Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [156]
The following morning we were awakened early and were told after breakfast that some of us would be going to Camp Roberts—I was in that group. The other guys would remain at Fort Ord. When I finished eating, a Mess Sergeant asked if I would be interested in staying at Fort Ord as a cook. I politely thanked him, but told him I wasn’t interested since I was a cook, and baker, in the Merchant Marines.
A Mess Sergeant at Camp Roberts made me the same offer, and he got the same answer. When basic started I was assigned to Company D, 48th BN, and having a little ROTC in junior high, I could march and do the Manual of Arms. The first sergeant and field sergeant were both veterans of the early fighting in Korea; both had been wounded, and sent back home to recuperate and train recruits. They told us at the end of basic, we would be going to Korea. They continued on telling us we needed to learn to survive, because in Korea the terrain was rough, winters were extremely cold, and the summers were hot.
After the 4:30 AM “up and at em,” you quickly showered and made your bed. If it wasn’t tight enough to bounce the sarge’s half dollar, he would tear your bed apart and you had to remake it while the other guys watched. When bed-check was finished, you had to fallout fully dressed, with rifle in hand, in front of the barracks—for inspection. Then it was a one mile, double timed march to the mess hall for breakfast.
We also learned how to break apart our M-1 rifle, and any other weapon an infantry soldier would come in contact with, and reassemble it.
It was now graduation day; and in perfect formation, we proudly marched around the parade ground ready from inspection by the base commander. He told us that they had done their best to teach us how to survive in combat—the rest was up to us.
We were given a weeks leave to spend with family and friends before we had to report to Port Chicago, near Martinez, California. It was May 1951 and we were shipping out to Korea.
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We all gathered on the dock and sat on our duffel bags. To help hide our feelings, guys told jokes and I told stories of my years at sea with the Merchant Marines. It was around 10:00 AM when we organized in formation. With our duffel bags slung over our shoulders, we headed towards the ships gangplank. Finally aboard ship, most of the men lined close to the ships railing to wave goodbye to their loved ones. However, Oliver Medeiros, Alberto Granados, and I went below to the galley to find something to eat.
We were taken into the hold we would be sleeping in, and we were allowed to pick our bunks. After twelve days of sailing, we docked at Yokohama, Japan, but we were not given shore leave. I had been here several times during my days as a Merchant Marine.
After disembarkation, we were taken to Camp Drake. Here we boarded another Navy ship and headed to Inchon. From there we were taken to Yong Dong Po, which was a short distance from Seoul.
As we traveled to Yong Dong Po, there must have been a hundred trucks in our convoy. Arriving at night, even though there was still a little daylight left, we were fed a late supper. After which, we took our duffel bags and leaned them up against a wall—or rocks—and were soon asleep, for it had been a long day.
We were at a Repo Depot and there were several thousand men scattered over a large area. Everyone was lined up for breakfast, as names were being called. When a name was called, they were instructed to report to a certain area. Here they were loaded onto deuce-and-a-half trucks, and delivered to the units in need of replacements.
One night I was lying on my duffel bag, with my helmet down over my eyes. Sleeping next to me was a guy with his boot laces untied. I thought back to when I was seven years old, in grammar school, in Valdez. We had a kid—Agapito Espinosa—in the second grade who never seemed to have laces