Just before midnight, we headed for the ford. Engineers and civilian workers had built a pontoon bridge, and by the time we got there it was jammed with tanks, jeeps, trucks and men. As we walked along the road, we passed long lines of trucks waiting on the side. The drivers stood nearby smoking and talking. They knew what we all knew. This was the old Army game of hurry up and wait. We worked our way down the road and finally pulled off to the side near the river. It didn’t bother me. I was clean, my uniform was clean, and I could still taste that beer.
At three the next morning, it was our turn to cross. We had a mission to capture and secure a small town a few miles north of the crossing site. As we hustled down the road, I saw what looked to be thirty North Korean artillery pieces lined up hub-to-hub. True to Soviet doctrine, they were massed and well forward. And caught totally by surprise when we breached their defense line. They looked like they were waiting for trucks or horses to tow them north. The tide had definitely started turning in our favor.
It felt good to be on the move. Pusan had felt like a merry-go-round, moving all the time but going nowhere. We spent so much time digging for our lives. Being on the move felt foreign and strange.
The road cut through some rolling hills laced with rice paddies. I could just see the village’s squat huts in the distance. My eyes quickly found a high piece of ground just forward of the village and left of the road. That is where I’d be if I set up an ambush. All of sudden a North Korean machine gun started spraying the road.
They had us in the open.
Quickly ducking off the road, we started to slog through the dark, murky water of the rice paddies. The stench from the paddies was enough to choke a maggot. The mud at the bottom sucked at our boots, and the nasty stagnant water made some of the men gag. It was impossible to move quickly and we got bogged down there. At sunset, we were still in the rice paddies, between two roads. The North Koreans had us pinned down and unable to push into the village.
I heard the rumbling first. Peeking over the dike, I saw three Russian-made T-34 tanks. I could tell they were T-34s because of the narrow turret that sat at the top of the almost pyramid-shaped body. The tanks had led the charge against Nazi Germany in World War II. The T-34 dominated the German tanks because the Russian tanks could race over the deep mud and snow of the eastern front. After the war, the Soviets sold them to their Communist allies. The North Korean invasion was spearheaded by T-34 tanks.
The North Korean lead tank was almost on us. It stopped, and the main gun started to slowly turn in our direction. I looked at the road and saw a bazooka gunner jump out of the rice paddy, run to the middle of the road, stop, shoulder the tube and aim it at the tank. I thought this guy must have nerves of steel. It was a modern day David and Goliath.
Wham!
The rocket smashed into the tank and bounced off. The goddamn thing was a dud, or the gunner was too close and the rocket did not have time to arm. A burst from the tank’s machine gun opened up and quickly cut the American gunner down. I scrambled down the muddy dike screaming at Heaggley to get his gun up. Machine gun rounds from the tank’s gunner sprayed me with mud.
“Go for the treads,” I screamed.
I watched Heaggley’s assistant gunner slide a round into the 57 on his shoulder and tap him on the helmet. I slid to a stop and buried my head in my hands. I felt the concussion before I heard the round race by and hit the tank. The armored hulk tried to shake off the blast, but when it moved I watched the tread roll off the wheels. The turret still worked, and I could see it move back and forth searching for a target. Staying out of the North Korean’s sights, I motioned to Walsh to get his gun on the second tank. In minutes, I heard another blast from the 57. Soon, the two tanks, unable to get by their crippled mate, reversed and headed back to the village.
We stayed crouched down and out of view of the tank’s machine guns. I didn’t want to expose myself. We didn’t have any high explosive anti-tank rounds that could penetrate the tank’s armor. We were at a standoff. With all the firing, I couldn’t hear the American tanks coming up until they opened fire.
A pair of M-24s, primarily a reconnaissance vehicle with thin armor plates and a light 75mm cannon, came down the road and quickly blasted the lead tank with one shot. It was getting dark and the order came down to dig in. The stench and heat were almost unbearable, but it beat attacking the North Koreans at night. Our artillery continuously pounded them throughout the night, giving us some measure of confidence and security. We’d been on the receiving end of such barrages and knew how it frayed our nerves.
The next morning, we started out toward the hill and the village. A thick early morning fog hung low over the rice paddies. Visibility was zero. We were stiff, wet and very anxious as we started moving toward the objective. Up ahead, I saw soldiers walk through the North Korean positions and continue toward the village. Climbing up the last dike, we ran up on a road covered in North Korean bodies. They were in a heap, torn apart by shrapnel. Mules and broken equipment sat motionless nearby. Body parts were strewn on both sides of the road. I saw men lying dead still chained to the machine guns they were pulling. As the fog lifted, the sight became even more gruesome. Our artillery had caught them trying to withdraw. The same scene played over and over again as we moved up the road into the village. We didn’t face a fight taking this position.
The company regrouped on the road and we were told trucks were coming to pick us up. The North Koreans were withdrawing so quickly that there was no way we could catch them on foot.
When the trucks arrived, we got a great surprise. The weapons platoon’s vehicles also arrived. My section had two gun jeeps and I had a jeep and trailer. Two of the drivers were replacements for the section. I gathered the section around the first jeep and we spent the rest of the day going over how we operated mounted. Only Walsh, Hall, Heaggley and I knew we even had jeeps. The rest of the section had arrived after we left Pusan. Standing in front of the men, I realized that I knew very little about the replacements. And for most of them, I’d never know much more than their names, since they only survived a few days.
When nightfall set in, we started moving rapidly north. I tried to get some sleep by lying on the ammo backpacks in the trailer. I was half-asleep when I heard in the distance “Banzai! Banzai!” I leapt from the still moving trailer with my weapon at the ready. Squinting into the darkness, I saw some civilians standing near the entrance to a village. They were bowing and shouting.
“Manzai! Manzai!” Tony said as we passed.
Not banzai. I learned later that manzai meant welcome.
The North Korean Army was in total disarray. We grew leaders. Someone always stepped up and took over. They were followers. When their leaders fell, no one stepped up. They were isolated in their holes. Left alone, scared, tired, hungry and devastated. They were surrendering by the hundreds. We were simply directing them to keep moving south on the road.
Every mile we moved north my outlook changed. The whole section looked and acted more self-confident. When we got into a fight, we enjoyed it. The killing was quickly becoming revenge rather than a necessity to gain ground and drive the North Koreans out. We were still being killed, only now we were the aggressors and they were dying in their holes. I knew we were better fighters and had held under tremendous odds. Now the tables were turned, and they did not have the will or resolve to accomplish what we had in Pusan during the dark days of the summer.
A platoon of tanks was leading our company’s advance until we hit some mountainous terrain. The tanks were having difficulty navigating the numerous switchbacks, so the company pushed up ahead with my section in the lead. As we climbed the mountains, we couldn’t see around the bend in the road. After creeping around the first bend, I stopped the convoy and called Walsh over.
“Turn the lead jeep around and face the gun to the rear. Back around the corners,” I said. “This way, we can get off one shot and if necessary scoot back to cover quickly.”
Walsh smile
d and turned the first jeep around. Looking at the road, he pulled the next one up so that we had two jeeps and two guns facing the enemy.
“Two quick shots are better than one,” he said.
We continued through the mountains. I was a little more comfortable with this arrangement, but I hoped we would not run headlong into more T-34 tanks. In a few days, we’d almost made it to Seoul. Free from the mountains, we were close to pushing the North Koreans out of the south. Still in the lead, we overtook a North Korean headquarters unit that was trying to evacuate just south of the capital. I was near the back talking to Bromser and didn’t get up to my section until after they captured the officers.
I saw Walsh and Heaggley standing by as some of the newer guys had the officers, high-ranking by the look of their uniforms, in the street. One of the officers couldn’t stand and clutched his thigh. The others were leaning against a wall, hands high above their heads. They all were sharply dressed and well groomed. Obviously they had not been doing any of the fighting. I watched as my guys took their watches and other mementos from their uniforms. By the time I got there, all of the North Koreans had been ordered to strip out of their uniforms.
“Stop that shit. Let them put their clothes back on,” I yelled at Walsh and Heaggley. “Make the men give them back their watches and get the wounded one over to me.”
I called a medic up and told him to take care of the wounded officer. He was a colonel and wouldn’t stop yelling at me in Korean. Between outbursts, he’d point and wave his hand at my men. I am sure like all officers he didn’t care for being pushed around by soldiers. I ignored him and he finally shut up when the medic started bandaging his wounds.
I told Walsh to move forward and secure a bridge up ahead while I checked out the headquarters.
The wooden building looked like it was part of a small school complex. There was a total of four buildings. I entered one of them, and it looked like we’d caught them sitting down to lunch. The table was still laid out for the noon meal and some of the food was still warm. Lieutenant Bromser showed up soon after.
“It looks like we captured some kind of headquarters. We have about twenty-five prisoners and it’s clear up to the bridge,” I said.
Bromser took out a map and spread it on the table.
“I’m moving through with the rest of the company, and you can pull your men off the bridge and continue to get this mess straightened out. We’re going to hold here for a while, and the battalion is going to come up and take the prisoners.”
I ordered Walsh back and we tossed the headquarters. Throwing a table out of the way, we uncovered an open floor safe. It was stuffed with North Korean money. More money than I had ever seen in my life. The bills were worn and somewhat ragged-looking. I couldn’t read a single word, but on the back side they had western numbers. Most of the bills were one-hundred-won notes. The flip side had a picture of two workers. One held a hoe and the other a hammer. A few of my guys grabbed handfuls and stuffed them in their shirts. The money was worthless and soon became good for toilet paper or to burn and heat C rations.
We had orders to proceed to link up with the Seventh Infantry Division coming south from Suwon. We ran into them at Pyongtaek, a village south of Seoul. When we reached Pyongtaek, K Company from the Seventh Cavalry Regiment had already destroyed two North Korean tanks and cleared the village of North Korean troops.
We pushed north and passed through a Marine unit on the outskirts of Seoul. We continued on with the objective of occupying positions on the 38th parallel. The battalion was mounted in trucks and following a British unit. It was sometime in the afternoon when we started to move through the British. They were off on the side of the road in an apple orchard.
“Stopping for a spot of tea,” we yelled at them.
The British started to shout back and laughingly threw apples to us. I remember the men in the trucks were singing “The Tennessee Waltz.” We were having, as the British would say, a jolly good time.
It was impossible to predict when and where you’d run into North Korean troops. We were moving so fast that we’d overtake an enemy unit only to run headlong into another. It was hard to tell where the front was, which made moving stressful because behind every corner or bend in the road there could be a North Korean ambush.
We were now right on the 38th parallel and awaiting further orders. My section was covering a road. I had two guns, both on the left flank of the road so we could get good flanking shots at anything approaching. Right in front of our position there was a small village. I was a little leery of what was in the village. I decided to send Heaggley with three men to see what was going on.
“Get down in that village and get back before dark,” I told him. “Watch yourself. There is no telling what’s in there.”
Heaggley took off and I watched with binoculars as he approached the village and disappeared. A few minutes later, he called over the radio that he didn’t see any North Koreans.
“Keep looking,” I said, and he pushed deeper into the village. Time went by and there were no more transmissions. I didn’t want to call him because I didn’t know his situation. But after a few hours, I started calling him on the radio. No answer. I was really worried now. It was dark and the company had no idea that I’d sent a patrol to scout the village. I knew I’d have to call back to the company soon so that we could put together a proper patrol to see what happened.
All of a sudden I heard Heaggley’s voice.
“Jesus Christ, where have you been?”
“Rich, you are not going to believe it, we got into the village without any trouble, a couple of Koreans talked to us and said the North Koreans had left the village. We went into a house and the people wanted us to eat something. We had a little to eat and started to leave, and when we opened the door there were twenty North Korean soldiers out in the street,” Heaggley said. “The people in the house signaled to us to be quiet and to stay inside. I didn’t know what the hell the North Koreans were going to do. I just had to wait them out and hope when it got dark we could slip away. As soon as it got dark, the North Koreans moved out and we slipped out of the village and directly back here. We never saw any more North Koreans.”
“Shit. Where did they go?” I asked.
“No idea. But they left the village.”
I called Walsh over and told him and Heaggley we had better keep an eye on that village tonight.
Early the next morning, we were back on foot, advancing toward the North Koreans behind three American tanks. We were receiving heavy artillery fire and I tried to stay close to the tanks, hoping the armor would shield us from the shrapnel flying through the air. One second I was looking back to make sure Walsh’s squad was keeping up and the next I was stunned. A shell landed on the tank, sending shrapnel and fire into the air. The explosion was deafening and I stumbled back dazed.
Falling down in the tracks behind the tank, I saw the crew crawling out of the escape hatch. Machine gun fire was kicking up dirt all around me as I hugged the ground. I could see two tankers lying under the tank. They were wounded and couldn’t crawl away from the hulk.
“Walsh,” I screamed. “Help me get these guys.”
A couple of artillery rounds landed on the road. I felt a sharp, hot pain in my left shoulder.
“Are you all right?” Walsh asked as he raced to my side.
“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head trying to reassure him.
I didn’t have time to worry about it.The machine gun rounds pinged off the armor as I crawled underneath the tank and grabbed one of the tankers by his collar. Pain shot through my arm and my shoulder felt hot and weak. I let go, but hung on with my good hand. Walsh grabbed the other tanker and we dragged the pair to a nearby ditch.
“Medic! Medic!” I screamed.
Blood poured out of their ears from the impact. Both men stared absently into the sky, almost like the blast had blown them far away from the hell around them. Walsh was urging his men to keep going. It was the on
ly way to get out of the artillery fire. I left the tankers and kept the section moving out of the artillery.
With the two remaining tanks the company commander directed our assault on the hill to our right front. With the help of the tanks and our 57 direct fire, we took the lower portion of the hill. As we prepared to assault the North Korean position on the top of the hill, Walsh grabbed me. My shirt was now slick with blood from my shoulder. I could feel it trickle down my arm.
“What the hell are you doing?” he said. “Go get that shoulder taken care of.”
“Quiet,” I snapped.
I didn’t want the rest of the section to know that I was wounded. I wiped the blood off on my pants and looked up at the hill. My shoulder burned, but there was no way I was leaving my men except in a body bag. Walsh wouldn’t let it go. He was stubborn and kept after me. I knew that I would have done the same thing for him if he were wounded.
“Get a medic before we start up this goddamned hill,” I said. “Don’t say anything to anybody, understand?”
“Yeah, Rich, yeah,” Walsh said as he went to get the medic. He looked relieved.
I squatted down and tried to take off my gear and jacket so the medic could get to the wound. My left hand shook as I peeled the shirt off, now a few shades darker from the blood. The medic arrived with Walsh. He wiped away the blood with a wad of gauze and started to bandage the gash. It was on the backside of my shoulder and I couldn’t see the wound.
“A few pieces of shrapnel,” the medic said. “You can move it, right? Probably nothing torn or broken.”
The bandage felt good and I pulled my shirt back on. The attack was about to start. I saw the medic filling out a tag, a slip of paper put on each wounded soldier detailing treatments given and needed. A tag meant a trip to the hospital.
Valleys of Death Page 8