Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [204]
Our fourth platoon took up their rifle positions defending the rear. That night “Hampton,” a Canadian who joined the Army at the age of sixteen and a gunner in my squad, and I must have thrown a case of grenades. From our foxhole, we threw them down the hill towards the flashes from the enemy’s rifles. The following morning we couldn’t tell if we had hit anything, since the Mongolia Division never left their dead or wounded behind—they were a first class unit.
Around midnight our first platoon had been hit hard and run over, causing a weak link in our circle. We were told help from the first platoon of Baker Company was on the way. About an hour later, we received a call from them saying they were in the trenches and didn’t know which way to go to get to the outpost. I was called to the CP and told that I needed to go bring them to the outpost, since I had the most experience of traveling the trenches.
I was pretty sure I knew where they were, but my biggest concern was if the Chinese were in the trenches between us. Gathering my .45 pistol and carbine with two banana clips, I headed back towards the MLR—alone. After traveling about one-hundred yards, I thought I could hear the enemy in the area, but they weren’t in the trenches. So, to be on the safe side, I crawled on my belly until I was sure I had passed them. Finally, I came upon what I knew was Baker Company’s first platoon, when someone shouts, “Halt, who goes there?” Oh, hell! Suddenly, I realized with all the excitement of the night, I never got the password. I replied back, “Don’t shoot. I’m Sergeant Albert with Company C and I don’t have tonight’s password. I’m from St. Louis, home of the Cardinals, and Browns baseball team” When I said “Browns” he started laughing, and said okay.
I told them we may have to pass the enemy on our way to the outpost, so if they had anything that made a noise to leave it behind. So, in the darkness of night, we took off and I wasn’t sure we were going the right way until I came to a Korean canvas shoe that I had passed on the way down. Finally, we arrived safely and they helped plug-up our weak positions.
After we got back the enemy didn’t bother us, but they went straight to the front line. We thought that on their way out they would overrun us and take prisoners. Someone must have been watching out for us, for it didn’t happen.
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One night I was smoking in the bunker and decided to go outside for some fresh air. Like a fool, I took the cigarette with me. I knew I could cup it in my hands, and show no light—what a dummy. As I took a drag, it must have lit up my face. The next thing I felt was sand spraying my neck, as a sniper round busted the sandbag next to me. This was the last cigarette I smoked until some ten years later. It was careless acts like that one—that we learned not to do in basic—that caused a lot of casualties in a war; I was one lucky fool.
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We were in reserve and after a hot shower and putting on clean underwear (which made you feel like a million dollars), I heard they were having mass in the mess hall bunker. During the mass, as the priest stood with his back to us, a bomb hit the rear of the bunker causing part of it to cave in. They didn’t flinch a bit, and continued with the mass as if nothing had happened. Not me! Still shaking from the concussion of the bomb blast, I got out of there before another one hit.
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At the end of April, I was sent to Kokura, Japan for five days of R&R. I spent almost three days waiting for a telephone call to my wife Shirley to go through. During this time I was able to visit several Buddhist temples, some castles, gardens, and the Kokura United Nations Military Cemeteries where Korean laborers, in three days, moved the bodies of 864 fallen comrades to be shipped to Kokura for burial, before the arrival of Chinese Communist Forces.