Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [201]
I had no plan of shooting him, but when he stopped clapping and reached inside his uniform, I debated whether or not to pull the trigger; he pulled out a “Safe Conduct Pass” leaflet. These had been dropped from our aircraft.
My platoon sergeant, being on the line for nine months, had earned his thirty-six points needed to rotate Stateside. During the Second World War he had been a Prisoner of War of the Japanese and was known to be anxious to get home. Leaving the prisoner with Sarge, I went outside and called headquarters on the EE-8 (hand cranked field phone) to report our prisoner.
This is where we screwed up. The General had wanted a prisoner for some time, but Sarge took his prize—in my jeep—back to the regiment. This was a huge no-no. We were providing support for the 1st BN, particularly Charlie Company, so he should have been our prisoner. Just imagine how difficult it must have been for the commander of Charlie Company, and the 1st BN, to explain to the regimental commander how the first prisoner of 1953 came through their lines. Why do I still remember this? As a result, I received the biggest ass chewing of my career.
A call came in from the 1st BN Commander requesting my appearance at his CP—right away. Entering his bunker, I stood at attention with the proper hand salute. I waited for his return salute in accordance to proper military courtesy; it was a long time before I dropped my arm.
He wanted to know why the prisoner wasn’t sent to him. I informed him that my platoon sergeant should not have taken the prisoner to regiment, and that I took full responsibility. Then he went into his tirade, calling me a “half-assed shavetail.” He continued by saying we tankers were nothing but “glorified Patton’s with that silly ass .45 pistol hangin’ there in your shoulder holster.” I told him I would write a letter of apology and that his headquarters should be credited for the capture. He informed me it was too late, because he was “the laughing stock of the whole friggin’ division.” Then he said, “Get the hell outta my hoochie!”
The following day the division G-2 brought the prisoner to my bunker asking me to help with the interrogation. We loaded him into an armored personnel carrier (half-track) and drove to a high knoll about fifty yards in front of the front lines. Here a Korean interpreter asked him to point out where their key positions were located across the valley. He complied and as he was pointing them out, we came under mortar fire. The G-2 signaled the interrogation was over and we got the hell out of there.
In about two weeks I received a courtesy copy of the intelligence report from division. Our prisoner was the last survivor of his machine gun squad that had been pounded all through the night by patrols supported by tank and mortar fire. He was a South Korean that had been stranded earlier by the yo-yo forces during the early part of the war, and he wanted to return to his family living near Taejon. I’ve often wondered if he made it home.
The battalion commander got over his anger, and we did favors for each other after this.
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In early 1953, while in the vicinity of Satae-ri, we had a patrol that came under fire. So, I directed the fire of the 76mm guns from two tanks in front of the patrol. During this ordeal, SFC (William) Krilling received grenade fragments in both hips. However, he was still able to grab two Chinese burp guns. Even though he was wounded, with the use of a sound powered phone, he was able to relay to me the location of the enemy. I in turn, took his commands and relayed them directly to my gunner and