Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [108]
At Otsu we stayed in barracks that were used to house Kamikaze pilots during their final phase of training. Before leaving, I was assigned to the 5th Marine Regiment.
In early December we again boarded the General Collins, this time headed for Pusan, Korea. It was late afternoon when we arrived and a band, was playing, “If I knew you were coming, I would have baked a cake.” This gave me a sick feeling.
We loaded into boxcars on a slow moving freight train headed for Masan. Before boarding we were given a clip of ammunition, and along the way a Marine fired a round that seemed to have ricocheted throughout the car. Lucky for us, only Private First Class Marines were aboard and because of the train noise no one else heard the shot.
After arriving at Masan, and setting up camp, I was assigned to Charlie Company, 1st BN. Here we waited for the arrival of those men who had spent some thirty days in hell; those men who had been surrounded by over 100,000 Chinese soldiers at the Chosin Reservoir. When they arrived, those young men with their beards looked old and haggard. Their uniforms were torn and spoiled like the homeless on Chicago’s Clark Street. Soon, Masan became a city of tents.
We shipped out of Masan aboard an LST with a base plate marker 104 that was built at the Jeffersonville Boat and Machinery Company; this was one of the LST’s that I helped build during the summer of 1944. Since I knew every hold in the ship, I led some of the second platoon to more comfortable places to bunk. After two days at sea, we landed at the Port of Phohang.
On the January 29, 1951, we proceeded from Topyong-dong on an all night forced march to the village of Chachon-dong. We left Topyong-dong after sundown in a staggered formation. Our formation was led by Captain Jack R. Jones, our company commander. During the march, the rear of our two-hundred man formation had to double time it in order to keep up the pace with the captain’s vigorous stride.
My duty during this mission was as runner for the second platoon, so I was in the middle of this long column—working under Gunnery Sergeant Owens. He was a veteran of World War II, the Inchon Invasion, and the Chosin Reservoir; Gunny was an old man among boys.
About four hours into our march that included a periodic five minute break every hour or so, it became evident that my training at Parris Island and Camp Pendleton was child’s play compared to this. As we continued on, the straps from my field pack and rifle sling were causing pain that was almost unbearable. However, my problems were nothing compared to those guys carrying the BAR’s, and machine guns. My legs felt weak from all the weight, and walking in those shoe pacs was awkward and clumsy; it was like I walking in a sea of glue.
We arrived at Chachon-dong just before sun-up. Upon our arrival, we headed for the police station which was a large building that had a watch tower on the roof. Immediately, our executive officer, First Lieutenant Schening, developed a perimeter around the village. We were placed in civilian homes, so we wouldn’t be noticed.
In my group, which consisted of the platoon runners, were Bill Boyle and Marvin Wright. Besides us three, were Whit Moreland who was our scout and map reader. Plus, we had a Marine correspondent who carried a portable Remington typewriter; and of course, Gunny. We stayed in what they said was the mayor’s house. The first few days were pretty much uneventful.
It was around 4:30 AM on a Friday, when I was awakened by what sounded like my mother popping popcorn for my little sisters. Instead it was the sound of a light machine gun—we all hit the deck. Quickly, we put on our boots, parkas, grabbed our rifles, and headed to the police station which was our command post. As soon as