The Graybeards - KWVA - Korean War Veterans Association

KOREA from page 31
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At 6:45 I and one other soldier moved
out still further in front of the squad, which
was now the most advanced part of the
company, in search of firewood. Daylight
was still about an hour away. We could just
barely see a large barn-like structure up
ahead in the darkness. For a moment I was
reminded of my youth back home in
Pennsylvania, when I would check fox traps
before daylight before going to school.
The two of us moved in what we thought
was a good technique—leap-frogging. One
provided security while the other moved up,
then we would switch roles, being as quiet
as we could. I should probably point out
that your night vision becomes better the
longer you are exposed to the darkness.
The structure was roughly two hundred
yards to the front of my squad. Arriving
there, I found the roof to be off and wood
scattered about. We each picked up a 2 x 4
about ten feet long and finally started back
to where the squad was located. My rifle
was across my shoulder and over my neck.
Our return route was off the road in a
deep ditch that was directly in line with the
two tanks. Daylight was about to break over
the railroad track and suddenly I could see
the men in front of me all getting into the
prone position with the sergeants awakening
those who were asleep.
I automatically knew that was a sign of
bad news. I looked behind me, which was to
the right of the tunnel. What I saw was
frightening, to say the least. Using the same
ditch I was using, coming in single file,
Indian style, was a long line of Chinese soldiers.
They were moving along at a steady
pace, carrying their weapons in both hands
in front of their bodies.
My partner and I dropped the wood. I
unslung my M-l rifle from over my neck
and shoulder, placed it in my right hand,
and began running toward the squad and the
tanks. The Chinese soldiers began peeling
off, going from a file to a skirmish line, all
the while firing their rifles. The main platoon
on the tracks also started to fire at the
Chinese. At this point, as you can imagine,
the soldier I was with and I were both moving
at top speed.
Reaching the security of the tanks and
my squad, we immediately took up the fire
with them. Now, almost fifty years later, it
seems like it was a scene in a war movie.
Both sides were firing away at each other
with all those bullets whizzing over our
heads. Of course, we didn’t worry about the
bullets that sounded with a snap—they had
already passed overhead by the time you
heard them.
Mortar rounds were going both ways
and exploding everywhere. Then came the
salvo of our artillery swishing overhead,
landing a couple hundred yards in front of
us upon the advancing enemy with a
ground-shaking punctuation of the battle in
progress.
The enemy was temporarily halted.
Actually, I think they were just waiting for
their men to move up to the front. Like
always, there never seemed to be a shortage
of Chinese soldiers. They were like ants
running all over the place in what appeared
to be organized confusion.
As soon as the shooting began, the
refugees had all dived for cover. They were
screaming and crying and all trying to stay
alive. I am sure some of them had to be
wounded. A second assault by the enemy
did not dislodge us from the railroad
tracks—we held again.
Support artillery was now just falling a
few yards to our front with a short round or
two falling on and to the rear of our positions.
PFC Goodrow, with the mortar squad
in position between the two railroad tracks
in a low place, was the recipient of a short
artillery round that fell to our rear. The
explosion knocked him flat on his back.
Lucky for him he was not injured.
All the tanks in the vicinity—maybe five
in all—began zeroing in on the tunnel, the
road near the tunnel, and the small hill in
front of us and to the right.
The tanks by this time were firing everything
in their arsenal of ammo, including
white phosphorus, in an attempt to slow the
tide of the advancing enemy who were like
ants, scurrying everywhere.
Let me say a word about not only this
particular combat engagement but what
applies to all combat. You are scared, and
everyone else is scared—no one wants to
die. However, you soon overcome the fear,
and in seconds you assess the situation and
take the necessary action to preserve your
own life ~ as well as the lives of those you
are responsible for.
It is times such as these that bonds are
made among the men in the infantry that are
like no other bonds and they last for a lifetime.
Your religious faith is strengthened
time and time again. You pray to God that
you might live to see your family and the
land of your birth again. Why then do some
perish upon the field of battle while others
don’t? I don’t know. I have no answer to
that, other than to say that those who laid
down their lives did it for their comrades-inarms.
Over to the right front opposite of the
Second Platoon, a couple enemy soldiers
were attempting to place a flag on a small
hill. I could hear the platoon machine gun
firing almost constantly. We had held our
ground since daybreak—it was now around
11 a.m.
We began receiving incoming rifle fire
from both flanks and from the rear. The fire
from the rear, in my opinion, came from
enemy soldiers dressed as refugees who had
passed through the roadblocks where the
refugees were screened. They then reorganized
in the rear areas to attack our units.
What is fair in warfare, especially where
guerrilla action is being pursued? Is it better
to risk being killed by an enemy who passes
as a refugee or kill everybody who might
pose a threat to you? I am not talking about
those individuals a mile or so behind the
front lines. What about those in the front
line areas? All you can do is make the decision
who is an immediate threat to you in a
given situation, do what you hope is the
right thing, and live with it. Combat is no
bed of roses.
Eventually the word was passed down
from the company command post to break
contact with the enemy and withdraw to the
rear where several tanks, on the high
ground, were providing covering fire. That
was good news to me because my squad
was about to be over-run. If it wasn’t for the
fire- power of the two tanks that were with
my squad, we would have all been killed or
captured.
I had my squad split up and board the
two tanks as incoming fire was increasing—bullets
ricocheted off the tanks with a
zinging sound. The tanks then began backing
up the hill while firing to their front.
September – October 2006
The Graybeards