Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [194]
Suddenly, someone yelled out an alarm and I again came out of the CP bunker into a blinding sunlight. I ran into two soldiers dragging a wounded GI from a bunker that had been hit. Under the clutter of logs and dirt, I found a KATUSA buried up to his waist. The enemy kept firing at us, so I began to dig furiously. After pulling a log off the guy, I scratched away some loose dirt using a bayonet or helmet—I can’t remember which. As I looked up, there digging from the other side was Corporal Gaeton Briseno. Shortly afterwards, a medic reached over my shoulder and gave the KATUSA a shot of morphine. He then inserted a needle that was attached to a bottle by a rubber tube into the guys arm. The medic said the bottle contained “albumin,” or plasma.
I tried to find his legs by sliding one hand along whatever I could fine, and using the other hand to sweep away dirt. Finally, I was able to get my fingers under the buckle of his boot and lifted. When his leg came out of the dirt, it bent forward where there was no joint. Then I found the other leg and it was limp as a hamburger. The medic was standing by with a litter. We quickly loaded him onto the litter and two guys carried him across an open field, while the medic held the bottle of albumin.
Weeks later we heard the KATUSA had lived, but his legs had to be amputated.
The weather had moderated enough that I was able to put away my parka. Everyone in the platoon had been on R&R and was able to shower at least once. Now it was my turn. I walked up the trench to the road, when I met Lt. Colonel Cruikshank—a week earlier he was a major. As I walked a little further, I came to a notch in the ridge that had been cut out for a tank. Earlier that morning, Lt. MacIntyre of Baker Company had been killed in that very spot by a 61mm mortar. Being out in the open, I ran towards an area that provided some cover. Apparently, I didn’t run far enough; as I slowed down I heard an explosion and felt a burning sensation in my left wrist.
Being off balance, and in case of another incoming shell, I jumped into a ditch. As I looked up, I saw three guys running over to me. They helped me up and a medic named Bennett put a band-aid on my wrist. Holding my hand up high, Bennett walked me to Baker Company’s CP. Here, belly down, I was placed in a litter jeep. Apparently, I had been wounded in the butt as well. This was March 4, 1953, and the weather was still cold.
When I arrived at the battalion aid station, Doc Schorr cut off my suspenders to check my left buttock. He then applied a four inch square gauze on my wrist. I was taken to the division clearing station, where a doctor put a wooden splint on my wrist. From there I was taken, by another meat wagon, to the 46th ASU (Army Surgical Unit). I was taken into surgery where they placed a knuckles-to-elbow cast.
From the 46th ASU, via the 11th Evacuation Hospital at Wonju, I was flown to Japan where I ended up at the General Hospital at Camp Drew. There were two other second lieutenants in the officers ward; one was an artillery FO, who had walked into the path of a mortar round, the other was a dogface with more than twenty burp gun holes in his hide. Finally, my cast was taken off and I could hardly wait to get back to Korea.
When I arrived back at Pagan Red, I was re-assigned to Baker Company since Charlie Company had already received a full complement of officers. My new platoon was located to the regiments far right, and to our right was the newly arrived 13th Battalion Combat Team of PEFTOK (Philippine Expeditionary Force to Korea).
With Baker Company acquiring a full slate of officers, I became weapons platoon leader. One of the rifle platoons was being harassed by a sniper, so I set out to do something about it. Taking a sound powered phone, I scrambled to a