits were scraped out of the earth. The
dead were put into the pits and bulldozers pushed
the frozen soil on top of them. Tanks then ran
over the burial ground to carry out the final act
of burial. I have often reflected on this since
my friends were in that mound of dead. Holland,
Figg, McClung and others. But after thinking
about it what better burial could there be for
men of arms killed in combat.
The next day we prepared to
leave Koto-ri for the
fight down to relative safety of Chinhung-ni. One
major problem still had to be solved. The Chinese
had blown the bridge between Koto-ri and
Chinhung-ni. I believe that there were eight
spans made very quickly in Japan. Expert
parachute riggers devised a system permitting the
aerial drop of the spans. They delivered twice
the number of spans that were needed to span the
gorge. It was a good thing that they had the
foresight to order more since some were damaged
in the drop.
The whole operation was a
miracle. The Chinese owned all of the real estate
overlooking the site but 1st Battalion, 1st
Marines took care of that by successfully driving
the Chinese off of the ridges. I have friends
that were in 1/1 and as they cleared the high
ground of Chinese they could look down from the
heights and see the column of the 1st Marine
Division just coming to the new tread way bridge
spanning the gorge. That must have been a
glorious sight to the men of 1/1. I must have
crossed the bridge at night since I can not
remember the crossing.....thank God for I have a
great fear of heights.
For years I cursed the cold that
we endured. It wasn't until recently that I
realized that our greatest ally was the cold. The
Chinese suffered unthinkable hardships.
The only injuries that I had was
cold injury to my extremities. I have often
wondered how some men came through that terrible
ordeal without injury while others paid a
horrific price. I know that my family and friends
prayed hard for me, but I am sure that my
comrades families also prayed hard for their
sons. I have always believed that it is pure
luck....either you get it or you don't so
there is no need to worry about it. In the case
of Lanham, Murphy, and Holland they were all hit
as they manned our gun. That made them perfect
targets for Chinese gunners. McClung willingly
gave his life to save our wounded.
We reached Hungnam and safety on
about December the 12th. There was a swagger
among the troops. They knew that they had
survived a terrible ordeal. Many of the events
leading up to our departure from Hungnam are a blur in my mind.
I think that we were so tired and traumatized
that all thought process must have stopped. Other
friends tell me that they also experienced loss
of memory until we reached Masan.
I boarded the USS Bayfield for
the trip to Pusan. I have no memory of these
events until we reached Masan for rest and to
lick our wounds. New replacements came in and
after a few days we were again in combat around
Pohang.
I still had eleven months to go
in Korea but the worst "Hell" that
anyone could imagine was behind us. I am
extremely proud of the 1st Marine Division. I
don't think that a there has been a finer
group of Marines to ever wear the Globe and
Anchor.
We, the Chosin Veterans, have a
saying that sums it up. "Once upon a time
Hell froze over and we were there".
My son is named Gene Holland
Sharp in honor of my friend....Francis Eugene
(Gene) Holland, KIA.
Time has dimmed my memory but as
bet I can remember my squad consisted of:
Sgt.Herb Franking, Los Angeles,
Ca.
PFC Gene Holland, Los Angeles, Ca. Killed in
Action 12/6/50
PFC Lloyd Lanham, Riverside, Ca. Wounded in
Action 12/6/50
PFC John Murphy, Livermore, Ca. Wounded in Action
12/6/50
PFC Richard Sharp, Whiting, In.
PFC Jim Aubry, Baltimore, Md.
Shortly after arriving at Masan a
friend, Tom Fortson and I celebrated our 21st
birthdays on December 24th, 1950. Tommy was from
Red Bluff, Ca. and was born on December 25, 1929.
My birth was on December 23, 1929 in Whiting, In.
We had received our beer ration of two cans of
Pabst Blue Ribbon, or we had saved back two cans
each from our ration. To celebrate we both took
our two cans and hunkered down next to one of the
buildings that Division had taken over for
Headquarters. We both drank and toasted each
other. We were now officially men. Tommy will
still not drink a Pabst but I enjoy it, or would
if I still drank.
I also had a shock at Masan when
I found that I had secured a bad case of body
lice. The little buggers were entrenched all over
my body. Every seam of clothing was a breeding
ground for the next wave. I immediately took my
helmet outside and built a fire under it and
boiled all of my clothing. We were also issued
cans of DDT to dust ourselves with. I also got
lice later in the war and used the same procedure
to rid myself of these pesky unwanted pest. When
we were rotated home the last process was to be
showered, deloused and dewormed. More DDT was
shot into all of the openings in our clothing
while we were wearing the clothing. It is small
wonder that we all haven't had cancer from
all of the DDT that we were subjected to. I did
have bladder cancer about 16 years ago.....who
knows what might have caused it.
It was also at Masan that I had
the unique experience of sharing a four-holer
with a very famous person. For those that
don't know what four-holers are, it is an
outdoor privy that can accommodate four people at
one time.Two facing in one direction and two
facing in the other direction. Since we were in a
rest area they enclosed the privy with a pyramid
tent.
Upon entering there was only one
other person using the facility. I sat down next
to him and noticed that he wore Naval Officers
insignia. I told him that this was the enlisted
mens four-holer and that just a few yards away
was the location of the officers accommodations.
He informed me that he was filming a documentary
for the Navy and that he was Admiral John Ford
(USN Reserve). At the time the name did not mean
a thing to me. I was to find out years later that
he was the famous movie producer/director John
Ford. I now have a copy of that film. He omitted
the sequence from the four-holer in the final
production.
I departed Korea aboard the USS
Lenawee sometime in the middle of November, 1951
and arrived in San Diego on about December 1.
After a 45 day leave I returned to Camp Pendleton
and was discharged on 23 February 1952. As I left
the barracks, with my friends yelling goodbye to
me I was glad that all they could see was my
back. Marines don't cry.... or do they?
For my service in Korea I was
awarded the following:
USMC Commendation Medal with
"V" (for Valor at Chosin)
United States Presidential Unit Citation with 2
bronze stars (3 awards)
Korean Presidential Citation with Oak Leaf
Cluster (2 awards)
Korean Service Medal with 1 silver and 1 bronze
star (6 awards)
USMC Good Conduct Medal
United Nations Service Medal
National Defense Medal
Korean War Service Medal
Korean War Veterans Medal
I returned to the steel mills in
East Chicago, In. and after a few months I left
for college at Southeastern Louisiana College
located in Hammond, La. There I met and married
the prettiest girl on campus...and that is the
truth. We, Janet Bozeman and I, eloped to
Magnolia, Mississippi on December the 13th after
a whirlwind courtship that lasted for one month
and 17 days. I asked her to marry me the first
time we met, and she said yes. Everyone said that
it would not last.
We will soon celebrate our 47th
anniversary. We have 3 children, 6 living
grandchildren and 1 deceased. We will soon have
our first Great-Grandchild. We may beat the odds
and make it to our 50th and hopefully beyond.
I would not trade my experiences
for anything. I have the honor of being the past
President of the Oklahoma Chapter of the Chosin
Few. It is a great honor for me to have walked
with the heroes from that epic struggle at
Chosin. I don't believe that a finer, more
courageous group of men will ever come this way
again. They were all truly heroes and I was
blessed to be with them.
My early dreams of being a Marine
had come true. In addition, I wanted to be in the
1st Marine Division since my cousin Carrol
Hoffman was with A/1/7 during WWII. That too came
to pass. I was afforded the opportunity and the
privilege of being one of the best... and one of
The Few.
After the presentation of the
Commendation Medal my eldest grandson asked if I
would do it again. My reply was, "Yes Dylan,
in a heartbeat".
In closing I would like to utter
those famous words that all true Marines live and
die by: "Semper Fidelis......Always
Faithful".
Richard H. Sharp (aka "Notso
Sharp")
United States Marine Corps
1st Marine Division FMF
24 February 1948...23 February 1952
