Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [152]
We learned later that the German U-boat U-486 was responsible for torpedoing the Leopoldville. A few months later the U-486 was sunk by the British destroyer, HMS Tapir.
Finally, the Brilliant delivered us to the dock at Cherbourg. Since we were actually bound for LeHavre, France, the authorities at Cherbourg had to receive the survivors. Of the approximately 2100 aboard, about 1300 survived. After taking on new replacements, within a few weeks we were in combat against the Germans.
Just before Christmas 1945, I was able to get a month home leave. Before heading back to Europe, I was able to apply for immediate discharge, which I did. I elected to remain in the reserves and to stay in the infantry, instead of going back to Coast Artillery—this would be a bad choice.
In January of 1951, I was recalled to active duty—as a First Lieutenant. When I received my notice, my minister, boss, mother’s boss, parents doctor, and a neighbor—active duty Major General Parker—all persuaded me to file for a hardship discharge. The reason being was my father’s poor health and mother’s age. All paperwork was forwarded to the Army, which resulted in a weeks delay to reporting for duty while they considered my request. Not hearing anything, I packed my gear and flew to Camp Stoneman, California. As we were boarding a troopship to Japan, I literally had one foot on the gangplank when I received orders from General Parker. I was to report immediately to the 3rd Infantry Regiment, in Fort Myer, Virginia, which was about a ten minute drive from our house.
Not only does the 3rd provide guards for the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, they also conduct military funerals at Arlington National Cemetery, march in parades, and other duties. Tall, erect men were the one’s chosen to be guards. At 5’-8”, I was never a guard.
Early in the war, General Walton Walker was killed and his body was brought back for burial at Arlington Cemetery. I was in charge of directing traffic around the approaches and crossroads at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the adjacent amphitheater, where the service was to be held. Those in attendance were to be President Truman, along with a number of military and government dignitaries.
We had two directives: first, be sure the caisson, pulled by white horses and coming across the river from downtown Washington, was not held up by traffic. Secondly, make sure that President Truman’s motorcade, which was to arrive earlier, got through without any delay.
Things were going great until Truman’s motorcade arrived late, and from a different direction. Needless to say, the motorcade and caisson arrived at the amphitheaters crossroad at the same time. Who goes first? Who gets the hatchet if the wrong one has to wait?
I had my number one sergeant located at the key intersections, which was about fifty feet from my position. He waved at me as if he was asking, “Which one?” After freezing for a few seconds, I replied back, “The horses.” So, the caisson, all the attendant vehicles, the slow-step marchers, and drummers all filed by the President’s motorcade. You could tell by the looks in the eyes of the motorcycle policeman—in the motorcade—they didn’t like my decision. However, the ceremony started on time.
After the ceremony ended, and everyone was on their way home, the major in charge sped by my post and gave me what I hoped was a “well done” signal. Or could it have been “I want to see you in my office” signal?
I never heard a word about my decision; however, I couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with me receiving orders shortly afterwards to go to Korea.
In September 1951, I arrived in Korea and was assigned to