Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [109]
We didn’t destroy the enemy, but our presence stopped the destruction of this small village and the death of innocent civilians.
The following day the people returned from the hills and set up a market on the outskirts of town. They sold small trinkets, as well as prepared food dishes. I remember seeing a mallard duck and a squid hanging from a line on display. The scene was business as usual—as if the war didn’t exist. We left the next day.
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Early in February of 1951, we moved north, by truck, to Chungju where we were to be the lead company for Operation Killer. On the 21st of February, we assembled near General MacArthur who was seated in his jeep. Using a jeep as an altar, the Navy Chaplain was saying Mass. When he finished, he passed out rosaries to all those in attendance—even those of non-Catholic faiths. It was evident to me; there were no atheists in Charlie Company.
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It was now late March, or early April, and the front line across Korea was not well defined, because of a strong enemy offensive after our success in Operation Killer. The exact location of enemy positions was unknown. So, Charlie Company was called upon to advance through the front line of the First Marine Division in hopes of locating advancing units of the Chinese and North Korean Armies.
We moved quickly along the Korean countryside, only stopping periodically—for five minute breaks. Our flanks were rolling hills, so our fire teams covered the high ground to prevent ambushes. This was a grueling march, however after climbing hills all winter long our Marines were in top shape. Lucky for us, this march was not as torturous as the one to Chachon-dong. We Marines of Charlie Company said we would “go to hell and back” for our company commander Captain Jack Jones; and I thought he was taking us up on our word when he volunteered us for this dangerous mission.
Finally, after dusk, we reached our destination—a hill about six-hundred feet in elevation. It seemed to be sitting in a valley all by itself. With good visibility on all sides; we quickly dug our foxholes.
After taking watch during the night, I remember waking up the first morning. It was springlike with small, green sprouts of fern growing close to my foxhole. It was sunny and clear; we could see for miles, but there was no sign of the enemy. Each day we sent out patrols, but there was no contact with the enemy. I recall on the third day one of our platoon sergeants placed a bright, colored banner in the center of the valley so a plane could make a food and ammunition drop. If the enemy didn’t know our whereabouts before—they did now.
The following day I was sent to get some water. I tied nine canteens to a tree branch and went to a stream at the bottom of the hill. Kneeling along the bank, with my M-1 across my knee, suddenly, a beautiful young Korean lady—accompanied by an old Papa-San—appeared. As I filled the canteens they watched me, and I never took my eyes off them.
On day four we were to move out, so we leveled our foxholes and buried all our debris; this way no one could tell we had been there. So, without loss of life, we returned, but it did prepare us for more perilous things to come.
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It was the 23rd of May when Charlie Company walked “through the valley of the shadow of death.” On the twenty-second we were dug in on the front line, and to our east we could hear the sound of machine gun fire; on the west side we heard the explosion of artillery. Our front was silent.
Later that night, word came down for us to move out. My squad leader, Paul Embrey, told us that “all hell has broken loose.” Apparently, somewhere in our front line a hole had developed and we were ordered to fill it. After being