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Jack Clifton Burkett

Florence, KY-
Korean War Veteran of the United States Marine Corps

"When I had the chance to reflect on what I had just been through, I was sad and depressed to think of all the Marines that were killed in the Chosin Reservoir.  I wondered why in the hell we were in this god-forsaken land in the first place.  I was also unhappy with the thought that we had been driven back by the enemy.  At that time I would never have believed that this could happen to Marines."

- Jack C. Burkett

[The following is the result of an online interview that took place between Jack Burkett and Lynnita (Sommer) Brown in 2000.  When Jack arrived in Korea on September 15, 2000, he was a member of Weapons Co., 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines.  Weapons Company was attached to George Company.  He was transferred from Weapons Company to G-3-1 after the Chosin Reservoir campaign.]

Memoir Contents:

• Pre-Military
• Marine Corps Training
• Inchon Landing
• Chosin Reservoir Campaign
  • Heading North
  • Withdrawal South
• Limited Action
• Daily Life
• Hill 902
• Going Home
• Post-Korea
• Final Reflections

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Pre-Military

My name is Jack Clifton Burkett of Florence, Kentucky.  I was born on December 26, 1929, a son of Earl Jesse and Margaret Applegate Burkett.  My middle name is the place where I was born.  It was then a part of Newport, Kentucky.  It has since been incorporated into the city.  My parents' ancestors came to the United States in the early years of the country's history. Several were soldiers in the Revolutionary War. Several were also Civil War veterans on both sides of the family. My ancestors were Irish, German, French and English, and most immigrated here before the 1800's . They settled in many states, but primarily in Pennsylvania and Ohio. I have extensive genealogical records of the family.

My father had five children by a prior marriage, all now deceased.  They lived with us when my father was alive, but I was much younger.  They were all married before I had the opportunity to interact with them.  They all went their own way after my father's death but we kept in touch as much as possible.  Only two lived near us.  The others moved out of state.  I have siblings Earl Joseph Burkett, who was born October 15, 1928 and is older than me, and a younger sister Juanita Spears Burkett, who was born July 22, 1931.  She is now deceased.    Most of our childhood years were spent in Covington, Kentucky, where we grew up.  We never moved out of the State of Kentucky when I was growing up.  I was an average kid--mischievous, but never got into any serious trouble.

My father was an ophthalmologist. He worked for Kline Optometry in Cincinnati, Ohio. We were well off at the beginning of the Depression because my father was a professional with a good paying job.  However, he died when I was six years old in the heart of the Depression (1936) and after his death we found life very difficult. My mother was a 24-year old woman left with three children and no income.  There was no such thing as welfare then so we struggled to survive after his death.  We were poor and we knew it.  We ended up in an orphanage until World War II started.  In the orphanage during the Depression, we lived on beans and rice.

I was very close to my mother, my father having died when I was young. She remarried when I was 10 years old to a man named Newell Garrison. I did not like him and we eventually had a falling out. My mother divorced him when I was 16 years old.  During World War II, she went to work in a defense plant, making Jeep headlights.  My mother is now deceased.

I went to St. Aloysius parochial grade school in Covington, Kentucky (it no longer exists), and then to Holmes High School, also in Covington.  I liked school, but did not do as well as I could have. I just wanted to play football (varsity running back), and I ran track (regional champion at the mile run). I never became serious about education until I went back to school on the GI bill after leaving the Marine Corps.

I was 11 years old when World War II started, but I can remember where I was when I heard about it.  A newsboy was selling papers while I was on the way home from somewhere (I do not recall where).  My half brother, Burdett Burkett, was the oldest of my half-brothers, and he served in the Army in Europe in World War II.  He was one of the U.S. soldiers who released the Jews from the concentration camps.  He told me about this experience and other World War II experiences.  He also gave me several souvenirs that he brought home from the war, including the Nazi iron cross.  I still have this souvenir.  I worked after school as a Western Union telegraph messenger.  I delivered many telegrams to the families of World War II veterans who had been killed or wounded. It was the most difficult part of the job.  I was only 15 years old and found it difficult to deliver the news to a parent that their son had been killed in the war.  My mother worked in a defense plant during World war II. We had little, if any supervision at this time, but we still managed to stay out of trouble and fix our own meals. Our school was involved in many war activities such as collecting metal and paper for the war effort. I do not recall any world war II veterans or recruiters coming to our school, but they probably did. Many war casualties occurred in the families of neighbors. One family (Durkees) lost five sons during this war. Several I knew personally were among those for whom I delivered the telegram from the war department while working as a Western Union messenger.  The city of Covington Kentucky celebrated the end of the war in a big way as did everyone. I was 15 years old and I have never seen so many happy people in one place.

My mother had limited means and I felt that I was a financial burden.  I loved her dearly, but I decided to join the Marines in order to relieve her of that burden.  I joined on January 12, 1949.  In retrospect, I doubt if she would have agreed with that conclusion.  I had not completed high school at the time.  (I made up for that after my discharge.)  My mother did not know that I had joined the Marine Corps until after I had done so.  I do not know if she would have objected, but I doubt if she would have been happy about it.

I had no full time job before entering the Marine Corps, although I had many after school jobs, including the Western Union messenger job I discussed previously.  I chose the Marine Corps because of the respect the Marines were given during World War II and its reputation as a proud organization. My respect for the Marine Corps came from many sources, including one former Marine and friend of the family who was a Purple Heart veteran, having been wounded on Iwo Jima.  We all had heard about the Marines from the stories of World War II.  My high school friend Donald Black joined with me for the same reason.  Donald Black was a member of my recruit platoon number 10 at Parris Island.  He was assigned to embassy duty in Washington, DC.  He never served in Korea.  He was the only member of that platoon from my home town.  He is now deceased.

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Marine Corps Training

Donald and I traveled to Parris Island by train.  Parris Island is a sandy island on the coast of South Carolina.  Swamps surround it and the only way off is the main road.  This is probably the reason that not many recruits tried to go AOL.  When we arrived at boot camp, I was told to double time.  I walked faster, but that was not good enough.  I soon learned it meant run, and I never stopped running after that.  I was assigned to Platoon #10, 1949.  My senior DI was Staff Sergeant Brogdan from Savannah, Georgia.  He was a World War II veteran.  I also had two junior DI's, a corporal and a sergeant, but I forget their names.  I am not sure if either of them were in World War II.

Boot camp was 13 weeks of close order drill, rifle range to learn firing of the M-1, Marine Corps history, and general orders in classroom.  There was no war going on in 1949 when I joined the Marine Corps, however, the training was nevertheless intensive.  S/Sergeant Brogdan was as dedicated a Marine as I ever met.  He made sure we took our training seriously.  We were required to qualify with the M-1 rifle.  Being on the rifle range was the only "fun" I had in boot camp.  I enjoyed firing the M-1.  We were also taught to swim if we could not already do so.  We had to experience tear gas.  They put us in a building with gas masks on, then they turned on the gas and we were told to remove the masks.  It was a terrible experience, but I suppose necessary.  When they let us out, we all fell down coughing and gagging for what seemed to be an awful long time.

We were very regimented.  When the lights went on at 5:00 a.m., the DI came in screaming for us to get out of bed.  We had to field strip the bed (take off the linens) in about 15 seconds.  The meals were somewhat tasteless and included a lot of beef on toast (SOS) and other high calorie and cholesterol-high foods such as eggs and meat.  Personal hygiene was a must--shower at least daily and wash clothing by hand.  We had to hang our laundry out to dry using "tie ties."  We had free time in the evening, but most of it was spent writing letters or spit-shining shoes.  Shoes had to shine or else.  We had to clean the barracks it seemed like daily.  If dirt was found, we had to brush sand out of the floor cracks with toothbrushes.  Windows had to sparkle.  When we were to be inspected, we had what was called a field day.

I don't recall ever being awakened in the middle of the night by a DI very often.  But if they did wake us, it was usually for no reason that was explained to us.  Those who goofed up in close order drill were screamed at and embarrassed as not knowing the left foot from the right.  We often had to stand at attention with sand fleas crawling on us while some other individual was being disciplined.   If someone made the mistake of  slapping a sand flea, we were harassed and humiliated. We had to attend its "funeral".  As a platoon we had to bury any fleas killed by digging a hole six feet deep.  These sand fleas caused us all kinds of grief, but coping with them taught us discipline.

I was never struck by a DI, but I was required to do pushups.  On one occasion I had to open the breach of the M-1 with my nose because it was closed when it was supposed to be open.  We were all disciplined for being too slow to follow orders, making mistakes in close order drill, etc., but I cannot recall being singled out for any more serious matters other than those mentioned.  The usual routine was to stand at attention, then we were told to go back to the platoon.  Halfway there we were told to come back.  This was repeated.  When the discipline was a collective-type, it was done to impress upon the platoon that if one individual goofed up, it could affect the lives of all members.  We did not have any troublemakers in our platoon as I recall.  We had money stolen the night before we left boot camp by another recruit, but the individual was never identified.  I do not recall that any member of our platoon failed to make it out of boot camp.

There were times during boot camp that I was sorry I ever joined the Marines.  I could not believe I could have been so stupid as to volunteer for this kind of punishment.  Today I recognize it as one of the great experiences in my life.  I had a lot of respect for our senior DI.  He was a proud Marine and a patriotic American.  It did not seem to be as hard to take the disciplinary training from such a person.  Later in life I could see the reason for much of the training and realized the effect it had on my life.  This was especially true in Korea.  When boot camp was completed, we all signed our platoon picture on the back and took addresses so that we could keep in touch.  The DI's were friendly on the last day, and we came to realize that they were human.

For me personally, the hardest thing about boot camp had been missing my girlfriend and KP duty, but upon graduation, I was proud to be a Marine.  This was especially true when I met my friends back home.  I was proud that I had stood up to the rigors of boot camp and survived it.  I was in better physical condition and more aware of the world around me.  I knew what those who preceded me had gone through, especially those in World War II.  I felt more mature and sure of myself.  I was proud to be a member of such an elite organization.

After boot camp we all had a 30-day leave.  I socialized with my friends and high school classmates.  I wore my uniform most of the time.  My mother and sister told me how proud they were of me.  After the leave was over, I was assigned to an anti-tank assault platoon with the Sixth Marines at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.  I went there on a Greyhound bus.  Nothing eventful happened on the trip other than having to say goodbye to my family and girlfriend again.

I was assigned to an anti-tank assault platoon in the Sixth Marines at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina for infantry training at Camp Lejeune and Little Creek, Virginia, where we made amphibious landings.  We also made amphibious landings in Malta.  This was while on duty in the Mediterranean Sea.  Our platoon was in the Mediterranean in the Spring of 1950.  This trip was worth a fortune to me.  I will always remember all of the historical places visited which I could never have experienced otherwise.  We visited Rome and went through all the famous and historical places, as well as many other cities and countries along the Mediterranean Sea.

My time in the Marine Corps other than in Korea was what could be expected in military life.  We had our general's inspection, in which we spent days on end cleaning and scrubbing the barracks, shining our shoes, and all the other things required to exhibit a perfect appearance for the inspection.  Then, ironically, most of the time the general never even looked at all the preparation we made.  This part of the Marine Corps I could have done without.

This training lasted from April of 1949 to June of 1950, during which time I learned the use of various assault weapons such as flamethrowers and anti-tank weapons.  I also learned the use of LSTs for amphibious assault landings.  I was a flamethrower at this time.  (For me personally, the biggest challenge of infantry training was the fact that a flamethrower fully loaded was heavy.  Trying to maneuver it into the right position was difficult.)  We were taught how to use it most effectively by assaulting fictitious defenses.  Our instructors were non-commissioned officers who were our platoon leaders and unit leaders.  Infantry training involved hands-on training with the actual use of the weapons we carried.  We were required to know and understand all of the nomenclature of the weapons and their specifications.  There were no formal tests given.  We had liberty in the evenings and weekends during this period of training.  However, few of us had automobiles and there was nowhere to go.  In my time off, I used the gym and did some fishing near the base.

In May of 1950 I was made an instructor on the pistol range.  My duty as a coach was enjoyable.  This was excellent duty with open gate liberty except for the few hours a day we had to instruct others on how to fire the .45 caliber pistol.  I liked learning all I could about weapons and becoming an expert in the use of them, which this situation afforded.  Unfortunately, most military bases are miles from any large cities where we could go for entertainment or recreation.  Very few of us had cars.  This resulted in our main recreation being drinking beer at the slop shoot (bar) or in the bars of the small towns around the base such as Jacksonville, North Carolina (Camp Lejeune).  Unfortunately this super duty was interrupted by the Korean War, for which we began training shortly after I was made an instructor.  We did not receive any cold weather training, which was unfortunate considering what was soon to take place in North Korea.

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Inchon Landing

When the Korean War broke out, the only thing I knew about Korea at that time was that it was located in the Orient.  I had a strong suspicion that we might become involved, but I did not think about being sent to Korea because I knew that if they intended to send me, it was not open to debate.  I had a girlfriend and we had planned to get married when I was discharged, but my time in the Marine Corps was extended by nine months due to the Korean War.  My plans for post-Marine Corps life were to go to college on the GI Bill.

I was an unmarried private first class when I got orders for overseas.  The only personal effects I had were what the Marine Corps had provided me with.  My mother flew to San Diego to see me before I left.  It was difficult saying goodbye to her under those circumstances.

We left from San Diego for Japan in August of 1950.  The name of the ship that we sailed on to Japan was the Simon Buckner.  I believe that this ship was a troop transport.  It was a large ship and could carry many passengers.  As best as I can recall, those on the ship were Marines.  I do not believe this ship carried any cargo; however, it could have carried military supplies.

Because I had made the Mediterranean cruise, as well as participated in several amphibious training maneuvers, I had, for the most part, my sea legs by the time we made this crossing to Japan.  I did not get sick, but I was somewhat queasy.  I do not recall having any problems coping with those who were sick.  The entire platoon of which I was a member while in the Sixth Marines at Camp Lejeune was sent to Korea as a body, therefore I knew many of my fellow Marines.

I do not recall having any particularly rough weather on this trip.  We went directly to Japan, then later to Korea on LSTs.  To the best of my recollection, it took approximately fourteen days to go to Japan.  I do not recall any organized entertainment on the ship, but there were several people who could play the guitar.  We got together informally to listen to country and western songs played on the guitar.  The only thing I recall "eventful" about the trip was crossing the international dateline.  I do not know why this was considered important, but apparently most of us thought it was.

I believe we went to Japan for several reasons, including preparation for the Inchon Landing.  We stayed at Camp Otsu in southern Japan and every day we went on long, forced marches.  We stayed at this camp for approximately two weeks before boarding the landing ships to go to Korea.  To my knowledge these ships did not have any particular name.  They had a number following LST (which stands for landing ship tank).

When I arrived in Korea (the Inchon Landing on September 15, 1950), I was a member of Weapons Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines.  Weapons Company was attached to George Company.  Once we got to Inchon, we spent several hours watching the strafing and the bombing of the invasion area from the deck of the ship.  We were briefed on what was going to take place just up ahead.  The naval ships in the area all had big guns.  I do not know if any were battleships--most of them were probably cruisers and destroyers.  There were a lot of landing ships in the area. My rough estimate is that there were at least a hundred ships near the harbor.  It was an awesome display of firepower as we watched the shelling of the hills surrounding Inchon.  We could hear the explosions of the large naval guns and the strafing of the fighter planes.  I saw many of those fighter planes strafing the hills.  Many were also carrying bombs.

The tide did not create a problem for us because we were fortunate to land when the tide was at a favorable level.  Our platoon was in one of the early waves, however I do not recall specifically which wave.  Our unit met only sporadic resistance during the landing itself.  Most of the Marines were crawling under barbed wire and advancing toward the high ground when we landed at approximately 5 p.m. on a cloudy day.  My platoon had no casualties during the landing itself, although I recall a Marine near me who was killed when he dragged his own rifle on the ground.  I thought to myself what a terrible way to die.  This was the first time I had ever seen a person die.  I will always remember the way he flopped like a beheaded chicken.  What apparently happened was that he was attempting to crawl up the beach and somehow his rifle, instead of being out in front of him or on his shoulder, ended up beneath him.  In dragging it or crawling over it, the trigger was pulled.  I know he was killed with his own rifle.  In my opinion, that is the most likely scenario of what happened to him that day.

I was not a seasoned combat veteran at this time.  The few others that were had served in World War II.  I was scared of what lay ahead.  Fortunately Inchon was not a campaign involving high casualties, but this fear was well-founded as evidenced by the battle at the Chosin Reservoir which happened several weeks later.  After landing at Inchon, several of my platoon and I spent the entire night crawling through a field which was probably a rice paddy.  I remember that we took some captives who were hiding in the homes of civilians, but my most vivid memories of the landing at Inchon are of watching the shelling and bombing that took place before we landed.  I also recall the next morning, when I realized that we had survived to that point.  I do not have any particular memories of the city of Inchon itself.

We moved along the road to Seoul.  For the most part we rode in trucks.  I do not recall how far we moved the first day.  We began to encounter more resistance from the enemy as we approached Seoul.  We were required to advance through the rice paddies to flush out enemy soldiers who were hiding in them.  We had as our goal the capture of the capitol city of Seoul, traveling by truck when feasible and on foot about half of the time.  We faced the greatest resistance prior to the capitol itself in a suburb called Yong Dong Po.  The enemy was heavily entrenched along the levees surrounding this suburb.  Our goal was to drive the enemy from these entrenchments.  The fighting was intense--both daytime and nighttime, but mostly at night.  Sniper fire was a serious problem as we moved into the more populous areas.  We suffered a lot of casualties because of sniper fire.

Never having been involved in the horrors of war before, this was a frightening experience.  No one knows what it is like to wonder if he or she is going to be one of the casualties until that person is actually faced with this concept.  It was assuring to know that many of our leaders had experience during World War II.  The more experienced Marines set excellent examples for the inexperienced.  I do not believe that we had more than three or four old salts in the sense of having served in World War II.  They were mostly NCOs and all set excellent examples for the younger Marines that were experiencing the frightening aspects of war for the first time.  Many of the reserves who were called into active service were World War II vets.  Some of our best leaders had been in World War II.  Many distinguished themselves, but there were too many to single out individually.

The North Koreans, as well as the Chinese who entered the war later, almost always attacked at night.  Our defense was that one person was always awake.  If the one on alert fell asleep, we were in great danger.  Near Seoul, four Marines were killed in the same foxhole because this happened.  The battalion commander marched all of us past them to look at their dead bodies to show us what could happen if we failed to stay alert.  On occasion we stretched wires with tin cans on them to hear the enemy if they bumped them.

We moved swiftly from Inchon to the outskirts of Seoul.  As already mentioned, it was not until Yong Dong Po that we became engaged in major action against the North Koreans.  Until then we overran the enemy for the most part, and spent most of our time searching the rice paddies for those who were hiding from us.  Many enemy soldiers changed into white robes and tried to blend in with the civilians.  Those hiding in the rice paddies jumped and ran when we got close.  It reminded me of a rabbit hunt.  This was my first experience with killing a human being.  I was not proud of doing so, but we had no choice.

I vividly recall that in Yong Dong Po, Lieutenant Sweeney asked for volunteers from our platoon to knock out a machine gun nest that was holding up our advance.  Several in our platoon immediately jumped up and volunteered, including me, but he took the first four in line.  Lieutenant Sweeney picked them because they were closest.  They managed to knock out the machine gun, but all four were killed in the fight.  I should remember their names, but after 50 years I cannot do so.   I will, however, never forget their images.  The four Marines killed had left California in our platoon and we associated every day.  Like a lot of other situations, it could have been me. We were friends and I will always remember the occasion.

We overran the enemy positions at Yong Dong Po and were sent out to find any enemy soldiers hiding in the area.  Some tried to run when we found them.  Those we had to shoot.  I killed several of them, but knew they were soldiers, not civilians.  I found one hiding under a white sheet.  When I turned the sheet over, he stared up at me in mortal fear.  I did not shoot him.  To my knowledge, I never shot a civilian.  As I said, it bothered me to kill another human and to this day I regret that I had to do so.  I do not, however, believe that I am emotionally scarred by it.

There were many civilians.  For the most part, they were smart enough to stay away from the heavy fighting.  The children looked frightened, but I did not see any of them hurt.  Many civilians tried to stay in their homes and out of sight.  They all wore white robes and carried their belongings on their back using back packs.  I was amazed at the load they could carry, even the elderly.  When they stopped, they always squatted on the ground with the load resting on the ground.  They were very flexible and appeared very comfortable in this squatted position.  It made me think that none had ever sat in a chair.

To me, one of the saddest experiences that I can ever recall was seeing the refugees.  I remember the day that I saw an old man sitting on the curb of a street in apparent shock as bullets ricocheted all around him. He was so old I do not think he knew what was going on.  Even though the bullets were flying all around him, he never flinched.  He was still sitting there when I was required to move on, so I do not know if he survived.  On another occasion I recall an old man who had been shot in the arm.  I watched the Corpsman amputate his arm as he sat there in a stupor.  Fortunately, the Corpsman was able to inject morphine before amputating the arm.  I will never forget the sound of the crunching of the bones as the amputation took place.

After these 56 years, I do not recall the specifics of the road to Seoul.  I do not recall any continuous fighting during this phase of the war.  I would describe most of it as average intensity.  Again, most of the fighting was at night.  The North Koreans made excellent daytime targets for our fighter planes.  They had little, if any, aircraft as far as I recall.  We had almost total air superiority.  Their technique was to sneak up to our lines at night and try to overrun a weak spot and create confusion.  They hoped that we would break and run like the Army units in the early months of the war.  As far as I recall, we never did.  The North Koreans used snipers a lot.  Because we were more exposed than they were, we made good targets.  Also, because of our superior firepower, this was a more effective method for them.  As I said, we lost a lot of Marines to snipers.

Like many of my friends, I saw for the first time the wholesale carnage that a war brings.  One of my most vivid memories was that of seeing our tanks going up a street and running over the dead bodies of the enemy.  Their arms and legs flopped as they were ran over and their bodies were smashed flat.  I would have preferred to go around them or move them to the side, but that was not done.  Tank support was always a good thing because they could get close enough to an enemy occupied area to destroy it without casualties to our troops.  They drew a lot of fire from the enemy, however, and in that sense infantry personnel near them were in great danger.

Seoul looked like the war-torn city that it was.  There were few houses or buildings that had not been destroyed.  It was in Seoul that the North Koreans made their last stand.  We had to secure every building before we could advance.  Many of them were occupied by enemy troops, so there was house-to-house fighting.  They waited until we exposed ourselves, and then opened fire. I do not remember the street or area names, but the North Koreans always seemed to be on the streets that we were attempting to secure.  We had both air and tank support, but the air support was not available at night.  Also, because the enemy could hide in the buildings, the planes were not as much help in Seoul as they were when we were fighting out in the open.

The most resistance in Seoul that I recall was the night that they counter-attacked.  We knew they were coming because we could hear the tanks clanking down the street.  I believe that most of their tanks were Russian.  They were more effective prior to the Inchon Landing than against us in Seoul, but they were effective.  Our anti-tank weapons were not as effective as they should have been.  We had bazookas and 75mm recoilless rifles, but hitting the target was not easy.  The 3.5 rocke4t launcher was more effective, but accuracy was a major problem with all of our anti-tank weapons.  Of course, with such weapons, the closer one was to the target, the greater the accuracy.

I carried a bazooka for a time, including in the battle for Seoul, so I am well aware of what anti-tank weapons were capable of.  I was on a roadblock set up on the street.  It was made of sandbags and was about four feet high.  When the enemy counter-attacked, their first tank was less than 50 yards away from us.  The first tank fired at the roadblock and we could hardly see due to the sand flying all around us.  The enemy soldiers were following behind the tanks.  We knew we had to knock out the first tank because the street was too narrow for those following to get around it.  A lieutenant by the name of Savage stood up and, in spite of heavy machine gun fire, he was able to fire a bazooka that managed to knock out the first tank.  That stopped the counter-attack.  Had the enemy been successful, I would probably have been a casualty.  Lieutenant Savage lived through this counter-attack and was awarded a Silver Star.  I lost track of him after that and do not know if he survived the war.

I was never wounded.  The platoon had about 60 people in it when we left Camp Lejeune.  Only a few (two, in talking to other members later) did not receive a Purple Heart.  I was one of the lucky ones.  Our platoon took maybe 10 or 12 casualties in Seoul.  Unfortunately I cannot recall their names.  One was Greek.  His parents had just came to America a few years prior to the Korean War.

After the capture of Seoul, I saw South Korean soldiers line up civilian communist sympathizers.  They stood them next to a trench that they had forced them to dig.  Then they shot them and tossed them into the trench.

I understand that MacArthur had a celebration after Seoul was reclaimed, but he never got very close to the actual fighting.  The newspaper reporter Margaret Higgins came into the area we were in, which I believe was an old brewery.  We were using it as a field hospital.  She talked to us for a good while.  One Marine that did not know she was there was cussing up a storm, but she did not seem to get rattled by it.  She was a gutsy lady.  She was the only American woman I ever saw in Korea.

After the capture of Seoul, we thought it was just a matter of time before we could go home.  We moved into North Korea and had the North Korean army in full retreat.  We took many prisoners.  By this time they were surrendering en masse.  Most of the prisoners I saw were very frightened and quiet.  I do not personally recall any that were belligerent, but I heard that some were.  On occasion I had to take some of them back to the rear where they were being held.  I remember one group in which one of them was so badly injured that he could hardly walk.  I directed several of them to carry him.  Even though this was the enemy, I saw no reason to be inhumane.

I do not remember any Korean Marines as such.  There may have been, but I do not recall seeing them in action.  The ROK forces (army) were a poor fighting force.  For the most part they expected us to do most of the fighting for them.  They were a poorly disciplined group, probably because of poor leadership.

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Chosin Reservoir Campaign

The most I had ever known about war while in the States was what I had seen in the movies.  In the weeks after landing in Korea, I learned that the real thing was certainly a horrible experience.  While north of Seoul, we received orders to return to Inchon.  We had no casualties during this return.  We rested at Inchon before leaving by ship for a port city on the east coast of Korea to make an amphibious landing.  The enemy was retreating so rapidly that the town was under United Nations control by then.

The trip from Inchon to Wonsan, North Korea, took approximately a week, I think.  I believe it was a Japanese boat that the United Nations leased from Japan for that purpose.  I do not recall the name.  (I do not believe I ever knew.)  It was not a fancy troop ship by any means.  It was old and definitely not a war ship.  I believe we heard that it was a large fishing boat.  The crew all spoke Japanese, so we were not able to understand them.

Since this was to be a large-scale invasion, there were many ships in the convoy, but I have no idea of the number.  The fact that there were not enough U.S. Navy ships available indicates that there were any ships there.  I did not give this much thought at the time.  We had our minds on the mission we were on and how dangerous it would be.

We were delayed from landing for many days.  Some of us read books or magazines if any were available.  Other than that, we just sat around and gabbed.  I think we had a few who played the harmonica or guitar, but I am not certain.  As best as I recall, we did hit some rough weather, but none that was serious.  I know it was a relief to get off of that scow.  It was cramped and miserable, and for those prone to seasickness it was much more miserable.  The mess hall served the worst food I ever ate.  Because we were delayed, we ran out of food and ended up eating potato-peeling soup.

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Heading North

When we finally landed on October 26, 1950, we walked ashore without opposition.  Other units (I think they were Republic of Korea or ROK troops) had secured the area before we got there.  The North Koreans were in full retreat.  Our unit did not go directly to the reservoir area.  We first moved from the Wonsan area to a place called Majon-ni.  This was a strategic location for preventing the enemy's retreat north.  We took many prisoners while in this area.  Most of the enemy soldiers surrendered willingly, but we did have to fight off several attacks.  I was up in the hills where we were holding the high ground, therefore I was not close enough to observe the attitude of these enemy soldiers, who were basically rounded up on the road.  I doubt if many were belligerent.  They had been completely routed at this point and were pretty much on their own in their attempts to escape our entrapment.  The prisoners were taken to the rear by other Marines than those in our units.  I believe the MPs handled this job in general.

On November 10, 1950, I was somewhere south of the Chosin Reservoir and still with Weapons Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines.  I am not certain of the location, however, I remember that we had an excellent hot meal.  I believe we also had a birthday cake since it was the USMC birthday.

From Majon-ni we went to Koto-ri and then on to Hagaru.  Not all of the unit made it there--only about one-third of the unit reached Hagaru.  I was one of the fortunate ones that did.  We traveled primarily by truck.  I recall that around this time we traveled by train, but I don't know where we went.  We saw civilians most of the places we went and it got to where we did not pay much attention to them.  The 5th and 7th Marine regiments were further north of us, having reached Koto-ri (which was about 13 miles north of us) before we got there. It seemed like those in command (including MacArthur) refused to believe the Chinese would enter the war.  We did not get the word that the Chinese had attacked the 5th and 7th Marines until about the time we left Koto-ri to move to Hagaru to reinforce the units there.

It was considered probable that Chinese troops were in the area, but we became certain of it when we were attacked.  While moving north from Koto-ri to Hagaru, our column was ambushed by the Chinese. This battle became appropriately known as Hell Fire Valley, but the official name of this battle was called Operation Drysdale after the commanding officer, a British Royal Marine colonel.  The Royal Marines were attached to George Company and suffered many casualties at Hell fire Valley.  They were an outstanding unit and fought with considerable valor.  They were always neat and well-dressed compared to the Marines, who were not.  This is the only unit of another nationality that I was along side in Korea.

We were putting our lives on the line.  Even though we were told that if we did not stop the communist aggression in Korea it could possibly never be stopped, it was difficult to consider Korea as a country worth dying for.  At this point in time several major mistakes were made, including stretching the column too thin and failure to place the tanks more in the center than at the head of the column.  We, of course, did not expect an enemy attack of this magnitude when we left Koto-ri, this being another mistake in that we underestimated the enemy force.  At this point we did not know that we were under siege by eight Chinese Communist divisions.  We were like sitting ducks on the road.  The enemy fired at us from every direction and could hardly miss because of the fact that we were so exposed.  The brunt of the attack was in the middle of the column.  I was in about the third truck in the column, which probably saved my life or prevented me from being captured.  This is ironic in that usually those in the lead suffer the most casualties.  We had to get off of the trucks because enemy bullets were going through the canvas covers like a target range.  We used the ditches beside the road for protection as much as possible.

Leading the column were several tanks.  Being near the lead tanks gave us a tremendous advantage over people in the trucks behind us.  The tanks could fire their machine guns at the enemy and inflict great damage since they were protected by their armor.  Although this was poor strategy by those in command, it was probably the major reason I was among the few who made it to Hagaru.  Once there, I met a friend named Clarence Shaw with whom I had gone to high school with.  He was in Weapons Company, 2nd Battalion, 7th Marines but we had the opportunity to shoot the breeze on several occasions.

Another friend of mine, William Baugh, was killed in the battle of Hell Fire Valley.  On several occasions we had gone home on leave together while members of the Sixth Marines at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.  I lived in Cincinnati, he lived ten miles or so west of Cincinnati.  He was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously for his heroic action in this battle.  [KWE Note: see Medal of Honor Recipients - Korean War on the KWE to read his citation.]  Pfc. Baugh was in a truck which was several trucks behind the one in which I was riding.  The Chinese threw hand grenades into the trucks and one landed in the truck in which Pfc. Baugh was riding.  He threw his body on the grenade, which likely saved the lives of the others on that truck.  I did not know that he had been killed until the next day.  We had to harden ourselves to the death of those we knew since it seemed to be happening daily.  However, the news of his death was especially shocking because he was so well-liked by all the members of our platoon.  I thought that if it could happen to him, it could happen to any of us.  I wondered if I was next.  William Baugh was an Indiana farm boy.  He could stand in a general's inspection with a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth and no one even knew it.  We were together in the Sixth Marines at Camp Lejeune for approximately a year.   I met his parents after the war.  They lived less than 50 miles from my home.  They were plain, everyday people and very friendly and warm.  He was one of the most famous people in his hometown having won the Medal of Honor and having a ship (the USS William Baugh) named in his honor.

We were able to keep moving toward Hagaru with the tanks leading the way.  I remember it was late at night when we reached the roadblock at Hagaru.  I could look back and see the destruction that was being inflicted on most of the column behind me.  Many of the trucks were burning and ammunition in them was exploding.  Most of our equipment and vehicles were destroyed.

We reached Hagaru on November 29, 1950.  Once we reached it, we were placed on the perimeter surrounding it.  I was in the foxhole close to the road leading to Yudam-ni.  Hagaru was in a valley surrounded by high ground.  We were dug in near the southern tip of the Chosin Reservoir.  There were homes in Hagaru, but I never went into any since our purpose was to protect the perimeter from enemy attack.  We could see the engineers attempting to build an airstrip.  They had heavy equipment in the Hagaru perimeter which had been moved there before the Chinese attacked us.  Bulldozers were used to scrape out a landing field.  They worked day and night using floodlights at night.  This made them especially vulnerable to enemy small arms fire.  Because of the airstrip the engineers managed to scrape out of the frozen ground, we were able to evacuate many wounded by air.  I do not recall if any dead were evacuated by air.

Hagaru appeared to be an especially desolate village.  The cold winter weather made it appear even bleaker.  We could only escape the wind by huddling up in the corner of a foxhole.  We were under attack at various positions along the perimeter almost every night after reaching Hagaru on November 29, 1950.  They had not attacked in full force when we first arrived there.  On several occasions they broke through our defenses and into the village.  However, we were able to find them.  The company suffered the most casualties attempting to take and retain a hill to the east appropriately called East Hill.  It was a steep hill that made climbing up a difficult chore due to the mud and snow.  This was, of course, even more so when the enemy was firing at us.  It was crucial that we control this hill.  If not, we lose Hagaru, as well as the 5th and 7th Regiments attempting to retreat to Hagaru from Yudam-ni.  (The regiments at Yudam-ni were involved in hand-to-hand combat.)

East Hill was strategically located because, by controlling it, the Chinese could fire on and harass the people in the Hagaru perimeter.  If we had not controlled it, we probably would have lost Hagaru to the enemy.  This would probably have resulted in the loss of the entire division because the 5th and 7th Marines were still fighting their way out of Yudam-ni and it was crucial that they be able to reach Hagaru to reorganize.  Most of the fighting for East Hill took place at about the same time as the fighting was going on in Hell Fire Valley.

As to the strength of the enemy, I can only assume the estimates I later read about are correct.  There were said to have been about eight Chinese divisions.  Most of the enemy wore padded, quilted, cotton coats and hats that had flaps that covered their ears.  On many occasions, tennis shoes were the only protection for their feet.  I assume their suffering from the cold was much worse than what we experienced.  In fact, I do not know how they kept from freezing to death or suffering severe frostbite, which many did.  Many that were taken prisoner had the worst cases of frostbite ever seen.  Even for a hated enemy one had to feel sorry for them.

The weapons they used were a mixture of anything they could find.  The most irritating situation was finding dead Chinese with Thompson submachine guns.  These were American-made weapons being used by the enemy against us.  We had apparently given the Chinese these weapons at some prior time.  It could have been World War II or during the communist take-over, having then been lost by soldiers to Shang Kai Shek.  It is also possible that some of them were provided by the Russians, being given to the Russians by us in World War II.  Finally, it is possible that an American company sold them to China.

Even as much as we hated these enemy soldiers, one had to admire their courage.  They kept moving forward toward our defenses even into almost certain death.  I assume, however, that they would have been killed by their leaders if they had not.  Their method of fighting was almost exclusively to sneak or crawl up to our lines in the dark and hope to overrun us in the confusion.  They felt that this would terrorize us by not knowing where they were or in what number.  They were willing to sacrifice untold numbers in order to make this method of fighting successful.

The US Army troops within our perimeter at Hagaru were members of the 34th Infantry Regiment, which had advanced north on the west side of the reservoir.  They were hit hard by large units of Chinese troops and had retreated in a very disorganized manner.  Those who were lucky reached the safety of the Hagaru perimeter.  Being in a foxhole at the southern tip of the reservoir and on the main road to Yudam-ni, I witnessed many of them trying to escape the Chinese attack.  Their unit was in total disarray.  What was most amazing to witness was that, after finding their way inside our perimeter, they just milled around on the road and refused to man any of the foxholes and help in the defense of Hagaru.  I never saw any officers--or if there were officers, they were not identified as such and did nothing to motivate their subordinates.

I do not recall that we realized any benefit from tanks while at Hagaru.  In other sections of the perimeter they may have been used.  In the withdrawal from Chosin they proved very helpful in blasting enemy roadblocks or other obstructions.

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Withdrawal South

When we retreated from Hagaru, we passed the burned-out vehicles and many bodies of dead Marines.  One Marine I knew well was a Jeep driver for one of the officers.  He was sitting up in the driver's seat just where the Jeep stopped after he was shot.  He looked like he had just pulled over to the side to rest.  His body was frozen solid.  One of the trucks carried mail.  Our letters were strung out all over the area.  I wondered if any of those letters were mine.

We could only control the road by controlling the ridges running parallel to the road.  We had to leap frog from one ridge to the next.  We would hold a ridge until the column cleared, then move forward to the front.  The Chinese toppled any structures they could by dynamiting them so that they would fall across the narrow and only road.  For the most part, they stayed off the road and fired at us from high positions above the road.  They attacked those on the ridges at night.  The ridges running parallel to the road were steep and slippery.  It was a tremendous burden to climb them.  It was even a great burden just to walk under the weather conditions that existed.  This was made even worse by the ammo and other equipment that we had to pull up with us.  All of this occurred while the enemy was shooting at us.  Snipers were always a threat.  I recall walking behind a Marine who was much taller than me and was presumably taken for an officer.  He fell dead from a sniper's bullet and I fell over his body.

I was in Korea from October to the following May.  I did not see much of the summer heat.  January and February were cold, but nothing like it was in the Chosin Reservoir.  There, the weather was miserable but we were too cold to expound on the temperature.  We were just as miserable at -20 as at -30.  We could only go by what we were told since we had no way of measuring the temperature.  We heard that many nights it got as cold as -30.  I cannot recall how much wind there was, but I know that at times it seemed to cut right through our seven to eight layers of clothing.  We had a high percentage of frostbite.  The ground was covered with snow, but it did not snow all the time.  It was fairly worn down in most places, but certainly deep on the surrounding hills.  It was probably more dry and wet snow.  We had to eat the snow in order to get water since all of our canteens or water containers were frozen solid.

I do not even recall having a cold while I was in Korea, in spite of the weather conditions.  In the Chosin Reservoir we wore several layers of clothes.  Starting from the inside we had thermal underwear, next a wool shirt, next a dungaree jacket, next a wool sweater (this created an air space which held body heat), next a field jacket, and finally, a hooded parka.  We had thick mittens with a single trigger finger.  We wore shoe packs that did not do the job.  First they caused the feet to sweat and then freeze.  It was critical to keep the feet dry to avoid frostbite.  I had four or five extra pair of socks between the layers of my clothing.  Every chance I had I changed to a dry pair.  I believe this kept me from getting frostbite.  In spite of this, it was still miserably cold in the 20 to 30 degrees below zero weather we faced in Chosin.  Some people got to spend some time in tents with stoves, but I never had that opportunity.

The M-1 rifles and especially the carbines froze up on occasion.  Many of us tried to find single fire rifles rather than trust the semi-automatic ones.  The canned rations were frozen solid because it got down to 30 degrees below zero.  When we could, we all had to chop the ration cans open with a bayonet, chip off a block, and put it in our mouth until it thawed out.  The same applies to water.  Obviously all of our canteens were frozen solid.  It was eating snow to get water or do without. The one food that was most available was the Tootsie Roll.  We had our pockets filed with them.  We could bite off a part of one and hold it in our mouth until it thawed out. The biggest problem was eliminating or urinating.  It was impossible to do so without working through seven or eight layers of clothing and then risk the possibility of frostbite or freezing.  Any vehicles that were not kept running continuously would not start.  In the event that happened, they were pushed to the side so that they would not hold up the rest of the column.  Most were destroyed so that the enemy could not use them.

The spirits of the Marines were low.  We knew that there was a chance that we would never be able to break through the numerically-superior Chinese forces.  If one was lucky enough to avoid frostbite on the nose or the feet or hands by keeping active, the biggest effect of the cold was becoming lethargic and sluggish.  It was a burden to just move.  I began to doubt that I would ever escape alive.  I even envied those wounded that were being flown out to a warm hospital environment.

The weather affected air support because if the pilots could not see the enemy, they could not support us.  There were many days when this was the case.  Air support was one of the main reasons we were able to escape the entrapment.  If the enemy had had the type of air support we had, we likely would not have made it.  We received air drops of ammunition, rations, and medical supplies.  They were life saving.  Some landed outside of our perimeter and fell into enemy hands, some were damaged in the drop, and sometimes a parachute would not open.  But those supplies we managed to receive were mostly usable.

The best way for me to describe my own personal experience in the withdrawal from Chosin is to describe a particular night that stands out in my memory.  We were moving south out of Hagaru and I was sent up to the top of a hill along with 50 or so other Marines.  Our units were in no particular place by now and many were from different platoons or companies.  The officers just grabbed whoever was available.  We reached the top with about an hour or so of daylight still left.  We formed a line along the top of the ridge with a machine gun on our right flank.  There was a natural depression in the earth there.  It was an ideal place for the machine gun.

We could not dig into the frozen earth and therefore had little protection from enemy fire.  It was so cold there that it felt like our bones were going to crack like an icicle.  The cold Siberian wind blew right into our faces.  I knew we were going to be under heavy attack in a few hours.  This hill was strategic because if we lost it, the enemy could fire directly down onto the convoy on the road below.  I was so hungry my stomach ached, but I could not eat since the food was frozen and also because of my fear of dying.  I had not slept in several days, but could not sleep for thinking about what lie ahead.  It was truly one of the most miserable days of my life.  As I lay there that night amidst all those miseries, I thought to myself that maybe dying would not be that bad.  At least the misery would be over.  But then I could see the pain that this would cause my mother.  I was 20 years old and too young to die.

Shortly before midnight, I heard voices in Chinese.  One of the words I heard sounded like "chongin."  I have no idea what it means in Chinese or even if I am correct in the sound I thought I heard, but I will always remember it as that.  I began firing in the direction of the voices.  Soon all hell broke loose.  We were all firing into the darkness where we thought the enemy was.  Then the machine gun on the flank opened up.  That machine gun never stopped firing until dawn.  I kept praying that the barrel would not burn up.  The ammo carriers spent the entire night hauling ammo up to that gun.  It was located such that it could cover the entire rise at almost 90 degrees.  I could hear enemy bullets striking the ground all around me and the cries of Marines on both sides that were hit.  It was the longest night of my life.  There were many times when I felt in danger in Korea, but I felt in the most personal danger that night.  None of us were sure we would ever get out alive, but we held together and defended that ridge.

The cold weather helped us in the sense that, had the Chinese rushed our lightly manned positions when we first opened fire on them, they could have easily overran us.  However, they were as cold as we were and they were likely unable to move fast enough to charge us.  I lay there firing into the darkness for at least six hours.  All this time the machine gunner continued to sweep back and forth across the rise that they were crawling up.  Several of his assistant gunners were killed, as were several ammo carriers.  Nevertheless, in spite of the enemy fire being primarily directed at him, he was never hit.

Dawn was a beautiful sight because the Chinese always began to withdraw when it began getting light enough for us to see them.  I let out a sigh of relief, feeling that I had survived another day in that hell.  As it became light enough to see the enemy casualties, the view was awesome.  I had never seen that many dead in one place.  I doubt if many people have.  The count of the dead bodies was way up in the hundreds, my guess being at least five hundred.  We had that machine gun and its gunner to thank for our lives.

I have no idea what hill we were on and I have never since talked to any other Marine that was there.  I have never heard what the official count of enemy dead was, but that machine gunner must certainly have been among the top in enemy kills in the Korean War.  The only thing I can remember for certain was that his name was Whitehead and he was from Louisiana.  I always wanted the chance to thank him for my life, but never saw or heard from him since.  There were many heroes in the Korean War, many of whom were never recognized.  Pfc. Whitehead was one of them.

An hour or so after the sun came up, we ventured out to see if there were any living Chinese.  I could only see frozen bodies.  On one of them nearest to me, and therefore one I could have killed since he was closest to my position, I saw a pocket watch.  I took it from his body for a souvenir and I still have it today.  It has a Chinese inscription inside the front cover.  Someday I intend to have it interpreted.  On the inside of the back cover it reads, "International Dispensary Shanghai."  He may have worked for a dispensary that we had established there at some time in the past.  The back of it reads "15 Rubis-J. Ullmann & Co.-Shanghai."  Below that is another Chinese inscription.

I heard rumors of several officers that should have been on foot rather than riding in Jeeps, but no one could say too much about the leadership that we had at Chosin.  I gained an everlasting respect for the Marine officers I observed.  I never saw any of them back down from a dangerous challenge.  This was especially true of our Company Commander Captain Carl Sitter, who was awarded the Medal of Honor for his leadership in holding East Hill.  He was our CO from Inchon to the Chosin Reservoir.  Lieutenant Johnson later replaced Captain Sitter.  I never had the opportunity to evaluate Johnson during the two months I served under him.  He had distinguished himself at the Chosin Reservoir and was well-regarded.

I would select Captain Sitter as the best example of a war hero.  That is my opinion.  His leadership in the defense of Hagaru made him entitled to the Medal of Honor as much as anyone who had ever received it.  The defense of Hagaru was the most critical matter facing the First Marine Division.  Again, if it had fallen, not only would the first regiment have been annihilated, but the seventh and fifth regiments trapped north of there would also have perished.  His leadership was, in my opinion, most instrumental in the defense of that perimeter and the survival of the entire division.

After we arrived safely in Hungnam, and when I had the chance to reflect on what I had just been through, I was sad and depressed to think of all the Marines that were killed in the Chosin Reservoir.  I wondered why in the hell we were in this god-forsaken land in the first place.  I was also unhappy with the thought that we had been driven back by the enemy.  At that time I would never have believed that this could happen to Marines.  One of the most difficult things for me to accept while I was in Korea was the retreat from the Chosin Reservoir.  I did not want to be a part of the first Marine unit ever to retreat from an enemy.  From the first day of boot camp we were ingrained with the concept that we were now part of the greatest fighting force anywhere.  We were told that the Marine Corps had never lost a major battle.  After Chosin, I wondered what the people back home would think when they read that the US Marines were driven out of North Korea by the Chinese.  It was the kind of pride that was instilled in us.  I was proud to be a Marine.  I felt that, based on the way we had been trained in the proud tradition of the Marine Corps, we could never accept defeat.  This is not to imply that I saw our action as a lack of courage.  Retreating under any circumstances was just not what I thought Marines ever did.  That is what we had been told.  Today I can see the reason our leaders made the decision to retreat from the Chosin Reservoir.  We were cut off and getting little, if any, support from other UN forces and we were surrounded by overwhelming enemy troops.  Our only hope for survival was to escape the entrapment.  I realize that our leaders more battle-wise than I would ever be made the best decision under the circumstances.  This is the subject of much that has been written about the Chosin Reservoir.  This epic battle will go down in Marine Corps history as one of the greatest ever fought.  To escape from the entrapment under the most difficult weather conditions in which any battle was ever fought was in itself a great victory for us.  Many brave young men gave their lives to achieve what many analysts consider to be one of the greatest military achievements in history.  Then I was young, idealistic and proud.  I hated the enemy and could not stand to think that we were letting them push us around.  Through the years I have read about the escape from Chosin, and I am proud to be counted among those that fought so valiantly to survive there.

For its efforts in Korea, the 1st Marine Division received a Presidential Unit Citation (9/15/1950-4/25/1951), the Korean Service Medal (Inchon Landing 9/15/1950-Chosin Reservoir 11/3/1950), a Korean Presidential Unit Citation (from Inchon until rotated), and the National Defense Service Medal (same dates as prior).  I received a letter of commendation for my part in the defense of the column as it left Hagaru.

Probably most of those receiving medals deserved them.  However, there were some I would question.  I feel that it depended to some extent on who the person was and who saw the incident.  I do not say this to detract from those who really deserved to be recognized, but I often think of the ones who died heroically or performed acts which were heroic, but who were never recognized because the circumstances were never observed, or at least not by the right people.  I have talked to many at our reunions who felt they were not recognized when they should have been.  My feeling about this is that we should just be thankful to be alive.  To me, the fact that I survived while performing my duty honorably holds much more significance to me today than any formal recognition.  I did not receive any type of injury at the Chosin Reservoir.  For this I thanked the good Lord.

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Limited Action

We reached the harbor of Hungnam around the middle of December.  There was no welcome that I recall, but I was too exhausted to care.  We went aboard a ship, name unknown.  I had the first hot food that I had eaten in several weeks.  We threw away the rags we were wearing and took a hot shower.  I had never before or since enjoyed a shower like that one.  I then went to sleep for the first time in ten days (except for catnaps and sleep) for 24 straight hours.

The ship took us to southern Korea, where we went in reserve in the Masan area.  There was one incident of prostitutes being in the Masan area following the Chosin Reservoir.  We were, of course, warned of the potential for VD by having relations with the prostitutes. On Christmas Day, we had mass and sang Christmas songs in a rice paddy.  I thanked God for allowing me to be there.  The next day I celebrated my 21st birthday.  I had a few drinks and we joked that, if I was back home now, I could go into a bar and buy a drink.

I was transferred from Weapons Company to G-3-1 after the Chosin Reservoir campaign.  Apparently our unit was not involved in the guerilla hunt that took place shortly after the Chosin Reservoir campaign, or we had only minimal involvement.  The 3rd battalion, 1st Marines was in regimental reserve during Operation Killer.  I cannot personally remember any details of this campaign.  I think we were still south of the 38th parallel at this time.  During this period, since we were fortunate to be in reserve, I cannot recall anything of significance, although I am sure that there were many such events.  The first and second platoons were involved in more activity than we (third platoon) were.  We were constantly expecting to be involved.  However, when we moved toward the front, nothing materialized.  My platoon saw only limited action with the exception of Hill 902.  In that battle, which I will discuss later, I lost two good friends and my platoon sergeant received the Medal of Honor.

In general I can say that the average age of the enemy was younger than we were.  I recall many that appeared to be in their teens (15-18).  We called the North Koreans "gooks" and the Chinese "chinks."  Since they were our enemies, however, we did not think of it as racial prejudice.  I do not recall any other prejudice directed at others. They were brave fighters in that their method was to crawl up on us at night.  They did not stop even in the face of almost certain death.  We all, of course, hated the enemy and to this day I am uncomfortable around Orientals.  But one cannot help but admire their courage.  Their weapons were varied.  As I said, a lot of them were provided by the Russians.  They had rifles, automatic weapons called burp guns, and grenades called potato mashers.  Their weapons were not as effective or of the quality of ours.  This was especially true of their grenades.  They had machine guns and mortars, but not in the quantity or quality of ours.  Our strategy was always to control and defend the high ground.  On occasion we used barbed wire and booby traps to protect us from the enemy.  During the post-Chosin time period, none in my unit was ever taken prisoner of war.  We were, of course, always apprehensive of this possibility, but during this period I do not recall that this was a particular problem.

We received air, tank, and artillery support.  The air support at all times was a tremendous advantage to us.  Our fighter planes completely dominated the skies.  The enemy seldom fought in the daytime, probably due to our air superiority as well as our superior weapons and fire-power.  Another type of "air support" was in the form of helicopters.  This was the major means of transporting our wounded to medical facilities.  They were strapped to the outside of the helicopter on their stretchers.  This was used by all units to move our wounded.

As to tanks, we found that the greatest benefit from them at this time was when we were moving in the daytime and they could fire at and clear the ridges and hills on our flanks.  I do not recall them being of any benefit in night fighting.  Artillery was not directly supportive.  They found it hard to hit the enemy close to us.  Many short rounds killed Marines.  They were most effective against enemy troops organizing beyond our immediate area.  I knew several members of our weapons company that were killed during the post-Chosin period.  I have forgotten how each died, but I do remember that several were killed by our own artillery as the result of those short rounds.  The names I recall included David Mcanally from Baltimore, a PFC named Webster from Cleveland, a sergeant named Van Nostrum from Ohio who was a married reserve with a wife and three children, and a PFC named David C.J. Merrier, state of origin unknown.  I especially remember the death of PFC Merrier.  In a conversation a few days prior to his death, he made the remark, "What difference does it make if we are killed, since we all must die someday."  The irony of this has always stood out in my mind.

We were fortunate to have had only limited contact with the enemy during this post-Chosin time period.  Our casualties were light.  Most were, in my opinion, due to being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I went through all of Korea without a significant injury.  I credit this with being in the right place at the right time.  Of course, there were casualties due to stupid mistakes, such as those caused by the misuse of one's own weapon.  One that stands out in my mind is the time one Marine from our unit pulled the pin from a grenade to throw it, then saw an enemy soldier and without thinking laid the grenade down next to himself and raised his rifle to fire at the enemy.  He was, of course, killed.

The wounded and dying were cared for by Navy corpsmen.  I cannot remember the name of our corpsman after all these years, but I know we called him Doc (like most of the other corpsmen were called).  They were very skilled at saving lives under the most adverse of conditions and repeatedly exposed themselves to enemy fire.  Many died doing their job and we all had great respect for them because they had to go into areas where the most danger existed.  We had as much respect for them as any Marine.

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Daily Life in Korea

I was never out of the combat area except when we were in reserve.  The war was fought mostly on the move when I was there.  The use of bunkers began after the two forces became stalemated.  Because it seemed as if we had to dig in at a difference place every day, our entrenching tool was a very useful item.  It was handy in that it was a combination pick and shovel (and occasionally a weapon).  The ground could be broken up by turning it to a 45-degree angle as a pick, and then straight as a shovel.  The dirt could be scooped out of the hole we were digging, making it surprisingly fast if the ground was soft.  It was sometimes hard to dig in at all if the ground was frozen.  Many times we were so tired after walking all day that it was a real chore to have to dig a foxhole, but we were constantly reminded that it could save our life.

Moving from one location to another meant sometimes walking long distances.  The longest that I recall was the day we covered 13 miles.  For a BARman, as I was, this included about 50 pounds of equipment and gear.  It was especially hard when we had to climb over a high hill or mountain because on the trails it became difficult to keep our footing when they were wet from rain or snow.  It always became harder after it had been worn down by those ahead of us walking in a single file.  After falling several times--often many times, most of us were using every curse word imaginable--and some we created.

At the Chosin Reservoir, for over a month we did not bathe or shave and never changed clothes.  We did have routines we followed when we had the opportunity, such as using our helmet as a bowl to wash and clean up, this being possible when water was available such as a nearby stream.  We were provided with a powder that we put down our clothing between our body and inner clothes.  I am not sure what it was.  Other than Chosin, we bathed when possible in portable showers set up in tents.  I do not recall having the opportunity to change into clean clothes very often.  Most did not shave at all.  We had a body powder that was provided to keep parasite problems under control.  We called it de-licer powder.  I do not recall having any lice, however.

When in a combat zone, we mostly ate C-rations.  We heated these in our canteen cup when we had the opportunity.  That canteen cup was a valuable implement.  It served as a soup bowl, coffee cup, and could be used over a fire to make hot chocolate or heat rations.  Our bayonet was very useful in opening canned rations.  It was quite useful as a knife or to some extent, a hatchet.

In reserve we often had a mess tent set up and had hot meals.  I do not recall ever having eaten any of the local food.  My mother sent packages on several occasions.  She mostly sent food and some cookies and candy. The best thing I ever ate in Korea came from my mother, who sent me a box of groceries.  I was lucky enough to receive it.  It included a can of Dinty Moore beef stew.  It was the greatest meal I had other than our Thanksgiving meal flown in for Thanksgiving 1950.  That Thanksgiving meal was the last hot meal we had before engaging the Chinese forces.   I asked a friend back home to send me a cake with a pint of whiskey inside.  He always claimed he did, but I never received it.  It was about the time we were attacked by the Chinese at Hellfire Valley.  We lost a lot of mail there.  That package could have been one of the items lost.  Cheese and crackers was the food I most longed for, although I do not know why.  I avoid high cholesterol foods as much as possible, but that was the least of our concerns in Korea.  The hardest thing for me physically in Korea was the freezing weather.  That alone was enough to suffer without an enemy trying to kill you at the same time.

In our leisure time in reserve, we wrote letters. Like most, I missed my friends and family back home.  I was worried that I might never see them again.  We tried to clean up, socialized, and heated C-rations over an open fire.  We also had beer on occasion when in reserve.  Pabst Blue Ribbon is the only one I can remember.  As a result, I became a life long Blue Ribbon drinker.  I assume it was provided by supply units.  I never smoked cigarettes.  They were useful, however, for getting a fire started.  We played poker when the opportunity allowed.  I always lost.  I lost $250 one day.  That was a lot of money in those days.  All they gave us was what was called "script", but it could be exchanged for dollars when we left Korea.  Prior to Korea I never smoked or gambled.  I drank beer on occasion, but never more than socially.

There was some humor in Korea, although most of it was probably to mask the inner concern we all had about surviving.  William Baugh, who lost his life at Hell Fire Valley, was a gregarious country boy that we always joked with.  One incident he told was funny enough that I still remember it.  He said that when he was back home on the farm, he celebrated one Fourth of July by sticking firecrackers into a hog's rectum and lighting them.  It was cruel and inhumane, but still funny when he told us about it.  I was a PFC in a rifle company, so we were never accorded the privilege of seeing a USO show in Korea.  Those in the rear echelon were the only ones that had that opportunity.  Red Cross and Salvation Army personnel also stayed to the rear.

I considered Joe Caruso my best friend in Korea.  We spent a lot of time talking and philosophizing about different things.  Joe was probably more intelligent than most of the people I knew.  I wrote to many of the girls that he knew and had attended high school with.  We liked to receive letters from the girls back home.  It was something to look forward to.  He was a super nice person whom I would have made an effort to meet with someday back home.  Unfortunately, Joe was KIA on Hill 902.  We received mail regularly most of the time, although we got very little at the Chosin Reservoir.  The greatest part of any day was when the mail came, which we received every week or so, except in Chosin.  It was always addressed FPO San Francisco to hide our location in Korea, I assume.  My mother and girlfriend wrote regularly.  I wrote to the girls from Marblehead, Massachusetts whose names were given to me by Joe.  I can recall several situations where a person was notified by mail that a close relative had died.  Their reaction seemed to have been exacerbated by not having been able to have been there.

Religion was important to me in Korea.  I suppose, like most, that it was more important to me then than at other times.  As they say, there are no atheists in a foxhole.  It was important enough that I attended services when they could be arranged.  The services were usually performed by the chaplain whenever it was possible to do so.

We had opportunities to see the simple lives that the natives of Korea lived.  What I remember most was the women doing their laundry in a creek.  They beat their clothes over a rock using a stick or wooden paddle.  Some of the children followed us begging for candy.  Their consistent phrase was, "Candy, Joe."  When we tossed a tootsie roll their way, they all scrambled and wrestled for it.  Other children just stared at us as if to say, "What is happening to us?"  They seemed to be in fear of us.

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Hill 902

In April of 1951, we received orders to defend Hill 902 in order to prevent the Chinese from controlling a position from which they would have had a strategic advantage.  Whoever possessed it could control the route through which the rest of the 1st Marine Division had to pass.  Hill 902 was located in central Korea just north of the 38th parallel.  We had to race the Chinese to the top.  Everyone carried as much ammo as possible because we knew we were going to need it before long. The ascent to the top of Hill 902 started in the middle of the afternoon on April 23.  The heat and heavy load took its toll on many who struggled up this steep and treacherous mountain.  It was so steep it was difficult to keep our footing on the path.  This was compounded by the weight of the equipment and ammo we were carrying.

The weather was hot and clear.  The hot weather, along with the stress of the climb, made everyone thirsty.  We each had only a canteen of water when starting up the hill, which was a grueling struggle.  We drank most of our water on the way to the top.  By the time we reached it, we were all exhausted and too tired to dig in.  Like most of us, I looked for whatever natural protection I could find like rocks and depressions in the ground.  Some were able to scratch out shallow places in the earth.  It was obvious that there were many stragglers.  The heat and effort took its toll and many became exhausted.  I do not know how many did not make it to the top or what happened to them.  Many probably made it much later than most.  We were never given any statistics on this matter and I do not recall ever asking.  There were many more important matters demanding our attention.  Most of us were there getting set up approximately an hour before dark.

The Chinese overran our outposts and some Marines on the OPs were involved in hand-to-hand combat.  The company that our weapons company was attached to (George) took the blunt of the Chinese attack and suffered the most casualties.  The heaviest casualties were in the 3rd Platoon.  Our company came under attack maybe two or three hours after it became dark. The enemy was close enough to lob grenades at us and the fire-power of the enemy was heavy.  They seemed to make use of those grenades more than normal.  Because of the terrain, they were able to get pretty close to our positions.  We had to prevent the enemy from breaching our line at this point to avoid losing the hill.  At that time I was a stretcher-bearer.  We were given this duty when we were being rotated out of Korea.  I felt that I was so close to getting out of this hellhole, yet here I was fighting for my life.  The greatest danger of being a stretcher-bearer was that we had to expose ourselves to enemy fire in order to assist in moving the wounded to the rear for medical attention.

The enemy used the same tactics they always used.  They attempted to overrun our positions in the dark and frighten and confuse us.  This did not work on Hill 902.  We (the third battalion of the 1st Marine Regiment versus an estimated regiment of Chinese) defended it successfully that night and held the hill to prevent enemy control.  The rest of the division was able to withdraw safely as a result.  We had placed several fire teams on outposts out in front of our main positions.  When they came under attack, we were able to prepare for the enemy and organize our defenses.

The Chinese were willing to sacrifice untold numbers of soldiers using their usual method of mass attack.  Human life was probably the cheapest and most readily available weapon they had.  The enemy fire-power was unusually heavy in this battle because of the close proximity of the combatants.  We had not been able to adequately prepare for the attack because it was after dark when we got settled in and the ground was not suitable for digging in.  The major difficulty we had to face was the terrain.  We managed to climb up this hill and then back down, bringing our casualties and our dead with us.

Our leadership during this attack was, as always, outstanding.  I cannot point out any particular officer because in the heat of battle, and especially in the dark, things were happening very quickly.  We did not need anyone to tell us what had to be done.  My platoon sergeant Gunny Wilson was instrumental in holding the group together by his individual courage and leadership.  His deeds and actions on that night are legendary.  He was awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions on Hill 902.

Our weapons worked well.  It was getting the ammo to the weapon that was difficult.  Carrying machine gun and BAR ammo up this hill was a demanding chore.  We were lucky we had the amount of ammo up there that we had. We did not need anyone to tell us what had to be done.  In the dark it was difficult to see who the individuals were, but I feel that every man who fought valiantly to defend this hill was a hero under very difficult conditions.  I witnessed no acts of cowardice.

The casualties on Hill 902 were heavy.  The fire team I was a member of as a BARman (Browning Automatic Rifle) lost three of its four members.  I had been replaced as the BARman in this fire team a few days before this battle.  One of my best friends and a BARman in the same squad as me was killed.  His name was Joe Caruso.  I did not witness his death.  I was in another location.  However, when it became daylight and we began assessing our losses, I found out about Joe being one of those killed.  It was a shocking and morale-shattering experience.  He was a super nice person and one of my best friends.  Another casualty, Walter Norris, was from the Cincinnati area where I lived and we often talked about things back home like football rivalries between our high schools and other things of common interest.  Walter was only 17 when he died on Hill 902.  A week or so before he died he had received a bracelet from home that he was really proud of.  When we were carrying the casualties off of the hill, one of the dead with a poncho over him had his arm hanging out.  I knew immediately that it was Walter.  I met his sister Patricia after I joined G-3-1, an association of George Company veterans.

To me, the most ironic aspect of this battle was that many of our killed were the result of our own artillery landing in our area rather than the enemy area.  I felt the ground jump as these huge shells exploded.  They landed so close that I feared the next one had my name on it.  Several Marines who were my fellow stretcher bearers were killed in this bombardment.  They would have been out of Korea in a few more weeks.  Our corpsman did a great job as usual.  To get to the wounded they had to brave enemy fire and expose themselves to extreme danger.

At daylight we were told that we would be pulling off of Hill 902.  We had probably close to 100 casualties that had to be carried off that hill (a better word would be "mountain").  We used all of the stretchers available and then resorted to ponchos for carrying the dead and wounded.  Since it was daylight and we were relatively close together as a unit, the only dead that we would have likely left might have been the fire teams placed out in front of our main positions.  However, groups under the leadership of Gunny Wilson went to these locations to bring back the dead.  As far as I recall, we recovered all of them.  To climb down that steep trail was very challenging in itself.  To carry a dead or injured person was extremely difficult.  The struggle to do so in the heat we had to deal with made the need for water critical.  However, most--including me, had drank all of the water in our canteens the previous day in climbing to the top.  I remember in climbing down we could see the river flowing down at the bottom of the mountain.  It made the awareness of our thirst even more acute.

We pulled back from this hill around the middle to afternoon of April 24.  The memory I have most about getting down off of it was how thirsty I was and how I ran to the river and started drinking the dirty water once we got the bottom.  Later it hit me that I might contract some sort of disease from what I had just done.  The medics had told us to be sure and put into our canteens the pills we had to purify the water before we drank it.  I could not wait to go through that.  As far as I know it did not bother me.  I do not ever remember being more thirsty than I was that day.

Tanks could not have helped us on this mountain.  In our descent from Hill 902, the Corsairs came in to strafe the enemy.  Somehow they thought we were the enemy and began firing their rockets and 20 millimeter cannons at us.  One of the most frightening sights I ever saw was when I looked up to see a Corsair diving right at me with cannons blazing.  The bullets were kicking up dirt everywhere.  We quickly got out our panels to warn the pilot that we were not the chinks.  I was very happy when he left to go terrorize the enemy.  I do not recall if there were any deaths due to this event, but I think there were some serious injuries suffered by several.

When the battle was over and I had time to stop and think about what we had just been through, I still had the vision of the dead and wounded that we had to carry off of Hill 902.  I thought, "Why did they have to die?  What did it accomplish?"  Through the years I have thought about the twists of fate that had put me in the right place at the right time.  If that battle had occurred a few days earlier, I would still have been a member of that fateful fire team that was overrun on the outpost.  I thought about the artillery rounds that exploded all around me and killed several other stretcher bearers like me who were going home soon.  Why them and not me?

I was always aware of the danger in Korea.  When first arriving in the country, I experienced something I had never imagined before and did not know what to expect.  Then as a short-timer, rather than being more aware of the danger, I was more aware of the fact that I might be lucky enough to live through all of this.  It was becoming more of a reality in my mind every day.  I thought that it would be ironic to get this close to surviving and then become a casualty.

Hill 902 was the last time I ever had to face enemy troops in combat.  I was rotated out of Korea around the 1st day of May.  I learned more about life in the six months I spent in Korea than any other period of my life, but I would never want to go through it again.  Now at age 77, that is not very likely.  Combat is something one must experience to understand.  Reading about it never tells the story about what goes through an individual's mind when he is in combat.  I learned a lot about people.  I learned never to judge a person by what he appears to be.  I really got to know a person when I saw how he responded when facing danger and possible death.  I found that often those I expected to be the bravest did not respond as I had expected.  On other occasions, those who I had the least confidence in responded surprisingly well and sometimes heroically.  I saw Marines I never expected it of shoot themselves in the foot to get evacuated from the Chosin Reservoir.  I often wonder if they ever received a Purple Heart for that and the effect it had on their self respect.

I began to see the kind of people who were great leaders and to distinguish them from the others.  The best example for me was Captain Sitter.  He was not impressive physically and not the person I would have chosen to be with in a bar-room brawl.  But when the chips were down, he displayed more courage than any of our leaders, in my opinion.  I learned how precious life is and how easily it can be lost.  Like most 20-year olds, before I went to Korea I thought I was going to live forever.  I thought that dying was something that only old people did.  Most of all, I learned what I was personally made of.  I learned what it means to be able to say to myself that, in the fear of facing death when under attack by the enemy, I was not a coward.  This is something you never know until you experience it--and you never know what you are going to do the next time it happens.  I learned how uncivilized the human race really can be.  Even animals do not kill each other without a reason.  I killed enemy soldiers who were possibly fathers of small children or a loving son of some Chinese farmer.  I took a watch from one engraved, "the international dispensary of Shanghai."  He may have been a doctor then or possibly might have been someday and might have saved many lives.  I did not know them and had no personal grudge against them.  I simply hated them as the enemy because that was what we were taught.  Today I think that there should be more civilized ways of resolving differences.  Obviously none have been discovered yet.

My most memorable moment in Korea was in the Chosin Reservoir where I saw the bodies of many dead Marines frozen into grotesque shapes.  The day I left Korea I will always remember as the happiest day of my life.

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Going Home

I never knew the exact day I was going to leave until it happened.  I knew I was going to be rotated as soon as replacement troops arrived because I was moved from my position as an automatic rifleman to that of a stretcher bearer.  This was the normal routine followed.  During my last hours with the unit, I was in battalion headquarters awaiting rotation.  I was not doing much of anything at the time because I believe the battalion was in reserve after Hill 902--or at least we were not on the line.  I cannot recall specifically what I was doing.  Since I was not with the rifle company any longer, I did not get to say goodbye to my individual friends in George Company.  I was both sad and glad when I left the unit.  Only a person who loved combat to the point of risking his life would not be glad to be leaving Korea.  I never met such a person.  Still, I was sorry for those left behind.  I was sad for those who would never return.

We were taken to an airfield in trucks.  Boarding those trucks was one of the happiest days of my life.  I do not recall which airfield or where it was located.  We then flew to Japan where we spent several days before boarding ship.  I do not recall any standard procedures as such to go home.  What I remember the most was being told not to take any weapons out of Korea.  Unfortunately, I had to turn in an automatic pistol I had taken as a souvenir.  I also had a Thompson submachine gun, but I gave that to a friend before I left battalion.

I am not sure of the exact date I left Korea.  It was early in May of 1951.  I held the rank of Lance Corporal. As I left Korea, I saw replacement troops lined up at the airfield.  I remember how neat and clean they appeared.  I did not make any remarks to them and I did not see others doing so either.  When we were in a combat zone, we hollered at other units when passing trucks.  It was a kind of "we are better than you" kidding, especially if we were headed in the direction of the enemy.  I did not converse with the new troops coming in because I did not want to tell them what they were getting into.  I could only think about the things they had to look forward to.  I wondered how many of them would become casualties.  I wanted to wish them good luck, but did not.  I did not want them to think about how much they would need it.

One of the major social activities of Marines in camp was to go to the slop shoot (base saloon) and drink beer.  The only time I became really drunk was in Japan after we left Korea.  Getting out of that hell hole was something to celebrate, especially knowing that I would be home soon.  I cite the following conditions under which I had to live for the six months I was in the "hell hole" known as Korea:

1. The extremely cold temperatures to which we were exposed in the Chosin Reservoir with no means of protection from it other than our heavy clothing and sleeping bags which, when we could, we had to use on the cold, frozen earth.
2. Having to struggle to survive against enemy attacks under the conditions referred to above.
3. Spending most of this time in a hole we had to dig into the ground almost every night other than Chosin, where it was impossible to dig in.
4. Living most of the time on cold, tasteless rations which we could heat only when the situation permitted.
5. Getting little peaceful sleep and wondering if we were going to wake up staring at an enemy weapon.
6. Living from day to day wondering if we were going to exist tomorrow.
7. Seeing or knowing of friends and others we knew being killed.

I could probably fill up several pages on this subject, but I do not feel that words alone can really tell how a person going through this felt.  To me, it was as close to hell as one can get on this earth.

We went from Japan directly to the States.  I do not remember the name of the ship I went back to the States on.  I think we were all very eager to see the good old USA again--at least I was certainly looking forward to it. I was sick for about the first two days at sea.  I had gotten loaded on sake the night before we left.  I have never been able to drink it since.  As I recall, the weather on the return trip was pretty good.  There was no reason to be seasick under normal conditions.  The trip took several days, but I do not recall the specific number.  The only thing I think we had for entertainment was movies, but I am not even certain of that.

One of the most beautiful sights I ever saw was the Golden Gate Bridge as we sailed beneath it.  I will never forget that sight.  I knew we were finally home.  We disembarked at Treasure Island Naval base near Oakland.  I recall a small band playing patriotic music on the dock.  Some lucky ones had family or friends there to greet them.  I had thought there would have been a lot more people than there were.  I guess that is why they call Korea "the forgotten war."

When we processed off the ship, we just took what we could carry.  I do not recall any specific processing other than the normal line up and roll call.  I wanted to kneel down and kiss the ground.  Some did.  I just stood there watching the reunion of those whose families had met them and listening to the band play the Marines Hymn.  We were taken to the barracks on the base and assigned bunks and a locker.  We had to spend a day or so going through medical examinations to see if we had contracted any diseases in Korea.

I called my mother to tell her that I was home.  Then we hit the bars in San Francisco where we spent most of the first 24 hours.  We were due back by midnight, but nobody made it before daylight.  The guards on the main gate acted like they did not see us, but most of us were staggering so badly that they could not have missed us.  I doubt if they would have locked us up anyway.

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Post-Korea

I finished out my time in the Marine Corps on guard duty at the Naval Ammunition Depot at Portsmouth, Virginia.  I did not go wild.  Before I went into the Marine Corps I was a happy-go-lucky teen who only thought about sports and having fun.  I came home a much more sober and mature person.  I was withdrawn and less sociable than before.  I think many of the people who knew me before I went to Korea noticed this change in me.  I was somewhat depressed at times when I thought about my friends who were KIA or permanently disabled.  As time went by, I adjusted to it.  I did not consider re-enlisting.  I felt that I would have more opportunities on the outside.  I was discharged from the Marine Corps on October 1, 1952.

I found the adjustment to civilian life somewhat difficult.  For almost four years I had lived a life style of getting up early, eating at a set time, living in a barracks with no curtains or privacy, being required to stay sharp in dress and appearance, obeying orders immediately and without question, and all of the other military regimentation which was part of military life.  Suddenly I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted to do and whenever I wanted to do it.  It seemed strange for a while.  Of course, this all diminished over time.

After I was discharged, I met a girl who was a few years behind me in high school.  I was on the high school football team and she knew me, but I did not know her then.  She reminded me that she was the girl who followed me and my then high school sweetheart home from school every day.  She lived in the same neighborhood.  the then high school sweetheart could not wait for me to come home.  I had joined the Corps for three years, which was extended nine months due to the Korean War.  She waited until I came home to tell me that she was marrying someone else.  I am glad this happened (even though I was not at the time) since I would not have met and married Carol.  On May 23, 1953, I married Carol Ryan. We have had a happy and long marriage (54 years in May of 2007), and have four wonderful children (Karen, Peggy, Terra, and Lora), five grandchildren, and now four great grandchildren.

I went to work in the accounting department of a life insurance company.  I obtained an undergraduate degree at the University of Kentucky, and then a masters degree in Business Administration at Xavier University in Cincinnati, Ohio. I was promoted to the company tax accountant and the company preferred someone with a legal background.  The promotion was contingent upon my completing law school, which the company agreed to finance.  This was a great opportunity for me and I jumped at the chance.  I completed law school by attending evening classes over a period of four years.  I obtained a degree of Juris Doctor at the Chase College of Law and became an attorney at law. I then went into private practice after retiring from the insurance company, including several years as a public defender.  I am now retired from both positions, although I still practice law on a limited basis.

While continuing my formal education, I was older than most, had a full-time job and a family to take care of.  I did not take everything for granted like so many of the students did.  Many thought the world owed them everything.  I was somewhat bitter in that most of them looked at the Korean War as a police action and not very important.  This hurt when I thought about the many that gave so much, including their lives, to this so-called "police action."

On two occasions I looked up the families of my buddies who died in Korea.  I visited the parents of William Baugh, with whom I had spent most of 1949 at Camp Lejeune and in Korea in the same platoon.  I found this to be very difficult to do--much more so than I had anticipated.  I told them I remembered the vest pocket Bible they sent him and how he always carried it there.  He died at Hell Fire Valley and was awarded the Medal of Honor.  It was difficult to know what to say other than that he was a great person and that I was proud to have served with him.  They lived near Cincinnati (Harrison), which is about 40 miles from my home.  As I mentioned earlier in this memoir, I also visited the parents of Walter Norris, with whom I served in Korea and with whom I spent a lot of time talking about things we had in common back home in Cincinnati.  Walter was only 17 when he was killed on Hill 902.  He was always smiling and carefree and his family loved him dearly.  They were so proud of him being a Marine.  Talking to his father was one of the most difficult things I ever did.  He was totally shattered by Walter's death.  The terrible pain he was suffering was readily apparent on his face.  His sister is now a member of the G-3-1 auxiliary and we have gone to reunions with her and her husband.  We have also had dinner with them at local restaurants on several occasions.  She was about seven years old when I went to see her family.  She is a super person and is to be commended for keeping the memory of Walter alive.

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Final Reflections

Considering the threat that communism was to our way of life, I think it was right that the United States sent troops to Korea in the first place.  Many felt that if we did not stop their aggression, America would eventually be their target.  In retrospect, we could have ignored this threat and allowed them to destroy themselves as they did in Russia.  Then I was not sure of why we were there.  I was a lot less philosophical than I am today.

I think that MacArthur allowed his ego to rule his thinking.  He had ample evidence and intelligence reports of the Chinese being near the border in great strength.  He should have determined whether this information was creditable before he moved, and then considered the political as well as the military repercussions.  He should have made this move only after making an intelligent and informed assessment of all of these factors.

In my opinion, the biggest mistake made by the United Nations was in underestimating or the outright ignoring of the Chinese forces.  The entire First Marine Division, along with the US Army division and South Korean forces, were almost annihilated because we were overextended in an area that favored the enemy.  The mountainous terrain and limited access by a narrow, sometimes impassable road that was easily controlled by the Chinese, who moved mostly on foot, favored the Chinese.  It made this what could have been one of the worst military blunders ever.  If MacArthur had been as good a military strategist as he thought he was, he would have known that the Chinese method of fighting was to separate units and then attack the smaller, isolated forces.  He gave them the perfect opportunity to carry out this campaign on their terms.

The comparison of South Korea with North Korea today is the best illustration of the good that came from this war.  It made it clear to the rest of the world that our way of life was superior to communism.  I'm not sure if the United States should still have troops stationed in Korea.  North Korea seems to still be a hostile regime.  In spite of their economic stress, they do have a formidable military force.  They have invested most of their resources in their military while the rest of their country is starving.  They would have the most to gain and an incentive to utilize their army to solve their problems.

I think the Korean War is called "the Forgotten War" because our country did not think of it as a war.  Truman called it a police action and therefore most of the population developed the same attitude.  It was only five years after World War II and the country was tired of war and did not want to face another one.  It was of no interest to a high percentage of the people.  Then came Vietnam and the young people rebelled against getting themselves killed for a far away unknown Asian country that seemed to mean nothing to them.  This distracted the public from Korea as Vietnam demanded all the attention.

The Associated Press recently published stories about the killing of civilians at Nogun-ri, South Korea.  I do not doubt that this happened.  They over-reacted to the fear of enemy soldiers infiltrating the civilian population.  To me this illustrates poorly trained, undisciplined, and disorganized troops who, because of even poorer leadership, were out of control and acted in panic.  Even if some enemy troops had infiltrated, it did not justify slaughtering women and children.  A little common sense would have told them that these poor people, with their children tagging along behind, had to go somewhere to avoid the wrath of a war they were caught in the middle of.  This was the type of thing that got us the name, "the ugly Americans."

The Korean War was the first time that the free world stood up to the challenge and aggression of the communists.  We prevented their capture of a free country that would today be under communist control if we had not intervened.  It was a terrible price to pay, but the price may well have been much greater in the long run.

As to the return of our missing in action, our government is probably not doing a sufficient job in its efforts to locate and return them.  It is difficult to negotiate with the North Koreans because of their hostility toward us.  Any threat of forcefully pursuing this matter could lead to serious conflicts.  It would have to be done by political persuasion or offering financial assistance to them.  I think the government is resisting doing this because it seems like extortion.  Others in the government feel that there would be little benefit after all these years and that most of our MIAs/POWs would have probably died by now.  However, in my opinion, as long as there is the possibility that some may still be alive, we should not give up on them.

Through the years I spoke very little about Korea until recently when I joined the G-3-1 organization.  In essence, for many years I just tried to forget it.  I had the feeling that people just did not want to hear about it, or that they would feel I was exaggerating my involvement.  In any event, I did not feel that I could tell them anything meaningful about it.  My children knew I was in Korea, but I never went into detail with them about it.  I felt that a person who had never experienced combat could not get anything out of me talking about it anyway.  I have said more about my experiences in Korea in this memoir than I have ever said before. I have written about incidents that I have not even thought about since I was in Korea.  Today in retrospect I can see how valuable it would have been to have kept a diary or at least have made notes.  What is most regrettable is my inability to recall the names of so many individuals whose images I can remember so vividly.  There are certain events which I can recall and will never forget, but I cannot state with any assurance the order of their occurrence or location.  I wish that I would have had the foresight then to realize the value of this information someday.  But then I was young and not mindful of such things.  My main concern was getting out of Korea alive.

It's probably true that World War II veterans are treated with more respect and appreciation than Korean War veterans.  World War II was a war we fought in order to save our own country, not some unknown foreign nation.  Everyone was involved, even on the home front.  The whole population was affected in some way.  With the Korean War, there was only limited interest or involvement by the civilian population back home.

My training in boot camp was instrumental in instilling the type of discipline that saved many lives.  I witnessed the Army units that broke and ran during the Chosin Reservoir campaign as they straggled into our garrison at Hagaru.  They suffered terrible casualties because they had not learned to respect and obey the orders of their leaders.  They had not been taught to be proud of themselves and their fighting ability.  We hated the DI's in boot camp because we were forced to obey and respect them under any circumstances.  To us, a Marine officer was God incarnated.  This saved many lives in Korea, including mine probably.

I have no permanent disabilities from the Korean War that I could claim disability pay for.  I do have what is probably rheumatic pain in my hip, which I feel may be due to sleeping on the frozen ground.  I also have a bladder weakness which I think may be attributed to not being able to urinate due to the weather and the amount of clothing we wore.  I cannot prove any connection.

I have not revisited Korea, but I would like to do so.  I would like to see if I can still climb Hill 902 (without gear, of course).  It would bring back many memories.  I met several buddies from the war at the G-3-1 and Chosin Few reunions.  I would like to know whatever became of many of the members of the platoon I was with in the Sixth Marines at Camp Lejeune and later Korea.  Unfortunately, I do not recall where most of them were from except in generalities (like New York).

The Marine Corps taught us responsibility.  Not doing our job right could get others killed.  Accepting responsibility as a father and a husband, as well as an employee, are traits acquired from our training.  Pride in being a Marine is the hallmark of the Corps.  Semper Fi is our byword.  Being a Marine is an experience we never forget.  So, too, my time in Korea was the most emotional and unforgettable six months of my life.

I was not a hero or an outstanding Marine.  My only purpose in Korea at the time was in staying alive.  I just tried to do my duty as best I could in serving my country honorably.  To the best of my recollection, I have not made any statements in these memoirs that implied that I was anything other than just another Marine. I tried not to talk about those things I was not reasonably certain of or that I was not involved in personally.  (For instance, since I was not transferred out of Weapons Company and into George Company until January of 1951, I did not discuss in my memoirs details about George Company personnel and activities in the Chosin Reservoir campaign.) The turmoil and confusion of so many events moving at mach speed makes it difficult to be certain of everything that happened or when it happened or where it happened.  The furthest thing from my mind at that time was the possibility of ever having to remember it--or for that matter, even wanting to remember it.  In fact, for almost 50 years I tried to forget it.

My only purpose in spending a great amount of time in writing this material was to leave to those who follow some concept of what it was really like.  Having reached the age where I can look back at these experiences objectively, I feel that the future generations should have some understanding of the horrors of this war or any war from the perspective of a person who experienced it.  Perhaps they will get something from my memoir.  In it are the emotional responses of an individual who experienced life in the Corps.  They provide a good perspective from the viewpoint of someone who was actually in Korea.  Only someone like me who were there--a combat rifleman in the Marine Corps--can truly tell that perspective with any conviction.