Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [105]
The road above Hangye was blocked behind the 23rd Regiment and Colonel John (Jack) Chiles, who had taken over from Freeman after the battle at Chipyong-ni at the end of February; hit the roadblock with infantry and tanks. Having killed some three-hundred enemy soldiers, the roadblock still held. It looked like the only way out was to go over the hills—by foot. To save the two-hundred plus vehicles, Chiles was going to have them run the roadblock. With only a driver per each vehicle, they were to be escorted by tanks. Unfortunately, the lead tanks damaged a bridge, and hit some mines—the plan failed. So, the drivers had to join the rest of the 23rd for a hike over the hills.
The morning after the ROK unit had left our right flank, K Company was moving along a ridge line. Our platoon moved off the ridge proceeding along a dry riverbed, to extend the battalions right flank. Less than an hour later, we were ordered back to the ridge.
Finally, towards the middle of the day, we began to pull out. As we headed for the tree line, we passed through a dozen or so wounded that were being carried on litters by South Korean supply packers; there were even some walking wounded. As our column strung out along the trail, the wounded were nearly a mile behind.
A light rain began to fall, and it continued all day. After a couple of hours, my canteen became dry and several times during our hike we stepped over small streams of rainwater that were running off the rice terraces and hills above us. With my thirst getting the best of me, I took off my helmet and quickly dipped it in one of the streams as I stepped across. I wasn’t the only one doing this and knowing what the Koreans used for fertilizer—we drank it anyway.
At times I was able to see the end of the column, and the wounded bringing up the rear. We reached a steep pass on the trail and I stepped out of the column to take a break, and to look back at the valley we just left. As soon as the wounded cleared the woods, the shooting began. The Chinese had finally caught up with us. The litter bearers and the walking wounded, were attacked and began tumbling down the hill. Suddenly, an officer pulled out some machine gunners, and mortar men to set up a defensive line. He told the rest of us to keep on going—back in line I went.
We were passing through a narrow gorge, around 11:00 PM, when we heard someone from the ridge line yell, “Who in the hell is down there?” Many of the guys yelled back, “King Company, 23rd!” We had reached a defensive line set up by the 38th Infantry Regiment—from the 2nd Division. Boy was we relieved. Over hills and through valleys, we hiked fifteen-to-twenty miles.
We came to a clearing where a dozen tanks were parked, lined up for battle. All of our squads paired up with a tank, digging in on the left, right, and behind our tank. The tankers told us to get some sleep as they took guard duty. Being wet from head-to-toe, as well as my wool blanket, I took an empty ration case, opened it on and laid it on the muddy ground. Wrapping up in our wet blankets, my buddy and I laid on the dry cardboard and went to sleep; by morning we were 90 percent dry.
In all this, I never fired a shot. Wars are like that—unpredictable.
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It was the 15th of July 1951 when the 3rd BN, along with the French Battalion moved up replacing the 5th Marine Regiment that was dug in on the “Kansas Line.” This was located on the southern rim of the Punchbowl, which was a large circular hill that had a depression ten-or-fifteen miles across.
The Marines had been there long enough to build bunkers with log and sandbag roofs; as well as stringing a barbed wire fence rigged with trip flares, down the front slope. Our bunker was not deep enough to stand up in, so Richard and I dug down two more feet. Behind us, about fifty feet down the slope, was a spring; we had all the water we needed.
One night, word was sent around that at 10:00 PM some B-29’s would be coming over the valley on a bombing mission, and we were to keep our heads down. When