Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [7]
At 0900 we were receiving reports that long lines of enemy soldiers had been spotted running across the railroad tracks some three-hundred yards away. They were headed for the row of houses behind us. As they disappeared into the houses, they soon started firing from windows, and doorways, at our rear. Captain Jung called our regimental commander, Col. Michaelis, who was located on the south side of the river. He requested permission for us to withdraw; permission was denied. The colonel, who was an experienced World War II veteran and a fine leader, informed the captain there were still a lot of soldiers, and equipment, that had yet to cross the pontoon. We had to hold the enemy a bit longer.
Captain Jung, at 1030, would again call the colonel asking for permission to fight our way out of the tightening circle of the enemy. He went on to inform the colonel that he feared losing many of his men, and that the enemy strength was increasing every minute. Again permission was denied. We were running low on ammo, and some of the men began to think that our senior commanders were sacrificing us for the benefit of the larger units coming south. As a nineteen-year-old first lieutenant, from Warm Springs, Arkansas, I thought this may be my last day on earth.
As we continued to hold our line along the railroad berm, Captain Jung sent a runner to tell all his platoon leaders to meet with him at his CP, which was located behind a hut with a mud thatched roof. Since I was located about seventy-five yards from his CP, I was the first to arrive. When I turned the corner of the hut, he was down on one knee—praying. Seeing me, he stood up. By this time the other officers were beginning to arrive.
Here he informed us of what the plan would be when the word for us to breakout would come. The four tanks would lead slightly ahead of the company, closely followed by each platoon—in line. As we moved out we were to assault the line of houses, turn right on the street that ran behind the houses, and quickly get out of range of the enemies small arms fire. We were to put our dead and wounded on the tanks; the wounded were to ride while holding the dead.
Finally, at 1145, word came to breakout. In the meantime, the Chinese had raised a flag on a makeshift flagpole, on one of the buildings about one-hundred yards behind us. The captain asked one of the tank commanders if he could shoot the flag down. The sergeant replied, “Yes, sir!” He had his gunner zero in on the flagpole—BOOM! The first round missed. However, not only did the second round break the flagpole, but also put a huge gaping hole in the buildings roof.
It was a do-or-die situation as B Company attacked across the open sweet potato field, firing into the windows and doorways of the houses. About half-way across the field, one of my men fell wounded face down in the snow. My sergeant, M/Sgt. Jerome Sudut, and I rushed to his aid. As we were carrying him to one of the tanks, I looked behind us and saw roughly forty Chinese standing on the railroad firing at us. The “Chinks” had seen us leaving.
Reaching the street behind the houses, we hurried east, in two columns. We then came to a larger street, turned right, passed through the 3rd Battalions perimeter, and finally crossed the pontoon bridge. What a scary day!
Unfortunately, B Company had to leave seven men behind—probably killed in action. Three of our KIA’s were KATUSA or ROK soldiers assigned to our company. During the breakout, one ROK was killed and six wounded, which were put on the tanks. We were lucky to have escaped with such low casualties, but discipline, good leadership, and the strong will to survive really paid off.
Having been slightly wounded by enemy mortar shrapnel, treated for frostbite on my left big toe, and treated for malaria—twice, I rotated home on the 5th of May, 1951.
~~Five~~