What Movie Scared You Most When You Were A Kid?

Part 2: The Korean War Begins

Part 6: Into The Trap - Koto-ri To Toktong Pass

Part 8: The Chinese Spring Their Trap

Part 9: Task Force MacLean/Faith - A Tragedy In Five Days

Part 10: An Entirely New War

Part 11: The Relief Of Fox Company

My Father At Frozen Chosin -- Part 11: The Relief Of Fox Company

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Community (This content is not subject to review by Daily Kos staff prior to publication.)

Wednesday March 29, 2017 · 10:30 AM PDT

2017/03/29 · 10:30

Defending Fox Hill -- Diorama from National Museum Of The Marine Corps, Triangle, VA

A brief recap…

When RCT-7 moved into Yudam-ni on November 24, General Smith left two of its nine companies at positions just south of town to keep MSR open. Charlie/1/7 was left at Turkey Hill (Hill 1419) where the Marines dug into rather exposed positions along a rocky spur between the crest of the hill and the road. Fox/2/7 was left on the summit of an unnamed hill which was the northern side of Toktong Pass.

On the night of the initial Chinese attacks throughout the area, November 27-28, both companies were attacked and surrounded by elements of the PVA 59th Division. The next morning, at dawn, Able/1/7 and Baker/1/7 were sent to rescue Charlie Company.

Turkey Shoot At Turkey Hill — The Rescue of Charlie Company

The Relief Of Fox Hill

The Division Arrives In Hagaru-ri

Turkey Shoot At Turkey Hill — The Rescue of Charlie Company

     Joe Kurcaba formed us up at first light while the Corsairs were blazing at the enemy hills. He told us that we were going to the aid of Charlie Company, which had been posted on Turkey Hill to guard the MSR. Last night, after we had marched away from the area, the Chinese had poured out of the hills and surrounded Charlie. Charlie was fighting for its life when we went to pull them out.



     Able Company went along our left flank, proceeding on the high ground that paralleled our push down the road. We took fire from the hills to the west, but it was scattered and we quickly moved through it. Colonel Davis, forward observers from artillery and the eighty-ones [81mm mortars] and the tactical air team were all with us. The air officer told me that we had Australians flying support that day.



     Able had hard fighting on the ridgeline leading to Charlie’s embattled perimeter. They hammered through it, though, and gained a position that led down to a long spine into the perimeter. A substantial enemy force stood between them and what was left of Charlie Company.



     Baker-One-Seven suffered a few WIAs from long-range harassing fire as we attacked along the road. Lee had the lead, and when he came into sight of Turkey Hill, he halted the column and spread his platoon off the road into a firing line. Joe Kurcaba told me to set up all three mortars behind Lee.



     Through my binoculars I had a good view of Charlie’s perimeter, four hundred yards away. They were in a tight circle not more than seventy-five yards across, halfway up the slope of Turkey Hill. Chinese machine guns and rifles infested the hill around them, firing at any Marine who moved. Charlie’s people were thoroughly pinned down.



     Lee put his machine guns on the Chinese who were firing into Charlie’s perimeter from the lower slope. My three mortars had the same target. Able’s machine guns and mortars raked the hill above the perimeter.



     Soon our tracers lined the sky, and puffs of black smoke from the mortars dotted the rocky hill. Then the big shells from the artillery and the battalion’s eighty-ones started to fall and the hill rocked with their explosions. Chinese soldiers scurried for cover.



     My classmate Jim Stemple led Able’s assault down the ridgeline and into the Chinese. The enemy soldiers had their heads down from the heavy covering fire, and Stemple’s platoon tore into them. Through the binoculars I observed one squad of Stemple’s Marines led by a giant of a man in a flapping parka who swung a huge, double-headed axe. The Chinese soldiers, seeing this great, maniacal devil charging at them brandishing an bloody axe, abandoned their positions in terror.



     I gave Kelly a look through my binoculars. “Christ!” he exclaimed. “I’d run, too, if I had that ugly monster coming at me with an axe.”



     The Chinese quickly lifted their siege of Charlie Company and made a rapid retreat from Turkey Hill. As they fled Able Company’s downhill assault, they had to cross Baker’s line of fire. Woody Taylor’s platoon had come up to extend our line and every weapon we had was trained on the Chinese as they ran to the protecting slopes on the other side of the valley.



     The three companies returned to Yudam-ni. It took almost every able-bodied man that Charlie Company had to bring down their dead and wounded. Their overnight defense of Turkey Hill had cost them dearly.

The Relief Of Fox Hill

Fox Hill at nightfall on December. The 1/7 Battalion approached from Hill 1520, which was located just beyond the upper left-hand corner of the map.

The 1/7 Battalion’s next objective was the relief of Fox Company, on top of their hill, eight miles to the south. Fox Hill was surrounded by Chinese and other hills in the area were occupied by them — probably several thousand soldiers in all. Just to get to Fox Hill would require the entire battalion, so this would have to wait until the 1st MarDiv departed Yudam-ni for good. As we have seen, this happened on December 1.

Turkey Hill was an intermediate objective. It was between Yudam-ni and Fox Hill. After Charlie/1/7 had been rescued, the Chinese had occupied the hilltop. The 1/7 attacked Turkey hill first and by late afternoon had sole possession of it. After dark the battalion began to move southeast toward Hill 1520. The battalion was relying on the element of surprise – the Marines did not customarily attack at night. As the long hours of darkness went by, the 1/7 attacked and overwhelmed Chinese positions on Hill 1520, then other positions closer to Fox Hill. By dawn then next morning, the battalion had reached the top of Fox Hill and relieved Fox Company. Lieutenant Owen describes that long, cold, foggy night:

     Abel Company took the lead for the battalion attack. The Chinese put up their first stiff resistance at Turkey Hill, which they had occupied in strength after we pulled Charlie Company out of there.



     Abel had a brutal fight. The enemy knew the terrain as well as we did, and they set up a formidable defense. Abel had to work through a tangle of deep gullies and thick woods. It took them several hours to fight up the steep, slippery slopes to the top. Casualties were heavy, and all day the stretcher teams struggled to bring them off the hill. Many of Abel’s walking wounded elected to stay with their own squads after the corpsmen patched them up.



     Colonel Davis sent my sixties [mortars] over to add support to Abel’s attack, but for most of Baker-One-Seven the climbing would be worse than the fighting. We passed through Abel when they took the crest just before nightfall. The stop and start climb in the extreme cold had made it an exhausting day.



     As soon as we finished digging in and fired night registration, Joe Kurcaba summoned the company officers to the CP. Colonel Davis was there. He was clean-shaven in contrast to us shaggy-faced company lieutenants, but his features showed the same deep lines of strain and exhaustion that marked us all. The colonel traced a stick in the snow to indicate an audacious plan for attack. Baker would jump off under cover of darkness and lead the battalion in a surprise attack against the Chinese who were positioned between us and Fox Hill.



     Since we had been unable to break through in several daylight attempts along the road, the colonel reasoned that we could go overland in the dark to reach the objective. As Marines did not ordinarily attack at night, the Chinese would not expect us; surprise was the essential element of the attack.



     Our direction would be marked by star shells, fired at three-minute intervals. Silence was vital; hopefully we could walk through the defenders without being seen of heard. Joe Kurcaba gave Chen Een Lee the point.



     A blizzard had whipped up before we formed the company. The men were lethargic from cold, exertion, and lack of rest. They grumbled their disbelief that we were about to launch an attack through trackless mountains in the dark and the blowing snow. Before starting out, we had them jog in place, to check for noisy gear and to get the blood moving.



     Lee’s platoon was ready, in column at the line of departure, and my mortars fell in behind Lee, followed by the company CP and the other two platoons. Colonel Davis and his command group followed Baker, although the Colonel spend most of the night forward with us.



     Then came Abel, now as battered as we were and down to half strength. Charlie was next with only fifty men. The column’s rear guard was a composite of men from the depleted 3rd Battalion, 7th Marines, and replacements sent up from headquarters and artillery units. In all, Colonel Davis’ patched together One-Seven numbered less than five hundred Marines. Still, it made a file nearly half a mile long, an unlikely body to sneak through the encircling Chinese forces.



     The first star shell went off far to the south, silhouetting a range of high ridges, Chew Een Lee raised his good arm and signaled us forward. The column of five hundred Marines followed him into the stormy night.



     Simultaneously we heard every weapon on the Yudam-ni perimeter commence firing. [The Yudam-ni perimeter was about five air miles north, within the range of the 11th Marines’ howitzers.] Artillery and heavy mortars pounded the slopes. Small arms and machine gun fire built to a crescendo. We hoped that the massive demonstration of fire power would divert enemy attention from our path.



     Lee and his men had to plow through the heavy snow to break the trail and, at first, made it easy going for those of us who followed. The second star-shell went off, then the third, all at three-minute intervals. We had no difficulty with our bearing. Soon, though, we came to a dip in the terrain, and Lee’s view of the guiding light was obstructed. When he hadn’t seen a burst for several minutes, he called a halt to read his compass. The column stopped, producing the inevitable accordion effect. In the darkness, men stumbled into each other. Some fell into the snow beside the train. Muffled curses were quickly squelched by whispered warnings from the NCOs.



     When we moved again, we went up a steep grade. The trail became icy, packed by the feet of those ahead. Men slipped to their knees, staggered up, and slipped again. The sounds of falling and the involuntary grunts of pain and frustration grew steadily, in spite of our attempts to remain silent.



     After a time we started downhill and the star bursts were visible once more. Downhill the icy trail was even more treacherous, especially for the mortarmen and machine gunners with their cumbersome loads. Some of the men tried to sidestep their way, slowing down those who came behind. Others ventured off the trail to make their own way in untrammeled snow. They had to be brought back into the column. In the dark and blowing snow, they could easily become lost.

Exhaustion was telling on us. The falls became heavier, and it took longer for the men to pull themselves up from the snow. Curses and grunts of exasperation grew louder. We stumbled up the hills and we slid down them. We stopped and started, climbed and slipped.



     Under the heavy parkas, our bodies sweated with the strain, but our hands and feet were frozen numb. The wind-borne cold attacked with terrible fury. When we stopped for bearings, we stood silent and motionless. Because we needed to maintain silence, we could not slap our hands against our sides or stomp our feet for circulation. The cold gnawed at our toes and fingers and ate into out bodies. The sweat we had generated while climbing froze against our skin. We shivered violently. Men muttered through clenched teeth, “Let’s move out, Goddamn it! We’re freezing to death here.”



     During one long halt the frustration spewed out of Joe Kurcaba, down the column. “Find out what the hell we’re waiting for. Pass the word.”



     Each man relayed the message up the file, and their hoarse whispers threatened the silence. When the word reached me, I broke the verbal chain. I climbed forward along the column until I came upon Lee.



     In front of Lee there was only swirling snow and darkness. Not a distinguishable terrain feature was to be seen, not a tree or a rock to bear on. Lee sent two men to the limit of visibility and bore his compass on their dim shapes. He was still wearing the sling, but he had taken the mitten off his good hand to grip it.



     “Haven’t seem the star bursts for ten minutes,” Lee whispered to me. “Tell them back there we can’t go any faster unless we want to walk in circles. Or go over a cliff!”



     I returned along the side of the column. Many men had collapsed into the snow, curled into balls like Eskimo dogs. NCOs moved among the fallen, prodding and kicking, urging them to their feet. I collided with another Marine churning forward through the snow. Both of us fell, and as we wearily recovered, I realized that I had knocked down Colonel Davis.



     “What’s the holdup. Lieutanant?” was all my battalion commander said. Then he continued breaking throught the snow to the head of the column.



     Time had no meaning. We labored through infinite darkness in ghostly clouds of snow over an icy path that rose and fell but seemed to lead nowhere. We saw only the back of the man ahead, a hunched figure in a long shapeless parka, whose every tortured step was an act of will. We carried on with the only strength that was left to us, Marine Corps discipline.



     Over the noise of the wind, we heard Chinese soldiers speaking. They were no more than twenty-five yards away but we could not see them. Undoubtedly they heard us too, but in the blinding snow they mistook our column for one of their own. Certainly the Chinese commanders would be positioning troops in response to the big attack down on the MSR. The first encounter of the night went unchallenged.

     The nearby Chinese voices had an adrenaline effect. Realizing that we were in grenade range, we were charged with energy and our minds cleared. Gone was our wearied stumbling. The men became surefooted, alert. The nightmare passage we had endured through the dark, frigid storm was ended. We had reached the enemy. The men held their fire and waited for signaled orders. No unlikely noise gave away your presence.



     Lee kept his men moving in a column, climbing a rise. We were a file of dark shadows, at ten yards distance indistinguishable as friend of foe. A man lost his footing and fell with a thunderous crash, but he uttered no sound that would identify him. In the wind we caught the whiff of the garlic that often gave away the Chinese positions. The Chinese stopped talking among themselves. The only sounds were the scuffing of Marine shoe-pacs on the icy trail and the wind that howled above us.



     Suddenly, a harsh Chinese voice broke the silence. A challenge or command, it came from the crest of the steep rise ahead, no more than fifty yards up. We could see no one up there.



     Lee signaled his squads into skirmishers, extending to both sides. Quietly he led them forward on hands and knees. The enemy’s first shots came as our riflemen topped the rise. A torrent of oaths and fire erupted from the Marines as they poured across a small Chinese position. An enemy squad had been sleeping on a wide shelf of ground that jutted from a hillside. Most of them were shot in the brief firefight; one was bayoneted in his hole. A few ran off into the snow.



     There was no longer any need for silence. Lee and his NCOs bellowed orders to re-form the skirmish line, then sent the riflemen in pursuit up the hill. Light, disorganized small arms fire rained down at us. Our mortars set up on the shelf that Lee’s people had just taken. Joe Kurcaba came forward and ordered the other platoons to attack on Lee’s left flank. Colonel Davis reached us just as a barrage of grenades announced Lee’s arrival at the next Chinese position.



     The night exploded with the flash and the sound of the fight. The Marines had the advantage of surprise and momentum. They fought with fierce energy, now released from the hours of cold and misery. The Chinese could do little more than try to escape. Their position was a wide plateau studded with large granite boulders. The snowy field was pocked with small holes and rocks from which surprised Chinese emerged. Many of them were unarmed, and most ran off to the south.



     Those with weapons attempted to fight. The night was against them. Under the ghostly blue illumination from the mortars, teams of parka-clad Marines using automatic weapons, bayonets, and grenades blasted through the Chinese who stayed to face them. A few of the enemy tried to fight back with rocks; one used a huge tree limb. All were eliminated.



     A squad of mortarmen brought up their weapons to prepare for a counterattack. A few yards from their positions, shadowy figures dodged among the boulders. One of the shadows called, “No shoot! We Cholly Com’ny. We M’leen.” A volley of carbine fire took him down.



     Farther forward, the Marines ferreted out Chinese soldiers who were still concealed in holes and crevices. Lee called to them in their language, urging surrender. Some came out working their weapons and were quickly killed. A few of the weaponless responded with their hands up. They were taken prisoner and sent back to battalion for interrogation.



     Baker Company quickly secured a perimeter. Despite the prodding of the NCOs, many of the men fell asleep. Others nodded off while in the act of repeating their orders. Colonel Davis walked the line with the platoon commanders. He assured that the officers and NCOs were prepared against counterattack and ordered twenty-five percent watch, one man in four awake. No counterattack came.



     Dawn arrived, gray and cold, and we jumped off on the second phase of the breakthrough. Abel and Baker attacked on line, headed for Fox Hill, a thousand yards away. Minutes after we moved out, Kiser’s platoon, on the left, walked into heavy small arms and machine gun fire from a ridge on his flank. The sixties [Lt Owen’s mortars] responded with HE [high explosive] on the ridge, and Kiser’s people broke through deep snow to mount the hill. When they neared the ridgeline, we lifted the mortar fire, and the platoon drove through the enemy position on its own firepower.



     We were astonished by our first view of Fox Hill. The snowfield that led up to the embattled company’s position was covered with hundreds of dead Chinese soldiers. Many of them seemed asleep under blankets of drifted snow, but their bodies were frozen in spasms of pain. There were jumbles of corpses in padded green uniforms. A white-clad column had fallen in the formation that had attracted the attention of Fox Company’s machine gunners. Craters of dirt and snow made by the big guns at Hagaru-ri were rimmed with bodies and parts of men. Thick bands of dead Chinese lay at the base of Fox Company’s perimeter.



     We stood in wonder. Men bowed their heads in prayer. Some fell to their knees. Others breathed quiet oaths of disbelief. Tears came to the eyes of raggedy Marines who had endured bitter cold and savage battle to reach this place of suffering and courage.



     Someone let loose a wild cheer, and we broke forward in a jubilant run. Across the snow-covered and corpse-filled battlefield, the Marines of Fox Company waved brightly colored banners, the blue, yellow, and red remnants of the parachute drops that had sustained them nearly a week.



     Around their perimeter Fox Company had constructed barricades of frozen Chinese bodies. From behind these walls of dead, the Marines had mounted their weapons and maintained their fight against an enemy whose numbers never ceased. Now the men of Fox Company arose from behind those gruesome piles to join us. Arm slings and blood-soaked compresses were common among them. Men hobbled about with makeshift leg splints. All hands were haggard and dirty, as were we. We exchanged profane greetings that did not conceal the love that we Marines felt for each other.



     The sun came out later and Marines appeared along the skyline to the north. Then we saw Marines marchind down the MSR toward us. There were columns of riflemen at first, followed by a long trail of vehicles and artillery pieces. Our Corsairs swooped in close, their crooked wings wagging in salute. The 5th and 7th Marines had broken out of Yudam-ni.

Fox Company, like the other rifle companies in 1st MarDiv, had a little over 200 Marines assigned to it. During the five days it spent under siege, its casualties (officially) were 26 killed, 89 wounded, and 3 missing. Six of the seven officers had been wounded, including the company commander, Captain William Barber. He received the Medal of Honor for his actions during the PVA siege. LtCol Raymond Davis, the commander of 1/7, also received a Medal of Honor for his successful relief of Fox Hill.

One of the Marines who was there with Fox Company, Harry Burke, a bazooka gunner from Minnesota, had the following to say:

When I left after five days, 83 of us out of the 240 were able to walk away. We left a lot of our dead up there, sorry to say. All of them weren't wounds. But a majority of 'em were wounded, but some of them, they just got so cold they couldn't walk any more.

Later that morning, December 1, the 1/7 battalion and those Marines of Fox Company still able to fight secured the entire Toktong Pass area. This was the only real chokepoint on the road between Yudam-ni and Hagaru-ri, so the way out was essentially clear.

The Division Arrives In Hagaru-ri

As the afternoon of December 1 went by, General Song realized that there couldn’t be very many Marines still in Yudam-ni. He scrambled his 79th Division to resume attacks there that night. The ferocious fighting forced the rear covering forces still in Yudam-ni to call in night fighters to suppress the attacks. The fighting lasted well into the morning of December 2 when the last of the Marines managed to withdraw from Yudam-ni.

Although the road itself was now open between Yudam-ni and Hagaru-ri, the convoy still had to fight past numerous Chinese positions on the hills overlooking the road. On the first night of the retreat, the Chinese struck the convoy in force and inflicted heavy casualties upon the 3/5 battalion. Although strong air cover suppressed most of the Chinese forces for the rest of the march, the cold weather, harassing fire, raiding parties, and road blocks slowed the retreat to a crawl while inflicting numerous casualties. Despite those difficulties, the convoy reached Hagaru-ri in an orderly fashion. The first elements arrived there during the afternoon of December 3. The last elements arrived there early the next morning. Lieutenant Owen describes the arrival of the division at Hagaru-ri:

The 1st MarDiv approaches Hagaru-ri. The dead ride; everyone physically capable of walking did so.

The rifle companies of the 5th and 7th Marines stayed in the hills, guarding the MSR as the column pulled into Hagaru-ri. The garrison of the town came out to meet the bedraggled Marines who had run the fourteen-mile gauntlet of fire and ice. There were trucks and jeeps with their windshields shot away and their hoods and sides peppered with bullet holes and gashed by shrapnel. Wounded men were stuffed in layers in the backs of trucks; others were lashed across the hoods or tied to the fenders. There were many more trucks filled with corpses than had started the journey.



     As the walking wounded came within sight of the town, someone commanded them to fall into ranks. Maybe it was the limping sergeant who gave the command, the old salt who had set the defenses along Bob Fisher’s stretch of the column; it could have been Father Griffin. Or Sergeant Winget or Corporal Burris or Corporal Johnson.



     The wounded men, and some who were unharmed but who staggered from exhaustion, formed up into three files, shouldered their weapons, and marched in ragged step. Slowly, the tread of their thick, rubber-soled shoe-pacs on the icy road became a steady, sure cadence, and the haggard and hurt Marines put their heads high.



     Captain Wilcox, who couldn’t carry a weapon, was in the forward ranks. His arm was in a huge cast and splinted so that it was horizontal to the deck; his head and face were a cocoon of bandages. But holding himself erect, he picked up the cadence and marched standing straight into Hagaru-ri.



     A battalion surgeon took time away from the hundreds of wounded men he tended in the Hagaru-ri aid station to witness the column’s arrival. “Those bastards! Those magnificent bastards!” were the words the doctor used to describe the worn and torn Marines from Yudam-ni.

The Marines brought out about 1400 casualties, of whom about one third were non-battle (almost all frostbite,) all of whom were to be evacuated by US Air Force aircraft from the newly-constructed air strip.

The next stop was Koto-ri, eleven miles to the south. To get there still required passing through Hell-Fire Valley, and there were still soldiers from about six Chinese divisions in the hills overlooking the valley.

Next Part

Part 12: Break Out

Previous Parts

Part 6: Into The Trap - Koto-ri To Toktong Pass

Part 8: The Chinese Spring Their Trap

Part 9: Task Force MacLean/Faith - A Tragedy In Five Days

Part 10: An Entirely New War

My Father At Frozen Chosin -- Part 10: An Entirely New War

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Community (This content is not subject to review by Daily Kos staff prior to publication.)

Monday March 27, 2017 · 11:00 AM PDT

2017/03/27 · 11:00

Marines moving south from Yudam-ni, near Toktong Pass.

“An Entirely New War”
The Siege of Hagaru-ri
Task Force Drysdale
Breakout From Yudam-ni

“An Entirely New War”

On November 29, General Almond reported as ordered to General MacArthur. General Walker, commander of the Eight Army, had received identical orders and was there as well. The three generals had a somber meeting. MacArthur was beginning to realize what was happening to his armies in North Korea. Military historian Clay Blair quoted him as saying, or paraphrased it – I’m not sure, “The wine of victory has turned to vinegar.” (This does sound like MacArthur – grandiose and quasi-Biblical.)

Blair wrote that MacArthur, “had been outsmarted and outgeneraled by a ‘bunch of Chinese laundrymen’ who had no close air support, no tanks and very little artillery, modern communication or logistical infrastructure.” MacArthur’s post-Inchon commands had added up to “an arrogant, blind march to disaster.”

After the meeting, MacArthur sent a message to the Joint Chiefs. They now faced, he wrote, “an entirely new war. This command has done everything humanly possible within its capabilities but is now faced with conditions beyond its control and strength.”

In other words, “It’s not my fault.”

The outcome of the meeting was simple, and inevitable. Almond and Walker had new orders – withdraw your forces. General Walker already was doing this – he had no choice, really. The shattered remains of the Eighth Army were already streaming south from the Chongchon River, and would keep going until they were in the vicinity of Seoul. General Almond’s X Corps (both the 1st MarDiv and RCT-31 at Chosin and the 3rd and 7th Infantry Divisions and the ROK II Corps scattered all over eastern North Korea) would retreat to the Hungnam area, where they would establish a strong, defensible perimeter. They would remain there until the Navy could get a sufficient armada in place to evacuate them to sea.

General Smith had been waiting for such an order and was more than ready to escape the trap he had been heading into for nearly a month. The problem for him was that the trap had many sets of jaws. At the moment, most of his division was still in Yudam-ni, surrounded on all sides by Chinese. Meanwhile, Hagaru-ri, fourteen miles south, was in terrible danger.

The Siege of Hagaru-ri

Hagaru-ri was a meant to be a fortress. At least that was the idea. Two weeks earlier, when the 1st MarDiv had begun arriving here, General Smith had set up a large supply dump and begun building an airfield. These were necessary to support his division’s continuing advance. At that time, Smith, as always anticipating the trap, was thinking of being able to withdraw RCT-5 and RCT-7 from their forward locations at the inlet and Yudam-ni respectively back to Hagaru-ri if necessary. Smith had brought the 3/1 Battalion with him to Hagaru-ri, and stationed it there to defend against attack. In Lieutenant Owen’s words, the rest of Hagaru-ri’s garrison consisted of…

...hundreds of rear echelon people who had reverted to riflemen. For three days and nights, the cooks and bakers, the truck drivers and artillerymen, the office pinkies and technicians dug in alongside the infantry Marines.

These Marines had all been trained as combat infantrymen, but up to now had not had to partipate directly in combat operations. They would have to do so now. They were part of the garrison force in a very dangerous and strategically important spot. Their numeric strength was about that of a battalion, which meant that Hagaru-ri would be defended by two battalions – less than 2,000 men. A Chinese division had them in its sights. I’m sure Smith would have liked a stronger garrison force, but this was all he could spare.

     General Song had planned to have his 58th Division attack Hagaru-ri at the same time as all the other Ninth Army attacks, in the early hours of November 28, but it ran into trouble. They were using old Japanese maps and got lost in the countryside. They didn’t actually commence their attack against Hagaru-ri until dawn. The garrison commander, LtCol Thomas Ridge, was fully aware of the attacks that were going on all around him. He figured the PVA would attack his position at any time, but he ended up getting about six hours warning. He put virtually everyone in the garrison into defensive positions in a perimeter around Hagaru-ri before the 58th Division even got there. They were as ready as they could be.

     A little after dawn, one PVA regiment attacked the perimeter on the southern and western sides, while another one attacked the hills on the northern perimeter. Despite LtCol Ridge’s preparations, his garrison was overwhelmed. The Chinese opened several gaps in the defenses and reaching the rear areas. The resulting chaos, however, caused a breakdown in discipline among the Chinese soldiers, who began looting food and clothing instead of exploiting the situation. (It wasn’t really bad discipline – the Chinese soldiers were freezing, just like the Americans were, but they were also starving.)

American forces defending the perimeter counterattacked and managed to destroy the Chinese forces which had infiltrated. Communications between the Chinese regiments broke down. They didn’t exploit the gaps in the perimeter thay had opened, and American forces were able to close those gaps. When the fighting stopped, the Chinese had gained only a single hill on the northern perimeter called, for some reason, “East Hill.”

Another attack against Hagaru-ri was planned for that night (November 28̀-29) but Marine air raids during the daylight hours broke up the Chinese positions around the town before this could be carried out.

Task Force Drysdale

      As we have already seen, Hagaru-ri was critically important to General Smith. The only exit to the south from the reservoir began there. But LtCol Ridge’s garrison was dangerously undermanned. On November 29, while daylight Marine air raids were still underway, Smith ordered the commander of RCT-1, Chesty Puller, to assemble a task force and send it from his position in Koto-ri to Hagaru-ri.

      Colonel Puller hastily assembled a task force. With a strength of 962 men, it was approximately battalion-sized. It consisted of troops from the UK 41st Royal Marine Commandos, USMC George/3/1 and USA Baker/1/31 The task force was dubbed "Task Force Drysdale" after its commander, LtCol Douglas Drysdale, who was the commander of the 41st Commandos. (This is, I think, the first time US troops served in a unit commanded by an foreign officer.)

On the afternoon of November 29, Task Force Drysdale pushed north from Koto-ri while under constant attack from the PVA 60th Division (which outnumbered the Task Force about ten to one.) As the Chinese attacks dragged on, the task force became disorganized, then was split into two segments. The lead segment of the task force managed to fight its way into Hagaru-ri that night. The rear segment was destroyed. Overall, the Task Force brought about 300 badly needed infantrymen to Hagaru-ri, but they suffered 162 dead and 159 wounded. The task force's harrowing experience later earned this stretch of the MSR the nickname "Hell Fire Valley".

More reinforcements arrived from Hudong-ni the next day, November 30. These were the eighteen surviving tanks from the 31st Tank Company and RTC-31 command post personnel that had come south from Hudong-ni. The combined garrison forces attempted to recapture East Hill. All efforts failed despite the destruction of a Chinese company. When darkness settled, the PVA 58th Division gathered its remaining 1,500 soldiers in a last-ditch attempt to capture Hagaru-ri. The reinforced defenders annihilated most of the attacking forces, with only the defenses around East Hill giving way. As the Chinese tried to advance from East Hill, they were cut down by the tanks.

USAF C-47 takes off from the Hagaru-ri airfield.

By the next day, December 1, the PVA 58th Division was virtually destroyed. The remainder was awaiting reinforcements from the Ninth Army (the PVA 80th and 81st Divisions as mentioned above.) They came, but not in time. Later that day the airfield was opened to traffic, allowing UN forces to bring in fresh troops and evacuate the dead and wounded. According to Major General Field Harris, who was in charge of Marine air operations, 4,500 casualties would eventually be evacuated from the airfield at Hagaru-ri.

Hagaru-ri was safe. It would not be lost.

Breakout From Yudam-ni

Meanwhile, on November 29, after two nights of hard fighting and a day of artillery and air support counterattack, the PVA forces at Yudam-ni, particularly the 79th Division, had suffered heavy losses. General Song, the Ninth Army commander, finally realized he was facing most of the US 1st MarDiv at Yudam-ni.

Here we see again that the PVA was hindered by poor intelligence, both collection and analysis. General Song had originally thought that that the Yudam-ni garrison was smaller, one infantry regiment instead of the two that were actually there. He also thought that the garrisons at the inlet and at Hagaru-ri garrison were both larger than they actually were, at least a regiment in each place. He made his own troop dispositions based on faulty intelligence. The Yudam-ni garrison survived everything he threw at it. By rights, the garrisons at the inlet and at Hagaru-ri both should have fallen by November 29. The inlet lasted until December 2 before it collapsed, Hagaru-ri was relieved on December 1. So, at a cost of about five divisions, General Song had little to show for it except the destruction of RCT-31.

On November 29, General Song determined that any further direct assaults against the Marine positions at Yudam-ni would be both futile and costly. He knew that the Marines would have to leave Yudam-ni sooner or later, and that their only possible route was to go back the way they had come. Song felt that the 1st MarDiv would be easier to deal with while strung out along fourteen miles of narrow road between Yudam-ni and Hagaru-ri, with his Army waiting in ambush. General Song ordered his divisions (those not already tied up at Hagaru-ri and the inlet) to move to locations overlooking this road to await the Marines when they came by.

One division, the 59th, was already in place. Unfortunately for General Song, it was also very busy. Back on the night of November 27-28, the 59th Division had surrounded a single Marine company, Fox/2/7, which had been on top of a hill in Toktong Pass. They were still there, two days later, successfully holding back the 59th.

General Song’s decision gave General Smith some much needed breathing room. He had received his new orders from General Almond on November 29 – to pull the 1st MarDiv out of its perimeter at Yudam-ni and return to Hagaru-ri.

I don’t know if Smith was aware that Song had already begun shifting his forces into the same area, but I suspect that he was. He was very shrewd when it came to anticipating the enemy. Smith knew there would be tough fighting ahead. Someone mentioned the word “retreat” to General Smith, who was reported to have replied, “Retreat, Hell! We’re not retreating. We’re just attacking in another direction.”

This was a little wartime exaggeration. General Smith’s initials (O.P.) were the basis for his nickname, “Old Professor.” He was a careful and thoughtful man. What he actually said was, essentially, that if one’s force is completely surrounded, then one is attacking no matter in which direction one is headed. The newspapers preferred the more flamboyant wording, and the public, which was well aware if the division’s plight, ate it up. They also enjoyed a comment made at around the same time by Chesty Puller, commander of the 1st Marines, who obligingly told war correspondents, “We've been looking for the enemy for several days now. We finally found them. We're surrounded. That simplifies our problem of finding these people and killing them."

According to Lt Owen:

     Joe Kurcaba returned from a meeting with Colonel Davis and the other company commanders to tell us that the Marines were pulling out of Yudam-ni. We were heading back to Hagaru-ri where the 3rd Battalion of the 1st Marines and some Army troops had a stronghold. Our battalion, One-Seven, would attack east of the MSR to break through the Chinese, who held almost all of the fourteen miles to Hagaru-ri and the high ground that commanded it. In parallel columns the battalions of the 5th Marines would hit along the MSR and the hills to the west.



     The enemy did not hold Toktong Pass, the highest point in the route. Fox Company of the 7th Marines occupied that vital terrain. They had fought off two regiments of Chinese attackers for three days and three nights to keep it in Marine hands. Toktong Pass was now known as Fox Hill; it was our main objective, eight miles away through mountains and thousands of Chinese soldiers.  [“...three days and three nights...” as of December 1.]

The breakout started in the morning of December 1. The division formed a convoy which would travel down the MSR. In front was a single Sherman Tank. Immediately behind the tank, acting as the Division’s vanguard, was the 3/5 Battalion. There were three more battalions covering the rear.

There were two hills flanking the road about halfway between Yudam-ni and Toktong Pass, Hill 1542, on the west side of the MSR, and Hill 1419, on the east side of the MSR. (Hill 1419 was “Turkey Hill.”) The PVA had already established positions consisting of remnants of the 59th Division on top of these hills. From these positions, they could fire down at the Marine column moving south on the MSR. The 3/7 Battalion was tasked with attacking and capturing Hill 1542, while the 1/7 Battalion was tasked with Hill 1419. Air cover would be provided by the 1st Marine Air Wing, flying from Wonsan, about 100 air miles away.

The 3/7 engaged the PVA troops atop of Hill 1542. The tenacious defenders soon forced the Marines to dig in on the slopes between the road and the peak when the convoy began passing 3/7's position that afternoon. Despite this initial setback, Hill 1542 fell that night.

At the same time, the 1/7 attacked the PVA position on Hill 1419, consisting of the last five platoons remaining from the 59th Division. They also refused to yield, but, as night approached, the Marines captured the hill. How/3/7 spent the night on Hill 1419, but 1/7 continued to march southeast through the hills on the east side of the road. Their goal now was relief of Fox Company, and it was getting dark.

Next Part

Part 11: The Relief Of Fox Company

Previous Parts

Part 1: Introduction

Part 6: Into The Trap - Koto-ri To Toktong Pass

Part 5: Where Have All The Chinese Gone?

Part 9: Task Force MacLean/Faith - A Tragedy In Five Days

Part 8: The Chinese Spring Their Trap

My Father At Frozen Chosin -- Part 9: Task Force MacLean/Faith - A Tragedy In Five Days

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Sunday March 26, 2017 · 10:30 AM PDT

2017/03/26 · 10:30

9-Inlet_And_Hill_1221_Seen_From_1-32_Battalion_Area.jpg — View south of Hill 1221 across "The Inlet" -- seen from the LtCol Faith's 1/32 Battalion area

The 1st MarDiv wasn’t the only UN force at the Chosin Reservoir. There was also a much smaller Army unit, RCT-31, all by itself on the eastern side of the reservoir. Their story has been eclipsed the larger story of the 1st MarDiv, but it is perhaps more tragic. My father, who was at Yudam-ni when the PVA attacked during the night of November 27-28, was himself aware that the Army unit across the reservoir was also being attacked. He didn’t know any details, but he knew they were there.

RCT-31 was nearly annihilated – about 90% of its soldiers were killed, captured, or wounded so severely they could no longer fight. Some are still missing to this day. Yet the five days they fought against the Chinese PVA were marked with unimaginable heroism and immense personal sacrifice. As much as any Marine, RCT-31 was responsible for the Marines’ successful breakout from the Chosin Reservoir.

As we have already seen, General MacArthur’s “Home-by-Christmas Offensive” directed the Marines’ RCT-5 to vacate its positions near “the inlet” on the east side of the reservoir and move to Yudam-ni, where it would join with RCT-7. The combined forces would then commence a major attack to the west early on November 27. This would leave X Corps’ left flank completely open. There were several access routes from China itself to the MSR, over which PVA troops could pass to attack X Corps’ left flank quickly and in strength. To protect against this, General Almond hurriedly created a regiment-sized force, RCT-31. It would move into the area where the RCT-5 had been, north and south of the inlet. RCT-31 was a hodgepodge of 7th Infantry Division units, pulled together from whatever was handy. (It was not part of the 1st MarDiv, even though they were much closer together than RCT-31 was to any other 7th Infantry Division unit.) The component units were:

The 2/31 (*), 3/31, and 1/32 Infantry Battalions (note that these came from two different regiments,)

Three batteries (*) of the 57th Field Artillery (FA) Battalion. (The 57th FA Battalion had four batteries in all. Three of them had twelve 105mm howitzers. The fourth had twelve 155mm howitzers.)

One platoon of Battery D, 15th Antiaircraft Battalion.

31st Tank Company, which had 22 tanks.

(* The 2/31 and one of the three batteries of the 57th FA Battalion were still in the vicinity of Hungnam, about 60 sixty miles away, when the battle broke out. They did not participate in the battle. This reduced RCT-31's strength by about one third, though in the end I don’t think this would have made much difference.)

All together there were about 3,300 soldiers in RCT-31, of whom about 650 were ROK troops. Had the missing units been there, the RCT strength would have been about 4,500 men – a good-sized RCT, but still smaller than RCT-5.

The Commander of RCT-31 was Col Allen MacLean, whose previous command had been the 31st Infantry Regiment, which furnished many of the new RCT’s units . LtCol Don C. Faith was the commander of the 1/32 Infantry Battalion. At first, RCT-31 was nicknamed “Task Force MacLean.” Later it became known as “Task Forth Faith,” and it is by this latter name it is remembered by history. I prefer “Task Forth MacLean/Faith” because both its commanders were killed in action during the five days’ battle in this lonely place.

RCT-31 positions at midnight November 27-28 (in blue) and initial Chinese attacks (in Red.)

The lead elements of RCT-31 moved into this area on November 27. When they stopped for the night, the RCT was actually divided into three widely separated formations.

1. In the area north of the inlet was the 1/32 Infantry Battalion, commanded by LtCol Don C. Faith. The anti-aircraft platoon was in this location. The Chinese had no aircraft, but the 40mm anti-aircraft guns could be fired horizontally at advancing troops.

2. South of the inlet (about four miles behind the 1/32) was the 3/31 Infantry Battalion and two of the three FA batteries.

These two formations did establish basic defensive positions for the night, but their commanders were not expecting any enemy activity. Consequently, neither formation set up a tight perimeter with 360 degree security. They were sitting ducks for the PVA when it attacked in the early hours of November 28.

     3. Another eight miles further back, in the village of Hudong, was the third formation, consisting of the 31st Tank Company, which had 22 tanks, and the RCT-31 command post.

     The missing units were missing for two reasons: the very short time frame allowed for assembly of RCT-31 and the fact that its constituent units were widely spread out all over northeastern North Korea. General Almond seemed to have a problem keeping his forces coherently organized.

The initial Chinese attack was the “pyrotechnics” that Lieutenant Owen saw from ten miles away, on the other side of the frozen reservoir. Within the first 24 hours of the initial Chinese attack in the early hours of November 28, RCT-31 lost about one half of its available strength. More than 1,000 troops were dead, including many of the senior officers and NCOs. 400 were wounded and 300 were captured.

During the afternoon of November 28, General Almond came in by helicopter to encourage RCT-31's officers to continue the offensive. According to David Halberstam...

     ...Almond seemed oblivious to the fact that a critical part of his command was being annihilated. [Lt Col Faith] tried to explain how desperate their situation actually was: they were being hit by two entire Chinese divisions. “That’s impossible,” Almond said. “There aren’t two Chinese divisions in all of North Korea!” The enemy who was attacking them, he said, was nothing more than the remnants of Chinese forces fleeing north. “We’re still attacking and we’re going all the way to the Yalu. Don’t let a bunch of goddamn Chinese laundrymen stop you!” He thereupon ordered Faith to retake the high ground he had lost the previous night.



     He then awarded Lt Col Faith and two other men (picked – by random – by Faith) a Silver Star in an impromptu ceremony. Faith picked a wounded lieutenant and a mess sergeant who just happened to be passing by. Almond presented each his medal, then flew back to Hagaru-ri. Faith’s operations officer walked over to Faith and asked him what the General had said. Faith replied, “You heard him, remnants fleeing north.” He then ripped his medal off and threw it into the snow. “What a damned travesty!” he was heard to say.

General Almond refused to see the evidence that a major attack was occurring. As Corps commander, he had a responsibility to have some idea of enemy strength and location before making command decisions. He didn’t have any idea about these things – no one did – but he disregarded the importance of this ignorance. To him – as to MacArthur – Chinese soldiers were second-rate and

would never be any match for American soldiers. I think his best course of action would have been to consolidate and strengthen his positions, secure their supply lines, and make every effort to locate the enemy’s strength and position, at least generally, before advancing further. In other words, exactly the same things that General Smith was doing with the 1st MarDiv.

If I had to enter a darkened room which was occupied by either a house cat or a lion, I would try to find out which one was there and its approximate location before going in. That’s just common sense. Almond already knew he had the lion – this was established by RCT-31's horrifying casualties after just one night, plus what was going on at Yudam-ni –- and at the Chongchon River — but he blithely assumed the Chinese were “fleeing” north, despite all evidence to the contrary.

While General Almond was in Hudong-ni, the Chinese could be seen, by both soldiers on the ground and in Marine pilots in the air. They were steadily moving south in the hills beyond RCT-31’s perimeter and surrounding it, preparing to attack again that night. If the PVA had really been evacuating en masse, they would have been observed moving away. As the day went on, the Chinese didn’t leave, and darkness would be upon them soon.

All I can say in defense of General Almond was that he was following orders from his boss, General MacArthur. MacArthur was such a big personality, so overpowering, so sure of his “rightness,” that Almond was swept along by what the Great Man said. Almond also had his own reputation for being a very aggressive commander. Someone once said of him, “When the situation calls for aggression, he is aggressive. When the situation calls for caution, he is aggressive.” He may even have been delusional, but I doubt it. Anyway, whatever Almond said at this point did not matter. RCT-31 had already been so badly mauled that it really had no ability to mount any offensive action. It would be lucky to survive.

David Halberstam is less kind. He writes:

     With the great offensive, Ned Almond had gotten his last career command, the one he had so badly wanted, and he had been slow indeed in coming to terms with the hopelessness of it, and to tell his superior that it was in effect a failure. As late as November 28, three and a half days into the great Chinese attack, Almond was still refusing to admit the catastrophe it had become and still pushing the Tenth Corps forces to advance. At noon that day [just before he met with Col MacLean in Hudong] he choppered up to Smith’s headquarters at Hagaru-ri to give one of his patented pep talks. Smith paid as little attention as he could. He was busy consolidating his Marine division, already dangerously close to being entrapped, for what he hoped would be a breakout to the south. To the Marines, there was something almost crazed about Almond then, as if he were commanding an Army still on a great victory march, when in fact it was facing total annihilation. Part of it, they were convinced, was his own subconscious racism, which blinded him to the ability of the enemy.



     “There was a disrespect for them as soldiers, a belief that they had been fleeing from us because they should be fleeing from us, not because they might be setting a trap – whereas we who were fighting them and had been fighting them from early November knew how good they were – that’s where the phrase ‘laundrymen’ came from. It was pure racism. It was as if the only person in Tenth Corps who did not know how good they were and how dangerous our position had become was the Tenth Corps commander,” said Major Jim Lawrence, a battalion executive officer in those days.

After his visit with MacLean, General Almond returned to Hagaru-ri, apparently believing that his “eloquent words” had convinced RCT-31 commanders that they were strong enough to attack and deal with whatever "remnants" of PVA were in their way. Waiting for him there was a summons to come immediately to MacArthur’s headquarters in the Dai Ichi Palace in Tokyo. The Great Man never once spent a night in Korea – the closest he came was spending the afternoon in Inchon harbor and on the beach during the landings.

1/31 prepares to pull back from its exposed position north of “the inlet.”

During the second night, the PVA attacked again, with greater force. They used NKPA tanks and self-propelled guns against LtCol Faith’s 1/32 Infantry. The 1/32 was still in its exposed, isolated position, entirely on its own. The PVA nearly overran their position. The temperature dropped that night and it began to snow. Some troops froze to death in their foxholes. The next morning, November 29, Faith’s artillery and Marine air were able to destroy the NKPA tanks and artillery. Colonel MacLean decided to pull the 1/32 from its position north of the inlet back into his perimeter with his other units, to provide a unified defense behind a single perimeter. It was easier to defend one perimeter.

While the 1/32 was moving south toward him, Col MacLean saw what he thought were his long-awaited reinforcements approaching from his south. Strangely, as they were approaching his perimeter, they were also firing at it. MacLean thought this was a “friendly fire” situation. He went out to meet them and learned too late that it was a Chinese detachment. They shot MacLean several times and took him prisoner; he died four days later. It is unclear whether he died of his wounds or from Chinese mistreatment. LtCol Faith took command of RCT-31 and finished establishing the defensive perimeter that Col MacLean had started.

The tanks parked at Hudong-ni proved to be ineffective. The terrain was not suitable for their use. The Chinese had occupied Hill 1221, which overlooked the section of the MSR just south of 3/31’s position. As long as the Chinese were there, nothing could move either way on the road. (The north side of Hill 1221 is shown at in the photo at the top of this diary.)

The tanks were used in an attempt drive the Chinese off the hill. They couldn’t climb it; several capsized in the attempt. The surviving tanks returned to Hudong-ni. When they got there, they and the RCT-31 CP troops were ordered to pull out and withdraw to Hagaru-ri, which was also being attacked and was in danger of being lost to the Chinese. If Hagaru-ri fell, then all US forces on both sides of the Chosin Reservoir area would be entirely trapped. However, this withdrawal left Faith’s position at the inlet completely exposed to attack from the south.

With the help of massive air support, without which RCT-31 would already have been overwhelmed on November 29, they were able to maintain this position for two more days, fighting off nearly continuous PVA assaults against their positions and inflicting severe losses on the PLA 80th and 81st Divisions. All attacks on the perimeter were repulsed, but RCT-31 continued taking heavy casualties. LtCol Faith realized he was on his own, and that, aside from Marine air attacks in the daytime, he would receive no additional aid or reinforcements. The Chinese realized this too.

On December 1, Faith began evacuating the remnants of RCT-31 south along the road back to Hagaru-ri. On the way they ran into Chinese roadblocks and hilltop positions. There was fierce fighting and more casualties. LtCol Faith was himself severely wounded by a Chinese grenade and soon died from his wounds. Marine air attacks proceeded throughout the afternoon, attacking and destroying the Chinese positions. In one incident, Marine air mistakenly napalmed some RCT-31 troops. As it got dark, the air support ended. The Chinese renewed their attack for the fifth night in a row. At this point, RCT-31 disintegrated entirely. The troops fled west, off the road, onto the frozen surface of the Reservoir itself. Once there, they headed south toward Hagaru-ri, still several miles off.

To quote historian Max Hastings from his book The Korean War:

Task Force MacLean/Faith survivors on the frozen Chosin

Among a host of tragic spectacles that MacArthur’s forces were to behold that Korean Winter, the arrivals of the survivors of the 7th Division’s “Task Force Faith” at Hagaru remained one of the most vivid. Across the great sweep of ice covering the reservoir, the Marines on the perimeter saw handfuls of men stumbling, limping, even crawling. Some were without weapons. Most had lost their equipment. Many were at the extremities of frostbite. “Some of these men were dragging themselves on the ice,” wrote a Marine officer, “some had gone crazy and were walking in circles. It was pitiful.” The Marines hauled sledges out onto the reservoir, and brought in all the soldiers they could find.

About 1,050 survivors managed to make it to the Marine lines at Hagaru-ri; of these only 385 were able to continue fighting. These 385 soldiers were formed into a provisional battalion, the 31/7, which was an operational part of RCT-7 for the duration of the breakout.

At the time, the RCT-31's actions were seen as a failure. Many historians now recognize that Task Force MacLean/Faith successfully blocked the Chinese drive along the east side of Chosin for five days. This kept the PVA 80th and 81st Divisions from joining the PVA 58th Division already besieging Hagaru-ri. Had the Chinese had three divisions available for the siege, Hagaru-ri would almost certainly have fallen. The 1st MarDiv, which did not leave Yudam-ni until December 1, would have been trapped and eventually destroyed. General Song did eventually get his divisions to the Hagaru-ri area, but they were a day too late. They were also considerably weaker. Being subjected to five days of attacks by Marine Air while in the open in the hills around RCT-31's positions came close to destroying these two divisions.

The siege of Hagaru-ri will be covered in the next section.

In recognition of their exceptional valor, Task Force MacLean/Faith was finally awarded a Presidential Unit Citation in September 1999 (49 years after the fact!) LtCol Faith was awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor for his bravery.

Next Part

Part 10: An Entirely New War

Prior Part

Part 6: Into The Trap -- Koto-ri To Toktong Pass

Part 8: The Chinese Spring Their Trap

My Father At Frozen Chosin -- Part 8: The Chinese Spring Their Trap

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Saturday March 25, 2017 · 9:00 AM PDT

2017/03/25 · 09:00

Artist's conception of Chinese attack on 1st MarDiv position in Yudam-ni

The Marines Attack To The West And Get Stuffed

First Night In Hell — UN Positions

First Night In Hell — The Chinese Attack
Chinese Attack At Yudam-ni

The Marines Attack To The West And Get Stuffed

At dawn on November 27, General Smith and his division were preparing to mount their attack to the west, in accordance with MacArthur’s “Home-by-Christmas Offensive” orders. It was 20 degrees below zero, colder still in exposed places where there was a stiff north wind. The companies of RCT-7 would be moving through the hills on either side of the road into the west. The battalions of RCT-5 were still arriving at Yudam-ni during that icy morning. They would move to the western road as soon as they arrived and commence their own advance to the west. Mupyong-ni was fifty miles away.

Lieutenant Owen describes that frigid dawn...

     The men were cold and aching even before we mounted out, and a day-long, company-sized patrol lay ahead. [...] A wireman, stringing a telephone line from battalion, said that at least three Chinese divisions were coming at us. Thirty thousand troops. As it turned out, there were many more than that.



     We went along the high ground to cover the 5th Marines left flank as they made the main attack to the west. We had already patrolled the rough terrain that the 5th had to cover, and we knew they had a difficult time ahead.



     We climbed through heavy snow. The cold was forgotten as we struggled upward in our awkward gear. The skipper had placed Woody Taylor’s platoon up front. Headquarters people and the tactical air [control] team followed Taylor, the 2nd Platoon, the mortars, and Kiser’s platoon. Lee’s arm was festering badly, and he was back at the aid station on Captain Wilcox’s orders. Sergeant O’Brien had the [machine gun] platoon for the day.



     The road was an hour behind us, and we had encountered no enemy. Kelly, though, insisted they were there. “[Chinese] all around us. I can feel them up there. Lots of ‘em.”



     I saw no sign of them until we took a chow break.



     On the break the men sprawled on either side of the trail that the forward squads stomped through the snow. They fumbled with their ration cans. Body heat, trapped inside several layers of clothing, had kept them warm.



     “Up there! Look!” Kelly nudged me. A ridgeline at five hundred yards southwest was lined with Chinese soldiers peering down at us.



     We all saw them at the same time. The men scrambled to the ready. Before the mortars began to thump, we heard heavy fire from the front of the column. Captain Wilcox passed the word on the walkie-talkies. Form a perimeter and prepare to repel the boarders!

     Woody Taylor rammed his platoon forward. He formed skirmishers and went up the slope at the far end of the column, a move that, for the moment, took the pressure off the remainder of the column.

The Chinese moved down from the ridgelines all around us. They ran across the snow in squad columns, then formed firing lines among the boulders or prone in the snow.



     Hugo Johnson spotted a moving column at three hundred yards. Holding the bipod, he led the target with the tube, and, on command, dropped a round of HE [high explosive]. We watched the shell arc, then saw it fall precisely in the middle of the Chinese squad.



     There was no explosion, the direct hit was another dud. The Chinese squad, unharmed, continued its move through the snow. We cursed in disgust. Johnson spit a gob of brown tobacco juice in the direction of the Chinese.



     When the Chinese first hit us, Captain Wilcox was up forward, with the tactical air control party with him. Sgt Joe Hedrick, who was leading the air liaison that day, was not able to bring the Corsairs to our immediate assistance. They were working full-time in support of the main effort, the 5th Marines attack two thousand yards north of us.



     The captain came back from the forward line to set up a CP [command post] in the middle of the perimeter. Taylor hadn’t been able to reach the high ground ahead of us and was working his way back, holding off the Chinese from that end. O’Brien’s platoon had set up along our left flank, and Kiser made a semicircle around our rear. I took the mortar men who weren’t on the guns, along with all the company headquarters people I could find and strung them in a line to cover the right flank, a tie between Taylor and Kiser.



     Pat Burris’ gun [mortar] was behind Kiser’s line, and he and Jack Gallapo, Kiser’s runner, spotted targets for the mortar. Under heavy fire they both stood, acting as aiming stakes, and called range to Perkins and Bifulk on the tube. Gallapo nailed a machine gun at two hundred yards, relieving much of the enemy pressure on that sector.



     We had no machine guns [large tripod-mounted machines guns] of our own on my stretch of the line, but the mortarmen and the headquarters people had taken BARs [Browning Automatic Rifles – a light shoulder-fired machine gun] from the early casualties, so we had some fire power to defend against a direct assault. Chinese mortars began to fall on us and on the CP, which was fifty yards behind us. A round exploded close by and lifted me off the ground. I was dazed for a while and when full awareness returned, Kelly had me by the arm, leading me toward the CP.



     “Where are we going. Kelly?” I didn’t understand why we were heading away from the line.



     “Get a corpsman to look at you. I thought you were a goner back there.” He pointed at my parka, flapping around my knees; it had shrapnel holes in it. “They don’t get any closer than that to tearing your balls off. It’s a good thing you got me around, Lieutenant.”



     The corpsmen at the CP were far too busy with the seriously wounded to tend my mild concussion. The casualties lay in blanket-covered rows. Doktorsky, Davis, and Toppel went from one to another; they jabbed morphine, slowed bleeding, cleaned out holes blasted in flesh, patched them, and wrapped them up as best they could. The corpsmen had their mouths filled with syrettes of morphine [to keep them from freezing] and their bare hands were bloody. They worked with mortars exploding, bullets stabbing the air two feet above them, and weak, frightened voices called for their help.



     Don Mickens from the 1st Platoon took some shrapnel, then later a .25 slug in the leg as he was patching WIAs on Woody Taylor’s line. The stretcher-bearers dragged Mickens to the CP and laid him in the line of casualties. Next to him, damning the Chinese in his Arkansas drawl, was Platoon Sergeant King, who had been blasted by grenades and hit by a burp gun. Paul Rendon, a machine gunner with the platoon, lay there too. The first platoon was rapidly being depleted, and it was having a hell of a fight holding its end of the perimeter.



     Bob Fisher had taken charge of the stretcher bearers, a dozen men who were not on the firing line. They crawled up or scurried low to the ground, sliding wounded men on stretchers or dragging them by their parkas to the makeshift aid station the corpsmen had set up. It was hard work, and hazardous, running through enemy fire, hauling wounded men who screamed terribly at the rough handling.



     “Keep it moving, you people! Keep it moving!” Fisher yelled at his detail. “Hey Grauman! Veeder! There’s a man down over in Bahr’s squad. Move out on the double!”



     The afternoon light faded and we worried about whether the ammo would hold out. The Chinese had fully encircled us. Their volume of fire was just enough to keep us pinned down. They would wait for dark, then swarm over our lines. They had plenty of people to do the job.



     Our bayonets were fixed and our grenades ready. Every man had a target sector and we kept fire discipline to conserve ammo. We began to settle in and wait for dark.



     As bullets zinged, grenades exploded, and Marines cried for help, someone yelled out that Captain Wilcox had been hit. He had taken a bullet in the face and a piece of shrapnel had shattered his arm. Joe Kurcaba took over as our skipper.

When he got the word that Captain Wilcox was down, Joe and I were scouting the perimeter; the skipper had wanted a new estimate of the situation. My senses were revived and I wished Joe would get closer to the ground. No matter how much metal was in the air, Joe would repeat, “If I get down, I might never get back up again.”



     As soon as we heard about the Captain, we ran to the CP. We found him there, his head wrapped in a big, white ball of bandage, unable to speak. His blood-soaked sleeve dangled beside him. He kept struggling to get to his feet while the docs put him down on his spread-out poncho. After a while the morphine kicked in and the skipper nodded off, groaning softly.



     Sgt Gene O’Brien, of the 2nd Platoon, was hit while setting up a machine gun, and Fisher’s people dragged him to the aid station. Bill Davis, the corpsman, took a piece of shrapnel through the mouth; two of the wounded he had been tending were killed by the same blast. Doktorsky and Toppel were the only two corpsmen we had left. They shot Davis with morphine, wrapped him up, and laid him on his poncho, next to Mickens.



     Before they stabilized their line around us, the Chinese had pushed the first platoon almost back to the CP. Just as Joe Kurcaba came to take over command of the Company, Woody Taylor stormed in, demanding that we get the hell out of there.



     “The (Chinese) have all the high ground. They’ve got us surrounded,” he boomed. “They’re going to pick us to pieces tonight.”



     Joe Kurcaba answered him quietly. “We need air support to run interference for us. Then we might be able to make a break for the road.”



     “They better get to work mighty fast,” said Woody. “We only have a few minutes of daylight left.”



     All afternoon, Joe Hedrick, the air controller had attempted to get a piece of the air support [which had been] dedicated to the 5th Marines. Now, in the remaining minutes of daylight he caught a flight of four Corsairs in search of action. The 5th Marines attack had run into far greater resistance than expected and had been called back. The Corsairs wanted to use up their ordnance before dark, so they were looking for targets of opportunity.



     Joe Hedrick gave them their first opportunity.



     The Corsairs first strike went along the ridgelines where the Chinese were looking down our throats and taking potshots at us. Hedrick aligned the next run over Kiser’s platoon and down the valley that led back to the road, a mile away. Kiser had the air marker panels in the snow, and he was ready to break out as soon as the planes flew over to shoot up the Chinese who were facing him. I took all my mortarmen, except one man to carry each gun, and we moved up to add more BARs and rifles to Hank Kiser’s push.



     The four Corsairs streaked low above us, pointing at the Chinese positions less than a hundred yards away. They dropped their earth-shaking big bombs and then they scathed the long, deep valley with rockets and heavy caliber slugs. The Chinese took cover and we moved out.



     Kiser’s platoon, with my mortarmen bolstering their center, charged forward. The sharp thrust, quickly following the air strike, gave us momentum. Kurcaba formed the rest of the company in two parallel columns, with the wounded and dead carried in the center. For the remaining few minutes of light, the Corsairs continued their covering passes in front of the column.



     As darkness descended our progress slowed. We slid and stumbled down the deep valley. Stretcher-bearers strove, vainly, to protect the wounded from rough falls. We put flankers out on the slopes on each side, and the forward element took little Chinese fire. Woody Taylor’s platoon fought off a few trailing attacks, but these were not serious attempts to stop us. The enemy seemed to be letting us slip from his grasp.



-—



     It took hours more for Baker-One-Seven to make its way the mile down the road. Colonel Davis brought elements of Charlie Company out to meet us. We loaded our dead and wounded on waiting trucks and sent them back to Yudam-ni. The Chinese had cut off the MSR between Yudam-ni and Hagaru-ri, the colonel informed us.

On the march back into the Yudam-ni perimeter, past midnight, the men were silent, spent from this cold and brutal day. Captain Wilcox had been a good skipper. [Captain Wilcox later recovered from his wounds and returned to duty. He retired from the Marine Corps after 20 years of service with the rank of Major.]

All that effort and fighting and death and injury had yielded an advance of perhaps three quarters of a mile. The division, attacking as a division with the 5th Marines attacking up the road, the 7th Marines attacking along the ridgelines overlooking the road, and the big guns of the 11th Marines bombarding the enemy troops ahead of them, had been stuffed, to use football parlance. They did not know it – no one knew it yet – but this one battle marked the end of the “Home-by-Christmas” offensive. That night ten of the twelve divisions of General Song’s Ninth Army attacked General Smith’s 1st Marine Division and Lt Col MacLean’s RCT-31 – about 100,000 men against about 28,000.

First Night in Hell — UN Positions

It was fully dark by the time the Marines returned to their positions in Yudam-ni. By midnight – just an hour or so before the PVA attack was to begin – the UN forces at the Chosin Reservoir were located in six distinct, geographically-separated perimeters.

The bulk of the 1st MarDiv — the 5th, 7th, and most of the 11th Marines — was all located in Yudam-ni.

(The dashed red line slightly to the west of Yudam-ni represents the Chinese defensive line that the 1st MarDiv encountered that afternoon.)

RCT-31 was located at the inlet at the northeastern corner of the reservoir. RCT-31's situation was problematic. It was not at full strength. It had just arrived at the inlet earlier that day. The forces which were there were in three small areas, each separated from the other by several miles. Its defensive positions were incomplete and were spread out. Overall, it was not prepared for the impending PVA attack.

Two companies from the 7th Marines were posted along the MSR, at Toktong Pass. Charlie/1/7 was located on a spur of Hill 1419 (“Turkey Hill”), right next to the MSR. Fox/2/7 had established a perimeter on top of a small hill about 100 yards immediately east of the MSR, at the crest of the pass, looking down into it.

The 3/1 Battalion was at Hagaru-ri, guarding the MSR, a supply depot, and an airfield. General Smith’s division CP was located here too with its support units.

The 2/1 Battalion and RCT-1’s regimental CP was at Koto-ri. It was being held in reserve. It was also guarding the MSR, a supply depot, and an airfield under construction.

The 1/1 Battalion was at Chinhung-ni, also in reserve, and also guarding the MSR and a supply depot.

First Night In Hell — The Chinese Attack

During the early morning hours of November 28, ten divisions of the PVA Ninth Army launched multiple attacks and ambushes throughout the area. (The remaining two divisions were being held in reserve, but they would be brought forward and used in next few days.)

Two divisions (79th and 89th ) surrounded and attacked the Marine position at Yudam-ni. (PVA 20,000 infantry vs. US 10,000 infantry.)

Three divisions (80th, 81st, and 94th) surrounded and attacked RCT-31 in their areas on the eastern side of the Reservoir. (PVA 30,000 infantry vs. US 3,300 infantry.)

One division (59th) attacked Charlie and Fox Companies guarding Toktong Pass and cut the road between Yudam-ni and Hagaru-ri. Charlie Company was saved by artillery fire from Yudam-ni that night and rescued by the rest of the 1/7 battalion with air support the next day. The 1/7 couldn’t get Fox Company out, though. Fox/2/7 tightened its perimeter on top of the hill, but they were trapped there. It would be five days before they got relief. (PVA 10,000 infantry vs. US 450 infantry.)

One division (58th) attacked the 3/1 Battalion and the 1st MarDiv command headquarters, the supply depot, and the airfield at Hagaru-ri. (PVA 10,000 infantry vs. US < 2,000 infantry.)

Two divisions (76th and 77th) attacked along the MSR between Hagaru-ri and Koto-ri and cut it. (PVA 20,000 infantry unopposed.)

One division (60th) surrounded and attacked the 2/1 Battalion and RCT-1 CP units Koto-ri. (PVA 10,000 infantry vs. US 2,000 infantry.)

The Marine position at Chinhung-ni was not attacked.

These battles were not quite as one-sided as they seem. The US forces established perimeters of varying defensibility at all locations. The Chinese swarmed the US positions — they attacked en masse — which contributed to large casualty counts for them, and they were lightly armed. General Song clearly underestimated the Marine troop strength at Yudam-ni and overestimated RCT-31's defenses at the inlet. He probably was not aware that RCT-5 had left the inlet and moved to Yudam-ni and had been replaced at the inlet by the much smaller RCT-31.

Chinese Attack At Yudam-ni

The PVA 79th Division attacked RCT-7 positions on North and Northwest Ridges, while the PVA 89th Division attacked Southwest Ridge where RCT-5 had their positions. Throughout the night it was attack and counterattack, with heavy casualties on both sides. Some enemy advances took advantage of gaps in the line and came down to the valley floor, dangerously close to command posts

Lieutenant Owen describes that first night. Baker/1/7 was on a hilltop in the southeast side of the valley, near the MSR to the south. Had Chinese forces come from the south, they would have been at ground zero, but no Chinese attacked on their front. The nearest fighting to Baker/1/7 to them were more than a mile away.

Lieutenant Owen describes the Chinese attack that first night…

     [...] The Chinese threw everything they had at Yudam-ni. Their all-out attack started with a heavy barrage of mortar fire. Then came the red and green rockets, and the flares and bugles, more than we had ever seen or heard before, and thousands of their soldiers poured through the mountains. They hit with simultaneous force on all the Marine positions west and north of the village. Baker-One-Seven was not directly involved, but we had a clear view of the fight from our hill across the valley.



     Every one of the big guns that the 11th Marines had emplaced on the low meadows of Yudam-ni opened up to protect the ridgelines. The sky filled with the arcing red streaks of the artillery shells, and the hills blossomed with their fiery explosions. Star shells popped high in the air, their stark blue light casting unearthly shadows across the snowy ground. There were tracers from both sides, brilliant lines of red and orange, flashes of grenades, the flaming bursts of machine guns, and burp guns and rifles winking like swarms of fireflies.



     The Chinese attacked in massive numbers, an overwhelming weight, but they also endured terrible casualties. Several times they pushed the Marines off their ridges. Each time the Marines reformed and counterattacked. They had artillery support behind them [The Chinese really had no artillery aside from mortars. They had a great many of these – about twice as many per capita compared to Marines.] Their counterattacks sent the Chinese reeling back. The battle went back and forth all night. When the Chinese bugles sounded at daybreak and the fighting broke off, there was little ground lost. The Marines still controlled the high ground around Yudam-ni, but they had paid the price of hundreds of dead and wounded men.



     Across the reservoir that night, east of Yudam-ni, there was another display of pyrotechnics. We had heard that our Army was over there, units of the 7th Division. Miles away, from our hill, we saw the sky light up above their position. The Army was under Chinese attack, too. We did not know how desperate their battle was.

The 1st MarDiv had been caught somewhat by surprise. General Smith had always strongly suspected that his division was surrounded by Chinese ever since it left Sudong-ni, but he never had any solid information. His intelligence people had hints about it, primarily from civilians they encountered or from captured Chinese solders. These people knew where the PVA had been, but not where it was now. The soldiers knew which units they belonged to and how large those units were, but they also had no idea where those units currently were. They also had no idea when or where their units might attack.

General Smith had prepared for the impending attack the best he could, but when it came it was very strong. I don’t think that even he thought that the Chinese would hurl ten divisions at his one, or that there would be so many different simultaneous attacks. By dawn, the five 1st MarDiv positions and RCT-31's position were all cut off from one another. The MSR was occupied by the Chinese in many places. The Battle of the Chosin Reservoir had begun.

The Marines would incur their heaviest casualties at Yudam-ni during the first two nights of the Chinese attack. During these first two nights there were 172 Marines killed, 935 wounded, and 60 missing – more than 10% of the two regiments’ infantrymen. On the other side, General Song’s two divisions were mauled. Their losses were considerable higher for during these two nights of battle.

In the daytime, Marine and Navy air power was brought to bear on any Chinese positions that could be located. During the third night, November 29-30, Song attacked elsewhere, as we will see. On November 30, the 1st MarDiv began it breakout from Yudam-ni, back over Toktong Pass, back to Hagaru-ri, “attacking in another direction.” This would be a serious fight the entire way.

Next Part

Part 9: Task Force MacLean/Faith - A Tragedy In Five Days

Previous Parts

Part 3: MacArthur's War

Part 6: Into The Trap -- Koto-ri to Toktong Pass

My Father At Frozen Chosin -- Part 7: Changes Of Plans

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Community (This content is not subject to review by Daily Kos staff prior to publication.)

Friday March 24, 2017 · 9:00 AM PDT

2017/03/24 · 09:00

General MacArthur’s “Home-by-Christmas Offensive”
Marshal Peng’s “Second Phase Offensive”
Happy Thanksgiving!
The Battle Of The Chongchon River
The Marines Arrive In Yudam-ni

General MacArthur’s “Home-by-Christmas Offensive”

From early October through about mid-November, General MacArthur’s original plan for the UN forces in North Korea seemed be something like “Go that-a-way, as fast as possible,” where “that-a-way” was north in the general direction of the Yalu River. Under this original plan, the 1st MarDiv would zip past the Chosin Reservoir and continue heading north, somewhat covering the left flank of the rest of X Corps which was also heading north along various lines, about seventy miles to the east. This was the plan in force when the Chinese launched their First Phase Offensive on October 25 and remained in force when they abruptly ended it about two weeks later.

In public, MacArthur continued to dismiss the idea that the Chinese were still resent in significant numbers in North Korea, but he had to know that they had been there in the very recent past. Since the Chinese were now “gone” it was time for the UN forces to resume their attack toward China.

General MacArthur was renowned for both his ego and his hubris. He was one of those people who could never be wrong. However, he also had a long and very successful career as a general. His Korean operations, Chromite and Tailboard, both of which had been initially viewed dubiously by others, had both worked well. His new operation was announced on Thanksgiving Day, November 23. He dubbed it the “Home-by-Christmas Offensive.” This was one of those iconic dates MacArthur loved so much. The underlying idea behind the Home-by-Christmas Operation seemed to be that MacArthur was concerned about the Eighth Army’s situation and was taking steps to strengthen it. But one must never forget that MacArthur always worked the public relations angle.

Under this offensive, General Walker’s Eighth Army would resume its advance north – toward the Yalu River and China – beginning at 10:00 AM on November 24. This in itself was not a change from existing instructions. The Eighth Army had been camped just south of the Chongchon River since early November, regrouping and repairing the damage from Onjong and Unsan. The ROK II Corps had been largely rebuilt. MacArthur had most certainly not given up on his goals of occupying all of North Korea, unifying the two Koreas, and parking his armies on the Chinese border. (In his heart, he wanted to cross the Yalu and attack China directly.) There were two major changes, though, from operation “Go That-a-way.”

First, the Eighth Army would change its tactics slightly. It would advance along a broad front, about seventy-five miles wide. The reconstituted ROK II Corps would be placed on the Eighth Army's right flank. The Eighth Army would conduct the main advance, with its I Corps to the west and its IX Corps in the center. This might not seem like much of a change, but it was. The first time they had advanced through this area, the units had advanced blitzkrieg-style; separate lines of advance up roads or across easy terrain, with little lateral connection. Some of these units advanced faster and farther than others. The Chinese had been able to exploit this separation of units and to chew some of them up at Onjong and Unsan. Maintaining an even front would make it harder for the Chinese to do this again – though not impossible. As large as the Eighth Army was, seventy-five miles of front line was a lot of territory to cover.

Secondly, under General MacArthur’s new plan, the Eighth Army was to be strengthened. During the PVA’s “First Phase Offensive” the bulk of the fighting had been in the west. Aside from Sudong-ni, X Corps had received little opposition as it began its advance up the east coast. MacArthur believed that this would be the case again — that the strongest enemy concentration would be in the west, and that the decisive battles would be fought there. To counter this, the 1st MarDiv had its mission abruptly changed.

RCT-5 and RCT-7 would still leave the Chosin Reservoir, but instead of heading north along the MSR, they would now go west, toward the Eighth Army. Specifically, they would depart Yudam-ni on November 27, and move west over a very questionable road. Their goal would be little village named Mupyong-ni, about fifty miles west of Yudam-ni.

Mupyong-ni was considered to be strategically important. It was on the Chongchon River and sat astride a road which went from Pyongyang all the way to the Chinese border, which was the road the PVA used to supply its forces in western North Korea. The Marines would physically join with the Eighth Army, which presumably would also have reached Mupyong-ni from the southwest by the time the 1st MarDiv got there. Once the two forces were joined, they would continue north. The 1st MarDiv would serve as a right flank for the Eighth Army, guarding against further Chinese attacks from the east. Implicit is MacArthur’s assumption that ROK II Corps wouldn't be up to this task. (They wouldn’t.)

A lot of people thought that this sideways march to the west was a terrible idea. One of these people was David Halberstam.

     The timing of the Tenth Corps offensive in the east was important. It began on November 27, two days after the massive Chinese assault against the Eighth Army. The Marines had heard some of the early reports, but did not know the scope of the disaster. The essential plan in the east was nonetheless bizarre – the work, said Bill McCaffrey, of madmen. [General McCaffrey was at that time the commander of the 31st Regiment, 7th Infantry Division, X Corps.] The Marines in X Corps were to drive west to Mupyong-ni, some perhaps forty or fifty miles away, but each mile likely to be impassable, on roads which might or might not exist. Mupyong-ni was a village high up on the Chongchon, and thus in the Eighth Army sector; getting there would allegedly link them up with Walker’s men. This way they would theoretically encircle any Chinese troops in the area and cut off their escape, and, in the minds of the Dai Ichi architects, cut off all Chinese supply lines as well. [“Dai Ichi” refers to the Dai Ichi Seimei Building in Tokyo, in which General MacArthur had his headquarters as Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers during the allied occupation of Japan following WW2.]



     Given the thinness of the American forces, and the absolute harshness of the terrain, some mountains reaching seven thousand feet, and the cruelty of the weather, often twenty degrees below, it was pure insanity. The people in the Dai Ichi simply did not understand that those being cut off would be the UN forces themselves, completely isolated in the most unreachable place in the country, that in the unlikely event that the Marines with all their vehicles actually tried to make it through to Mupyong-ni on what would turn out to be an ox trail really, by then sure to be ice-covered, over mountainous peaks, they would be the perfect target for the Chinese. But for MacArthur this linkup of X Corps and the Eighth Arny was a symbol for victory, the crowning moment of a career-crowning campaign, proof that he had conquered the country and the enemy. It mattered nothing to him that even if the Marines managed to get through to Mupyong-ni, it would have no military value, because they would barely control the land they stood on. No one could talk him out of it.


     “The plans bore no resemblance to the country. In those days it was like complete insanity in the command,” Bill McCaffrey said years later. “From the time we headed for the Yalu it was like being in the nut house with the nuts in charge. You could only understand the totality of the madness if you were up there in the north after the Chinese had entered in full force, and we were being hit and hit again by these immense numbers of troops. And what were getting from Tokyo was madness – absolute madness. The only real question was whether we could get any of our people out of there, and yet the orders were still to go forward.” MacArthur, after Inchon, he added bluntly, “was nutty as a fruitcake.”



     The lead regiment was supposed to be Ray Murray’s 5th Marines, already too isolated for their own good. Of the projected attack west, Murray later said, “It was unbelievable. The more you think about it, the more unreal it becomes. Well, anyhow, those were the orders, and that’s what we started to do.” It was, as Almond’s own chief of staff, Nick Ruffner, put it, “an insane plan.” It ranked, Clay Blair wrote, “as the most ill-advised and unfortunate operation of the Korean War.”

One obvious problem with MacArthur’ plan was that RCT-5 wasn’t even in Yudam-ni. They were nearly thirty road miles away, at the inlet, on the northeastern side of the reservoir. RCT-5 and all its equipment, including its allotment of artillery from the 11th Marines, would be have to be moved to Yudam-ni first. MacArthur didn’t issue his orders until November 23. RCT-5 just made it; it finished arriving on November 26. The next day was operation “Home-by-Christmas’s” D-Day.

This created another problem. Under the original orders, two of the three RCTs which comprised the 1st MarDiv were to serve as the left flank of US X Corps. In this position they would guard the entire X Corps from Chinese attacks from the west as they all continued northward. Then MacArthur pulled RCT-7 from its flanking assignment and sent it to Yudam-ni. This left just RCT-5 as a flanking unit. Now it, too, had been diverted to Yudam-ni. X Corps now had a completely unguarded left flank.

No commander worth his salt advances his army through enemy territory without guarding its flanks. This was the genesis of RCT-31, which was very hastily organized and moved to RCT-5’s former positions on the inlet. At full strength, RCT-31 was the equivalent of an undersized regiment. So hastily was RCT-31 slapped together, one of its three battalions and some artillery never made it to the inlet in time, as we will see below. The 3,300 troops who did make it there were savagely attacked and suffered a casualty rate (killed, wounded, captured, missing) of about 90% before they could move an inch.

A third, and biggest, problem was simply this – no one had any idea at all how many Chinese there were in the mountains around Chosin or north of the Chongchon or where they were located. As we have seen, General MacArthur didn’t think there were very many at all, and whatever thing MacArthur thought, General Almond also thought the same thing. At the point MacArthur issued these new orders, the Chinese already had eighteen divisions north and east of the Chongchon River and twelve more all around the Chosin Reservoir - 300,000 soldiers – all waiting to begin the “Second Phase Offensive.”

Marshal Peng’s “Second Phase Offensive”

As we have seen, after the three battles in late October and early November, the Chinese “disappeared.” Of course they really hadn’t disappeared. Marshal Peng pulled his Thirteenth Army back and rebuilt it to its full strengh of eighteen divisions. In the upcoming attack he had decided to use the entire Thirteenth Army against the approaching UN Eighth Army. (During the First Phase Offensive, he had diverted a few divisions to Chosin, as we have seen.)

Peng planned to begin his attack against the Eighth Army late at night on November 25. He knew that the ROK II Corps was once again covering the right flank of the advancing force. He also knew that they were overall weaker and more prone to collapse than the other UN elements. He would meet the entire seventy-five mile line, but he would hit hardest at the ROK II Corps. If their lines crumbled, the way into the very center of the Eighth Army was wide open to him.

But now the 1st MarDiv, a significant combat force, had landed and was advancing north toward Chosin. The rest of X Corps, far to the east, was advancing as well, in a sort of patchwork fashion. They were not regarded as much of a danger by the Chinese. However, the landing of the 1st MarDiv at Wonsan had alarmed Chairman Mao. He did see the Marines as a serious threat.

Mao and his generals also figured that the logical path for the 1st MarDiv to take once they left Wonsan was through the area around the Chosin Reservoir, then north to the Yalu River. Peng had already moved his troops away from there to rejoin the main body of the Thirteenth Army, so this way was now unguarded.

Mao personally ordered General Song to take the PLA Ninth Army across the border into North Korea to destroy the advancing Marines. The Ninth Army, which consisted of twelve divisions, began crossing the border on November 11 and moving into position. On that same day, November 11, RCT-7 was just beginning to arrive in Hagaru-ri. Under Marshal Peng’s plan, the Ninth Army was to launch its attack at the same time as the Thirteenth Army — late at night on November 25. This turned out to be impossible for General Song. He was not able to get his troops into good counterattacking positions timely.

I think that one main reason for General Song’s delay was the inherent difficulty that the Chinese had in processing intelligence information quickly. The Marines had been moving slowly and carefully up until November 20, at which time their units began jumping all around the Chosin area like some crazed game of Checkers. This activity continued past Marshal Peng’s D-day. The commanders of the small units which were watching the Marines did send their information up the chain of command, but they had to rely on couriers, and those couriers had to remain hidden in the daytime, so Peng did not have current information really at any time, and his orders did not really match the evolving tactical situation.

As it turned out, the Ninth Army would not initiate its counterattack until late at night on November 27, two full days after Peng had begun his counterattack. By this time, the news of the Thirteenth Army’s attacks in the west had reached General MacArthur, and to a much lesser degree, General Smith.

These two counterattacks, the PVA Thirteenth Army against the UN Eighth Army and the PVA Ninth Army against the US 1st MarDiv, were referred to by Chinese military leaders as the “Second Phase Offensive.” Until the Second Phase offensive actually commenced, the Chinese continued to sit in the hills and watch and wait — with the occasional fight just to remind everyone they were still around.

Happy Thanksgiving

The 1st MarDiv’s Thanksgiving Day 1950 menu. I wonder just how much advance planning went into some of these items.

After the battles at Ongjon and Unsan things were quiet in the west for nearly three weeks. This give the UN forces a chance to rebuild their numbers and repair the damage from the battles earlier in November. That year, Thanksgiving Day was November 23.

According to Lieutenant Owen...

Tokyo [MacArthur’s headquarters] made a big public relations splash out of Thanksgiving dinner for the troops. Every soldier and Marine in Korea was to have a hot turkey-and-trimmings dinner. The cooks, bakers, and messmen worked for days to prepare the meals and put them on galley trailers to go forward to the rifle companies. It was especially important, in Tokyo’s public relations scheme, that the front-line troops be shown the bounties of Thanksgiving. The war was going so well, the rear echelon hucksters proclaimed, that General MacArthur could afford to give the men not only the traditional meal, but also the day off.

The Chinese didn’t take Thanksgiving Day off. They gave us a stiff fight on a wretched hill, a few miles short of Yudam-ni. Colonel Litzenberg told us that after we took this one, Yudam-ni would be wide open. He and Colonel Davis were with us up front when we attacked.



     It took us several hours and some casualties to fight to the top of the corrugated terrain, a mean jumble of giant boulders, felled trees, snow, and slippery ice. The Chinese defended stubbornly, but we had good support from the battalion’s heavy mortars and our own sixties. As we pushed the enemy away, Able and Charlie Companies barreled up the road and went into Yudam-ni with little trouble.



     While we were taking the hill above them, the rest of the battalion had eaten their Thanksgiving dinners, hot and bountiful.



     We had our dinner in frigid darkness at 2300 [11PM.] Captain Wilcox ordered us to come down from the hill, one platoon at a time. We filed into a tight little valley, just off the road. Waiting for us was a truck with a galley trailer, its sides pulled up, and the cooks standing proudly amid mounds of festive food. Gunny Buckley had the lights of the company jeep illuminating the area.



     Most of us had lost our mess gear, but a smiling, back-slapping mess sergeant gave us aluminum trays. The cooks in the mess line were solicitous of the grimy, tired Marines who filed before them.



     “What’ll you have, Mac? Take all you want. Plenty of chow for all hands.” “You want more turkey, Mac? How about a couple of these oranges for later.”



      We sat in the snow and on the big boulders with the overflowing trays. We relished the feast before us, but we had not reckoned with the cold. The temperature had sunk far below zero and our food began to freeze before we could set a fork into it. The giblet gravy congealed and became an icy coating over the chilled turkey and mashed potatoes. The cranberry sauce became sherbet. The oranges became hard as baseballs.



     I found a place on the hood of the company jeep, next to the corpsman, Bill Davis. Both of us spooned beneath the icy coating in search of morsels that hadn’t yet frozen. A bullet zinged the air a few feet above our heads – a Chinese sniper somewhere up the valley wall.



     “Screw him,” Bill Davis said, in response to the sniper’s attempt, and he kept digging through his frozen turkey. Somebody turned off the jeep’s lights and the sniper didn’t bother us again.



     When we went back to our positions on the hill that night, we were still hungry. We knew that battalion and the rear echelons had done their best, though, to give us a Thanksgiving dinner. Afterward, when we had to fight through this place again, we found turkey carcasses strewn everywhere and we remembered it as “Turkey Hill.”

The next day, November 24, the first part of MacArthur’s “Home-by-Christmas Offensive” kicked off. The US Eighth Army and ROK II Corps began their advances into northern North Korea, while the US X Corps continued moving north along the Korean east coast. The 1st MarDiv was already moving, as we have seen – RCT-7 was now in Yudam-ni and RCT-5 had just start to pull out of its positions on the eastern side of the Chosin Reservoir to join RCT-7.

The ROK II Corps met with some Chinese resistance, but overall the US Eighth Army met with little opposition and established positions as much as twenty miles north of the Chongchon River by nightfall on November 25. And their positions were all in a relatively neat line west to east. So far so good.

The Battle Of The Chongchon River

4-Chinese_Troops_Attack_7th_Infantry_Division_At_The_Chongchon.jpg — PVA troops attacking the US 7th Infantry Division at the Chongchon River.

The PVA Thirteenth Army attacked the UN Eighth Army later that night. What ensued would become known as the Battle of the Chongchon River. Elements of the PVA Thirteenth Army attacked and overran the reconstituted ROK II Corps, and then decimated the US 2nd Infantry Division on the UN forces' right flank. The UN right flank disintegrated.

Once again, the main body of the US Eighth Army was unprotected. The PVA pressed its attack right into the middle of the Eighth Army, cutting in behind the center and left flank units which were engaged in their own battles about twenty miles north. There were some desperate battles over the next two days, but in the end, the Eighth Army was shattered. In the parlance of the time, the UN troops “bugged out.” They fled in disorder, often even dropping their weapons.

Eventually some order was restored.

Beginning on November 26, the UN Command and the surviving forces began to retreat all the way back to the 38th parallel. The US Eighth Army retreated 120 miles, the longest retreat in US Army history. They lost most of their equipment during the retreat. They also lost their commander, General Walker, who was killed when his jeep crashed. They would have been trapped and annihilated altogether except for the rear-guard delaying action by the Turkish Brigade, which slowed the PVA attack for two days, at great cost to the Turks.

The Battle of the Chongchon River was very nearly a complete victory for the Chinese. All that was missing for it to been entirely complete would have been encirclement and capture of the entire Eighth Army. These two armies would meet again, in about two months, near Seoul, with much different results.

The Marines Arrive In Yudam-ni

“The village of Yudam-ni was another scattering of small, grim buildings and huts. It joined two primitive roads on the edge of the Chosin Reservoir. The reservoir was now frozen solid and we set watches along the shores to guard against a Chinese attacks across the ice.” This was how Lieutenant Owen described their arrival.

RCT-7 was the first unit to arrive at Yudam-ni, on November 24 and 25, and they took control of the village. RCT-5 was trucked in from its positions on the eastern short of the reservoir, mostly on November 26; the last elements finally coming in early the next day, November 27. As soon as RCT-5 arrived, it was immediately taken to the western side of Yudam-ni. General Smith wanted them to lead the attack to the west, which was scheduled to go off that same morning as part of the “Home-by-Christmas Offensive.” RCT-5 was fresher than RCT-7, which had been more or less continuously fighting since Sudong-ni back on November 2. Even though RCT-7 wouldn’t have the point, they would still be fighting. They would be in the hills on both sides of the road, covering RCT-5's flanks, clearing any Chinese forces who occupied those hills.

Meanwhile, at the Chongchon River, the Eighth Army had collapsed under the weight of the Chinese attacks. Its subsequent mass retreat to the 38th parallel had begun. The Eighth Army would not be in Mupyong-ni to meet the 1st MarDiv. The division’s officers were working with news that was about two days old. Regardless, their orders were still to advance to Mupyong-ni.

According to Lieutenant Owen...

The 5th Marines came on trucks to join us at Yudam-ni; we now had two regiments there, almost ten thousand men [combat infantrymen.] Word came down that our mission had changed. Rather than continue the push north to the Yalu, we were to amount an attack to the west, fifty miles across another mountain range. The Chinese were pressuring the 8th Army’s flank over there, and the 1st Marine Division was assigned to relieve that pressure. Gone were the home for Christmas rumors.

Next Part

Part 8: The Chinese Spring Their Trap

Previous Parts

Part 2: The Korean War Begins

Part 5: Where Have All The Chinese Gone?

Part 6: Into The Trap -- Koto-ri To Toktong Pass

My Father At Frozen Chosin -- Part 6: Into The Trap -- Koto-ri To Toktong Pass

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Sunday March 19, 2017 · 4:27 AM PDT

2017/03/19 · 04:27

Hagaru-ri looking west. Through the mountains on the horizon is the road over Toktong Pass up to Yudam-ni

Departure From Koto-ri
“Tank!”
Arrival At The Chosin Reservoir
Ten Days In Hagaru-ri
Toktong Pass

Departure From Koto-ri

While the division was in Koto-ri, General Smith set up a garrison there, very much like the one in Chinhung-ni. Division engineers also began building an airstrip.

On November 13, the 1st MarDiv – now consisting of just RCT-7 and division headquarters units – resumed its advance north. The last remaining battalion of RCT-5, the 2/5, remained in Koto-ri. The next objective was Hagaru-ri. Once RCT-5, in its entirety, finally got to Hagaru-ri, a few days hence, RCT-5 and RCT-7 would split up.

RCT-5 would stay on the MSR and continue north a short distance. It would stop at an arm of the Chosin Reservoir which extended to the east several miles, called “Pungnyuri-gang,” Not surprisingly, the Army and the Marines both called called it “the inlet.” The inlet was about eight miles north of Hagaru-ri. While in that area, it would dig in and establish a perimeter. (This would turn out to be three perimeters, one per battalion.) Further orders would be forthcoming.

RCT-7 would take the back road mentioned above, in a previous section, to the northwest to Yudam-ni and establish the blocking position there. Of course, in order for the regiments to split, they would have to be together in the same place first. RCT-5 was still stuck on garrison duty down south.

Hagaru-ri was eleven miles north of Koto-ri. The section of the MSR between the two towns went through a long, nearly straight valley, limned on both sides by steep hills. As I mentioned earlier, this valley would be nicknamed “Hell Fire Valley” on November 29, after a day of brutal and bloody fighting. As RCT-7 moved north on November 13, it was generally quieter, with a few exceptions…

“Tank!”

As the division moved north from Koto-ri, the 1/7 Marines led the march. Baker company had point. Lieutenant Owen recounts a conversation he had with Gene O’Brien, Platoon Sergeant of 2nd Platoon, which clearly shows that frontline troops were quite concerned about what was ahead.

     “Don’t like this one damn bit, Lieutenant Owen. It isn’t natural for the [Chinese] to let us move up this easy. We’re walking into their trap”



     “All I know is that MacArthur says the 1st Marine Division is to go for the Yalu River.”



     “You don’t think the [Chinese] will let us get that far without lowering the boom on us, do you, Lieutenant?”



      “Hell no, I don’t. But just remember this, ‘ours is not to reason why’”



     “Yeah, ‘and into the valley of death rode the six hundred.’”

Soviet T34 Tank. NKPA propaganda picture .

The Marines were very watchful, but were in good humor as they advanced. Then fifty yards up the road, someone yelled. “Tank.” The company had no weapons on hand that could do anything to a tank. Nevertheless they tried. Somebody rolled a hand grenade under the tank where it exploded harmlessly. Two mortar rounds were fired at it, one went a little long, the second too short, where it exploded near Captain Wilcox and some others who were sprinting across the road. According to Lieutenant Owen...

     Jim Kovar and his assistant rocket gunner, Bill Regan, were with Captain Wilcox. Kovar recovered quickly from the close explosion, rolled away from the ditch, and went to the kneeling position, the three-five tube on his shoulder. Only fifty yards away, a gigantic sitting duck in his sights, was Kovar’s dream target, a Soviet T-34 tank. He waited for Regan to tap him on the back, the signal that the rocket was armed, ready to fire. [The are referring to a 3.5" bazooka, which can destroy a tank.]



     At the rear of the company column was Danny Holland and his tactical air team. At the first panicked cries of “Tank! Tank!” Danny ran forward bringing his radio man. He had a flight of Corsairs on station, covering the team’s advance. Within seconds one of his planes streaked in on the tank.



     Also on the road with the battalion was the regiment’s anti-tank team, hungry for action. They sped their jeep, towing a 75-millimeter recoilless rifle, up the road, skidded to a halt in front of Graeber’s ditch, and spun their gun toward the tank. They had point blank aim on their target.



      The enemy tank didn’t get off a single round. With an earsplitting roar, only feet above us, a lone Corsair zoomed in and unleashed a rocket that was a direct hit. Simultaneously the seventy-five gun fired in another direct hit. And as the Corsair flew by, Kovar fired off his three-five for a third knockout blow.



     The tank jumped a few feet above its dug-in pit. When it settled it was in flames. Baker company’s second tangle with an enemy tank was a win.



     All hands took credit for the kill. Danny Holland chalked one up for his fliers. The Regiment’s seventy-five recoilless crew were jubilant over their big hit. In Baker-One-Seven we gave credit to Jim Kovar.

In the two days the division was on the road between Koto-ri and Hagaru-ri, RCT-7 destroyed all four of the Soviet tanks that the NKPA had dedicated to support the Chinese army. The narrow, isolated mountain roads were not really suited for deployment of tanks. As the Marines advanced up the single-lane dirt road, they occasionally encountered a farmer or a logger who would tell them that there were many Chinese waiting for them in the mountains. There were indeed, but no one had any inkling of the size of the nightmare that lay ahead.

Arrival At The Chosin Reservoir

RCT-7 began arriving in Hagaru-ri on November 14. A few villagers told the Marines that some Chinese soldiers had been there but had left a couple of days before. They had gone west. Now that the Marines were were Hagaru-ri, they secured the town and established a perimeter. Another cache of supplies was set up, and the engineers began building another airstrip. This airstrip would be extremely important in early December, when many wounded Marines and soldiers who had just arrived in Hagaru-ri were evacuated out of North Korea. The rest of RCT-7 completed its arrival in Hagaru-ri by November 17. General Smith moved the 1st MarDiv CP to Hagaru-ri, along with some division-level support units.

At this point, everything stopped in Hagaru-ri. General Smith had to wait for RCT-5 to arrive in Hagaru-ri before he would move the division any further. This delay gave RCT-7 a chance to recuperate and recover for two extra days from the fighting they had endured coming up from Chinhung-ni. General Smith also hoped that a period of seeming inactivity in Hagaru-ri would lure the Chinese to show themselves.

According to David Halberstam, the ferocity of the battle at Sudong-ni had...

… made Smith warier than ever. His job, he believed, was to slow down the journey into that trap if at all possible and, in his phrase, “not go too far out on a limb.” Thus did tensions with Almond continue to increase. “Our Marine division was the spearhead of Tenth Corps,” as Colonel Bowser, Smith’s operations man, noted. “General Almond had already begun to notice that the spearhead was hardly moving at all. We were in fact just poking along – deliberately so. We pulled every trick in the book to slow down our advance, hoping the enemy would show his hand before we got more widely disbursed than we already were. At the same time we were building up our levels of supply at selected dumps along the way.”

On November 15, General Smith wrote to the Commandant of the Marine Corps expressing his concerns about his mission and related issues. He mentioned several things he was concerned about, but two which really worried him were the fragmentation of his division and difficulty in fighting the Chinese in the mountains in winter.

     Time and again I have tried to tell the Corps Commander [General Almond] that in a marine division he has a powerful instrument, but that it cannot help but lose its full effectiveness when dispersed. Probably I have had more luck than the other division commanders in impressing my point. [Not really. The last time his division had been together was back at Wonsan nearly three weeks earlier.]



     Someone in high authority will have to make up his mind as to what is our goal. My mission is still to advance to the border. The 8th Army, 80 miles to the southwest, will not attack until the 20th. I suppose their goal is the border. Manifestly we should not push on without regard to the 8th Army. We would simply get further out on a limb. If the 8th Army push does not go, then the decision will have to be made as to what to do next. I believe a winter campaign in the mountains of North Korea is too much to ask of the American soldier or marine, and I doubt the feasibility of supplying troops in this area during the winter or providing for evacuation of sick and wounded.

Ten Days In Hagaru-ri

While waiting in Hagaru-ri for RCT-5 to arrive, RCT-7 was keeping busy. On November 16, it began to send patrols around the area, primarily to the northwest and west. These patrols continued through November 20. During the first two days several PVA positions were destroyed, primarily through initial air and artillery attacks, followed by infantry attack. The next three days brought no direct confrontations with the PVA. Marine aircraft did spot small groups of enemy soldiers to the west of Hagaru-ri. Civilian refugees from these areas also reported much enemy activity, mostly at night, when the Marines stayed behind their perimeter.

On November 19, the first elements of RCT-5 began arriving in Hagaru-ri. The 2/5 Battalion moved north by truck from Koto-ri. RCT-1 was still stuck on the H-S Axis, so the 3/7 Battalion was sent back to Koto-ri to occupy the position just vacated by the by the 2/5. The 2/5 passed right through Hagaru-ri to its newly assigned position near the village of Sasu-ri, on the east side of the reservoir, a few miles south of the inlet. The next day, November 20, the 2/5 began patrolling the area around its position. The RCT-5 CP moved to Hagaru-ri.

The 1st MarDiv made two important troop movements on November 21.

First, the 1/5 moved from Majon-dong through Hagaru-ri to its new position just south of the inlet (north of the 2/5's position.) As we have seen, elements of the 7th Infantry Regiment were scheduled to relieve the 1/5 at some point so it could move north and rejoin the 1st MarDiv. Apparently this had happened, probably that day or the day before, though I could not find any specific reference to it. The next day, the 1/5 and 2/5 continued their patrols in their areas. A PVA squad was encountered and a firefight ensued.

       Second, elements of RCT-7 – primarily the 1st Battalion – finally set out toward Yudam-ni, to establish the blocking position that had been ordered back on November 13. Their first stop was to be small village named Sinhung-ni, just beyond Toktong Pass. (A lot more on this in the next section.)

      On November 23, the 3/5 at Chinhung-ni was relieved by Baker/1/1. The 3/5 moved to its position just north of the inlet. The relief by Baker/1/1 is important. This is the first specific mention of any part of RCT-1 being relieved from the H-S Axis and deployed along the MSR – it was now free to assume its new assignments. Back on November 17, General Smith had written...

Unless forced to do so, the Division [him] desired to avoid committing troops to Yudam-ni or to any great distance north of Hagaru-ri [on the MSR] until RCT-1 could be closed up behind RCT-5 and RCT-7.

RCT-1 was finally coming home. On November 23, General Smith finally had his entire division more or less together, located on a contiguous stretch of MSR about thirty miles from one end (Chinhung-ni) to the other (the inlet.) He issued orders that day directing RCT-5's next move. It was to move north and capture three villages along the MSR – beginning with Kyolmuh-li, twenty miles north of Hagaru-ri. RCT-7 was already on the move toward Yudam-ni, fourteen miles northwest of Hagaru-ri. But before they got to Yudam-ni they had to get through Toktong Pass, which would prove to be a lot harder than anticipated.

Toktong Pass

The winding road from Hagaru-ri to the west was exposed for almost its entire length to the hills and ridgelines on either side. It climbed gently to a little over 4,000 feet to a crest, then descended again. The crest itself was at the apex of a hairpin curve. Troops passing through were in a shooting gallery. This was Toktong Pass.

As was mentioned above, elements of RCT-7 began advancing along this road on November 21. Specifically, Baker/1/7, reinforced by Dog/2/7 amd 81mm mortars from 1st Battalion, set out for the small village of Sinhung-ni. It was just beyond the crest of Toktong Pass. (Sinhung-ni is so small it doesn’t appear on many maps.) About 500 yards short of the pass, the Marines came under heavy small arms and machine gun fire from a company sized PVA element. Lieutenant Owen describes this action:

The weather turned ugly again as we formed up to resume the attack to the north. A bitter cold wind greeted us, filled with a stinging, gritty snow.

-—

     Our objective was Toktong Pass, a rocky peak that was the highest point on the roads to Yudam-ni. It was six miles ahead, and we stepped out in parallel columns spread along each side of the twisting, frozen dirt road. Rifle platoons from Abel and Charlie Companies covered our flanks from their positions on the endless, snow-covered hills.


     We moved out in the colorless dawn. The men beat their hands against their sides after the finger-numbing ordeal of strapping their gear and checking weapons in the cold darkness. We were helmeted, shapeless figures in long hooded parkas, showing only a small patch of face to the wind.



“Nothing but Chinamen from here to Mongolia,” Kelly muttered to me. He walked backward for shelter against the wind. “I hope them [Chinese] bastards are as cold as we are.”



     There were some listless profanities aimed at the cold and the snow that coated us white. Until we caught up with the Chinese again, the weather was our enemy.

-—

     The Chinese opened up on us as we approached the top of Toktong Pass. They were embedded around a high spike of rocks, and they took us under fire at two hundred yards. Their machine guns and rifles were sporadic at first, tracers seeking targets. They soon intensified.



     Hank Kiser’s platoon had the lead, and they quickly formed a firing line off of the road. Hugo Johnson’s mortar was with them, and I soon heard his raucous directions and rounds thumping out of the tube.



     The enemy fire became heavy; about fifty Chinese were dug in against us, and they were serious about defending this place. Chew Een Lee took his platoon off of the road to extend our firing line. Captain Wilcox came forward with Garcia and the big radio and set up in the ditch just behind Kiser. I marveled at his easy, ambling gait during firefights, he always stood straight up. [1Lt Lee had became 2nd Platoon Leader after 1Lt Graeber was wounded at Sudong-ni. Pfc Gilberto Garcia was Cpt Wilcox’s radioman and runner.]



     The static of the SCR-300 radio added to the pounding of our own machine guns and BARs. Rifles cracked, Johnson’s mortar thumped out the HE’s [high explosive mortar shells,] and enemy bullets zinged through the air and spun off chips of boulders. Soon came the urgent cries, “Corpsman! Oh, God, Corpsman.”



     And the fear came, as it did to me with the onset of every fight. The corpsman cries, the booming explosions, and the whine of bullets, blood-soaked parkas. Dear God, not this time, please.

Platoon Sergeant King, from Taylor’s platoon crouched among some large boulders above me. He shouted down that there was a machine gun near the spike of rocks that marked the main Chinese position. I willed myself to climb up and get a better look. The fear submerged and the cold was forgotten... Kelly was with me, and we slipped frequently and fell to our knees, then scrambled up again.



     Progress was slow and we attracted enemy attention. Bullets whined close by, and we made desperate bounds over the snow, up the slope, and into sheltering boulders.



     Just below us, Pat Burris had found a rock-rimmed pit for his gun, and I soon had him throwing HE into the rockpile. Our mortars had little effect, the enemy positions were skillfully emplaced. Even with artillery support it would be a long, hard day taking Toktong Pass away from the Chinese.

We were joined by Bob Wilson, the tactical air officer. He and his radioman, Tony Tinelli, had hauled their heavy radio up the near-vertical climb under thickening fire. By now, the Chinese realized that we were an observation post and they concentrated on us. They filled the air with bullets that ricocheted off the boulders and threw off chunks of granite.



     “Why the hell can’t you people find your own position?” Kelly growled at Tinelli. Bob Wilson brought in the Corsairs that were on station to cover our advance. I called down to Burris to lay down a round of white phosphorus to mark the Chinese guns, and the fliers came in on the column of white smoke.



Napalm attack on Chinese positions on a ridgeline a short distance ahead.

     They flew in low, barely above us. Their great, racketing noise overpowered all other sound as they flashed by. On their first passes they fired their machine guns and cannons. These had little effect; the Chinese were dug in too well.



     They followed with a napalm run, a spectacle of awesome and terrible beauty. The pods slid from the planes, tumbled across the ground, then exploded. Black smoke billowed and red flame leaped against the white snow, and seconds later we felt the blast of heat that consumed the ground two hundred yards away. Chinese soldiers were aflame, running around in frenzied circles. They threw themselves, flailing, into the snow.



     There was sudden silence. The Chinese ceased fire and our our own weapons were quiet. We were stunned by the power of that close-in, flaming strike.



      There was no further resistance at Toktong Pass. When we reached the top of the open slope, we found several charred Chinese bodies. Other than that, the position was empty; the enemy had withdrawn in good order, with their wounded and their weapons.



      We congratulated Bob Wilson and asked him to convey a “Well done!” to his Corsairs for making Toktong Pass an easy fight. We would come back to this place again, when it would be known as Fox Hill. That would be a much more difficult fight. And there would be far fewer of us by far.

The Marines spent that night on the high ground just above the crest of the pass. The next day the entire 1/7 moved to Sinhung-ni and established defensive positions. They also began “aggressive patrolling” between Sinhung-ni and Yudam-ni, paying particular attention to potential avenues of attack the PVA might use. The next morning, November 23, orders came in from division directing RCT-7 to seize Yudam-ni. As the day progressed the 1/7 ran into heavy snow drifts and Chinese roadblocks, which were vigorously defended. Their progress was halted about two miles northwest of Sinhung-ni, and they spent the night there.

On November 23, General MacArthur announced his new “Home-By-Christmas Offensive.” November 23 was Thanksgiving Day. It would turn out to be a most peculiar Thanksgiving Day. Back to Lieutenant Owen.

     The road to Yudam-ni writhed like a snake through the mountains, and its frozen mud surface was even narrower than the road up to Hagaru-ri. Much of it was covered with ice, a difficult passage for the company jeep which pulled a trailer filled with the day’s ammunition and the company gear.



-—


     The Chinese showed that they would not hibernate from the war because of the cold weather. The farther we advanced, the stiffer was their resistance. The hills continued to grow steeper and each climb we made, encumbered with the heavy clothing, became its own ordeal. Most of our fights were platoon-size, Kiser or Lee or Taylor maneuvering up a slippery , snow-covered slope to dislodge a force of Chinese who fired down at us on the road. When the skies were clear, the Corsairs flew support for us, which made our work easier. [1LT Woody Taylor was Leader of the 1st Platoon. He was a replacement officer, brought in when the original Platoon Leader was wounded.]



Much of the time, though, we couldn’t get air support and, after Toktong Pass, we were beyond artillery’s range; the big guns were still back at Hagaru-ri. The platoons fought up to Yudam-ni on their own. Our sixties and eighty-ones from battalion [the company’s 60mm mortars and battalion’s 81mm mortars,] hundreds of yards behind us were a help, but the rifle squads and machine guns did the heavy work. It was close-in and deadly fighting. After each hill, stretchers were brought down to the road, many with ponchos covering the [dead] bodies.

Next Part

Previous Parts

Part 1: Introduction

Part 2: The Korean War Begins

Part 6: Into The Trap: Koto-ri To Toktong Pass

My Father At Frozen Chosin -- Part 5: Where Have All The Chinese Gone?

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Friday March 17, 2017 · 9:00 AM PDT

2017/03/17 · 09:00

The First Phase Offensive Ends - Where Have All The Chinese Gone?
General Smith Begins To Get His Regiments Back
The Threat From The West
Into Funchilin Pass – The Mouth Of The Trap
The Division Resumes Its Advance
Colder Than Hell

The First Phase Offensive Ends - Where Have All The Chinese Gone?

The Chinese were continuously plagued with logistics problems – they advanced so fast they outran their supply train, which consisted primarily of porters (the familiar word “coolie” is a transliteration of the Mandarin word for porter) carrying supplies on their backs. They were forced to end their First Phase Offensive on November 5. Almost overnight, the Chinese troops disappeared. The area around Onjong and Unsan, and the area around the Chosin Reservoir, were both emptied of Chinese, seemingly overnight.

There was one other notable disappearance. The 3/31 Infantry (from the US 7th Infantry Division, part of General Almond’s X Corps) had been moving west toward the Fusen Reservoir. On November 6, they briefly encountered Chinese forces, from the PVA 126th Division. After a brief skirmish, these Chinese forces also disappeared. The 3/31 also withdrew, back toward the rest of X Corps. Later the 3/31 would become part of RCT-31 – Task Force MacLean/Faith.

After Onjong and Unsan and Sudong-ni, General MacArthur and the UN Command now knew for sure that Chinese forces had been in North Korea, in large numbers, but were unconvinced (or, perhaps, refused to admit) that the Chinese had openly intervened in the war. I am sure that he had not forgotten President Truman’s instructions that he could only take action north of the 38th parallel if “at the time of such operation there was no entry into North Korea by major Soviet or Chinese Communist forces, no announcements of intended entry, nor a threat to counter our operations militarily...” He did have considerable motivation to deny any Chinese presence in the vicinity.

One reason for this continuing denial was the sudden Chinese disappearance. MacArthur thought that no more than 30,000 Chinese could possibly hide in the mountains and remain unseen. Another reason was inelegantly expressed by General Walker, a Texan, commander of the US Eighth Army, who essentially said that there were a lot of Mexicans in Texas, but this didn’t mean that Mexico had invaded Texas.

The biggest skeptic of this view was General Smith. He was absolutely convinced that the Chinese were present, in large numbers, somewhere to the north and/or the west. His orders were to advance north, toward an enemy whose numbers and location were unknown. He carried out his orders – as a military officer subject to the commands of senior officers he really had no choice – but he did so with great care and caution, taking steps to keep the MSR open, to cache supplies in towns along the road, and to create defensible perimeters around these towns. He used the entire 1st Marines for this purpose, stashing one battalion each in Chinhung-ni, Koto-ri, and Hagaru-ri.

This creation of garrisons was perhaps contrary to the spirit of his orders, and drew considerable pressure from his superior General Almond. Eventually Almond saw the wisdom of Smith’s actions. Orders issued after November 10 gave Smith the authorization to do what he was already doing.

It did reduce the force he had available for attack to the two remaining regiments, but in the end it was the right decision. Largely because of Smith’s actions, the whole of X Corps was saved – including the parts of it directly under Almond’s command.

General Smith Begins To Get His Regiments Back

The heaviest fighting during the Sudong-ni battle was during the first 24 hours, although action continued in decreasing degree until November 6, when the Chinese left. Patrols sent forward found no Chinese in front of the division, so on November 7, Marines advanced into Chinhung-ni, completing this movement by the next day. Continuing patrols to the north, as far as Koto-ri, on the far side of Funchilin Pass, came up empty – no Chinese.

When the 1st MarDiv and the PVA 124th Division fought at Sudong-ni, two thirds of the 1st MarDiv was elsewhere. Only RCT-7 was available to General Smith. He was not happy about this. His notes describe a meeting he had with General Almond once the Sudong-ni battle was over and the Chinese had vanished.

At 1530 [3:30 pm] on 7 November, I had a conference with General Almond. I had been pressing for some time to lessen the dispersion of the Division, pointing out to the Corps Commander that in the 1MarDiv he had a powerful instrument, but that it could not help being weakened by the dispersion to which it had been subjected. At this time the total separation of the infantry battalions of the division amounted to some 170 miles. [RCT-1 was in the Wonsan area, RCT-5 was in the Sinhung Valley, and RCT-7 was in Sudong-ni, ready to advance further up the MSR.] At the conference I again urged that the situation be reviewed; that in view of the approach of winter, consideration be given to stopping the advance to the north in view of the difficulty of supplying units in the mountains during the winter months.

General Almond had already issued orders for the 1st MarDiv. Basically, the division had two objectives.

The main part of the 1st MarDiv (RCT-5, RCT-7, and the division CP and HQ units) were to advance to the north along the MSR to the Chosin Reservoir and beyond, all the way to the Yalu River – about 150 road miles north of Sudong-ni. They were to destroy any enemy troops or units they encountered.

However, when the division arrived at Hagaru-ri, at the southern tip of the reservoir, it was to send a force, at least battalion-size, to Yudam-ni, a small village on the western side of the reservoir, fourteen miles from Hagaru-ri. The reason for this will be explained in the next section.

RCT-1 had new orders. It would be deployed at three critical points along the MSR, Chinhung-ni, Koto-ri, and Hagaru-ri, to create defensible perimeters within which it could guard cached supplies, and from which it could defend stretches of the MSR.

As I said, these were the ultimate orders. Several things had to happen, largely involving an Army unit, the 7th Infantry Regiment, which was not on the scene yet, before they could be fully implemented, and RCT-1 could revert to 1st MarDiv control. General Smith wrote in his notes that he was reluctant to move RCT-5 and RCT-7 forward until RCT-1 was in place, guarding the MSR.

The Threat From The West

General Smith was very concerned with his wide-open left (western) flank. To the division’s left were the Taebaek Mountains. The Marine’s maps showed one winding road that came all the way through the Taebaeks from their western side. This road ended at Yudam-ni. There were – or had recently been – lots of Chinese at the far end of this road, forty miles west. There were also two roads that left from Yudam-ni and headed south. They both connected to the MSR, one directly.

The first of these two roads led directly to the MSR, at Hagaru-ri, about fourteen miles southeast of Yudam-ni.

The second road led south-southwest, down the Taodong River valley, through the town of Sachang-ni and beyond it. This road was west of the MSR and roughly paralleled it, but did not intersect the MSR. However, there were two east-west side roads that connected the Taodong Valley road and the MSR.

The first of these side roads met the MSR at Koto-ri, which was the Marines’ next stop.

The second of these side roads crossed from Sachang-ni to the MSR at Majon-dong. Most of the 1st MarDiv had already passed through Majon-dong, so this junction was behind them. If the Chinese were to move to Majon-dong from the west, the division would be cut off from their only exit route. This possibility eerily echoed MacArthur’s move at Inchon – to separate the head by cutting through a very elongated neck. The military commanders (Marine and Army) referred to this road as the “Hamhung – Sachang-ni Axis” and considered it a real threat. I will use the abbreviation “H-S Axis” to save a few syllables.

It was clear that Yudam-ni had to be blocked. A strong Marine presence there would block all three access points to the MSR from the west (unless there were any Chinese already on these roads.)

-—

The remaining parts of General Smith’s orders dealt with countering these threats on a temporary basis:

RCT-1 was to patrol through the H-S Axis to find any Chinese who might be there and deal with them. (As it turned out, there were no Chinese there at all.) Once the H-S Axis was cleared, RCT-1 was then to occupy the village of Huksu-ni and establish a blocking position there. Huksu-ni was about ten miles west of Majon-dong, on the Axis.

RCT-5, which had been relieved from its pointless tromp up and down the Sinhung valley, had by now arrived in the Sudong valley. It dropped off the 1/5 Battalion in Majon-dong then continued on to Chinhung-ni, where it joined RCT-7.

When RCT-7 moved on to Koto-ri, another RCT-5 battalion, the 3/5 Marines, would remain in Chinhung-ni. Later, when RCT-7 left Koto-ri and continued on to Hagaru-ri, the third RCT-5 battalion, the 2/5, would remain in Koto-ri.

These arrangements were supposed to be temporary. Relief was coming, in the form of the Army’s 7th Regiment. The problem is that the relief was coming very slowly. The 3rd Infantry Division, of which the 7th Regiment was a part, had begun disembarking at Wonsan on November 5. This process would take nearly two weeks. When completed, a lot of dominos would sequentially fall:

The 7th Regiment would eventually provide elements to take over RCT-1's positions at Hukso-ni and along the H-S Axis and RCT-5's position at Majon-dong.

This would free RCT-1 to take over RCT-5's positions in Chinhung-ni, and Koto-ri, and to set up a third position in Hagaru-ri.

RCT-5 could then join up with RCT-7 and proceed with the advance north along the MSR.

This was the plan, anyway. but the first domino wasn’t in place yet. It wouldn’t be in place until November 20 or so. This caused a lot of headaches for General Smith, and a lot of shuffling of his battalions around. The Marines in those battalions probably thought the brass was entirely nuts.

The 1st MarDiv, now consisting of just its own CP and HQ units and RCT-7, did advance to Chinhung-ni on November 8. The Chinese were gone and the short advance was unopposed. The division was entirely in place by nightfall. The next objective was Koto-ri, ten miles north, on the other end of desolate Funchilin Pass. On November 9, General Smith set up a large cache of ammunition and supplies, and positioned the 3/5 Battalion, which had just arrived, in Chinhung-ni, in accordance with the temporary orders. Elements of RCT-7 spent November 9 patrolling ahead. A couple of the patrols went all the way through the pass, stopping just south of Koto-ri. The patrols did encounter some Chinese gunfire, but whatever forces were there seemed to evaporate as the Marines got closer.

On November 10, the division set out from Chinhung-ni and headed up into the dark lower reaches of Funchilin Pass.

Funchilin Pass – The Mouth Of The Trap

A patrol of RCT-7 looking for a Chinese sniper, north of Chinhung-ni. The MSR through Funchilin pass rises in the background..

Chinhung-ni was located at the extreme northern end of the Sudong Valley. A little further north, less than a mile, was the entrance to desolate Funchilin Pass. The pass was a nightmarish place for an army to march through. In its higher elevations, it was barren and treeless. In the words of General Matthew Ridgway, who took over command of UN operations in Korea after General MacArthur was relieved (i.e. fired), “a narrowing, frightening shelf with an impassible cliff on one side and a chasm on the other.” There was no place to take cover, should the need arise. When the division went through the pass on November 10, it was the overall ease of passage that helped convince General Smith that he was leading his division into a trap.

General Smith described the Funchilin Pass in his notes:

The road from Chinhung-ni to Koto-ri was one lane, winding, and carved out of the mountainside. This resulted in there being a precipitous cliff on one side of the road and an almost vertical drop of several hundred feet on the other side. Temperatures at this time were already dropping to 10 degrees below zero Fahrenheit at night. Such snow as had fallen on this narrow road rapidly became ice under traffic. The engineers were able to widen the road to one and one-half lanes over a considerable portion of the distance, and, eventually, it was possible to pass M26 tanks up the road.

Near the top of the pass was a very narrow concrete bridge. General Smith describes the bridge, its location, and its importance:

The bridge at the gatehouse in Funchilin Pass.

At this point water coming from the Chosin Reservoir by tunnel emerged from the side of the mountain and was discharged into four penstocks [large concrete pipes] which descended steeply down the mountainside to the turbine of the power plant in the valley below. Where the penstocks crossed the road there was a concrete substation, without a floor, on the uphill side of the road covering the penstocks. [The Marines called the substation “the gatehouse.”] On the downhill side of the substation was a one-way concrete bridge. The drop down the mountain side here was sheer. There was no possibility of a bypass. The integrity of this bridge was vital to us, for without it we would have been unable to get out our vehicles, tanks, and guns.

The Chinese, when they disappeared back to the north, had not wrecked the bridge. Had they done so, even Marines on foot would have found passage difficult if not impossible. Had the Chinese destroyed the bridge before the 1st MarDiv got there, that would have seriously delayed or even ended their advance to the north. But they didn’t. To quote David Halberstam,

     To Smith, it was like the dog that hadn’t barked. The failure to blow the bridge on the part of so formidable and shrewd an adversary was a sure sign that the Chinese wanted the Americans to cross it – it was virtually an invitation – but it meant nothing to Almond, so disrespectful was he of his adversary.

     “Smith was sure that they wanted us to come across, and they were going to blow the bridge after we crossed, thus completely isolating us,” said Major (later Major General) James Lawrence, who had been the executive officer at Sudong when the Chinese struck.

General Smith was right. The Chinese did blow the bridge three times after the division passed it. The first two times it was easily repaired by division engineers from Chinhung-ni and Koto-ri. The third time, in early December, it was not repairable by the division. But the story of the Marines’ return to the bridge at the gatehouse and how it was repaired is still a month in the future and will be covered below.

The Division Resumes Its Advance

At dawn on November 10, elements of RCT-5 and RCT-7 left Chinhung-ni and ascended into Funchilin Pass. Their objective was Koto-ri. Lieutenant Owen describes RCT-7's departure.

     We left the Sudong valley, the battalions of the 7th Marines leapfrogging each other in the attack up the single-lane dirt road that wound north into the high country. Charlie Company took the first point [led the column.] They jumped off at dawn and they got clobbered before noon.



     The Chinese tactics had us puzzled; sometimes they fiercely resisted our advance and other times they just faded away to the next ridgeline without firing a shot. That morning, by the time we reached Charlie Company’s position to help them out, the Chinese had withdrawn. There were many Marine casualties, though, and we helped Charlie carry them down the road for the meat wagons. Carrying casualties, like climbing and fighting in these steep hills, was difficult work. Soon we would be doing it every day.

By late afternoon on November 10, the Marine force had all arrived at Koto-ri. They encountered some Chinese there. There was a skirmish with an unknown number of PVA troops just to the west of town. Marine aircraft were called in to attack the enemy positions, which were destroyed. Later some mortar shells landed on Marine positions on the north side, but by the end of the day all was quiet. Lieutenant Owen wasn’t particularly impressed with Koto-ri.

Further into the mountains lay the grim little town of Koto-ri. It stretched along the roadway, a string of shacks rough made of lumber and concrete blocks. Most of the buildings had been wrecked by the ROKs as they were being chased away by the Chinese. Our reconnaissance patrols entered the town and found that the Chinese had now abandoned it as well. Koto-ri was ours for the taking, and it would become the base of operations for Chesty Puller and his 1st Marines when they caught up with us.

-—

Lieutenant Owen noted that cold-weather gear was beginning to be distributed...

Regiment issued heavier sleeping bags, but because of Captain Wilcox’s order we couldn’t get into them at night. We were also given scratchy winter underwear – long johns – and we sweltered in them in the daytime. They were warm at night, though, when the chill set in.

While still in Koto-ri, Lieutenant Owen sent a letter home to his wife.

     One of my replacements [*] just broke out a mirror – first I’ve seen of myself since we left Hamhung, three weeks ago. What a sight! Believe it or not, I have not bathed, shaved, brushed my teeth, or changed my clothes since the Chinese first attacked us. I’d give anything for a bath and to put on clean clothes, but no one in the rifle companies has a chance at such luxuries. We’re all the same, a bunch of scroungy looking people.



     [* – at intervals, when the division was accessible, troops who had been killed or seriously wounded were replaced. This procedure broke down once the division was surrounded and was in nearly continuous combat. At that point, the division absorbed a high rate of loss at all organizational levels.]

That night, the night of November 10, winter arrived on the Kaema Plateau, which included at Koto-ri.

Colder Than Hell

On November 10, a cold front from Siberia descended from the north and the temperature plunged in interior North Korea. By November 14 the cold had descended to both coastlines. For the remainder of the Chosin canpaign , nighttime temperatures were as low as −35 °F. In the daytime, temperatures seldom rose above 0 °F. It was the coldest winter in about a century. General Smith describes the Marines reaction to the sudden arrival of the Siberian cold.

On the night of 10-11 November when RCT-7 was located in Koto-ri, the temperature dropped sharply from approximately 32 Fahrenheit to 8 below zero F accompanied by 20- to 30-knot wind. The subzero temperature experienced by RCT-7 at Koto-ri produced an immediate shock reaction on many troops. More than 200 men in various degrees of collapse turned into aid stations for treatment. The medical officers reported these men to be dazed and stunned, with a number of cases having very low respiratory rates. Stimulants were required in addition to warming in order to restore the men to normal functioning. After the initial reaction the men became more accustomed to very low temperatures, for although even more severe weather was encountered later, the shock reaction did not reappear.

The ground froze. Walking on it all day caused an increased danger of frostbite. The Marines had to change their socks twice a day – wet socks could cost a Marine his feet. The roads were icy. Vehicles had trouble staying on them. (General Walker, commander of the US Eighth Army was killed when his Jeep skidded off an icy road. )

Lieutenant Owen describes the effect the cold had on the troops and their operations.

     The cold weather was as formidable an enemy as the Chinese. The troops, never prone to minimize a problem, declared that temperature readings were down to thirty below, fahrenheit. There was a thermometer back at regiment, and the daily action reports confirmed the troops’ judgement. Rarely did the reports exceed zero degrees, and there were lows of twenty below.



     When we weren’t on the move, we were freezing cold and we spent much of our energy trying to keep warm. Battalion had warming stations, big pyramid tents with kerosene stoves in them, which we rarely used because they were far from our company perimeters. Up on the line we had only our body warmth, which we tried to keep enclosed within the parkas. At night, in the foxholes, the men pressed together to preserve whatever warmth they could generate.



     We wore woolen caps under the helmets that kept our ears from freezing. The hoods of the parkas went over the helmets and provided some protection from the bitter winds, but they obscured our peripheral vision. We seldom removed the knitted gloves that we wore underneath canvas mittens. Bare fingers, we found, froze to metal; they froze to weapons, bayonets, buckles, whatever we touched.



     Chow was usually a can of half-frozen rations, although we learned to carry the next meal inside our clothing, close to our body heat, so it wouldn’t freeze solid. In daylight, when we weren’t under direct enemy observation, we made small cooking fires. The unused mortar propellant charges served to make a quick starter flame. The mortarmen did a good business trading the propellant charges for cigarettes and fruit rations.



     Down on the road, if there was a vehicle nearby, we filched gasoline, then poured it over any dirt or gravel that we managed to scrape from under the snow, and that made a skimpy but adequate fire. We learned that trick from one of our reservists who had been in Europe, the Battle of the Bulge, in 1944.



     The cold ration diet caused stomach disorders. We alternated between constipation and diarrhea. It was common to see a man suddenly scamper from the column to the nearest tree or boulder, then desperately unbuckle, unbutton, and slide down several layers of trousers, long johns, and skivvies before he let go. Many times he wouldn’t make it…



     Weapons froze and seized up when we used lubricating oil on them. They slowed and jammed when we didn’t. The machine guns and BARs were most affected; on first firing they would hesitate two or three seconds between rounds, then slowly build up to their regular rate of fire. Hair tonic, with alcohol in it, became a fairly effective substitute lubricant. At first the hair tonic was hard to come by, but soon battalion began sending it along with our ammo and rations.



     The cold forced the corpsmen to change their way of doing business. With the first sounds of a firefight they would take several syrettes of morphine and put them in their mouths. This kept the morphine liquid until the syrettes were jammed into a wounded man’s flesh to relieve his pain.

The corpmen were the only ones who worked with bare hands in the severe cold, and they found a way to keep their fingers nimble while tending a wounded man. The heat of the man’s blood did the trick, or his guts, as they were stuffed back into the belly.

In addition, the bodies of the dead quickly froze, in whatever position they had been in when they died. The temperature did not significantly warm up until long after the last Marine had left the Reservoir. If anything, it got colder.

Next Part

Prior Parts

Part 1 -- Introduction

Part 2 -- The Korean War Begins

Part 3 -- MacArthur's War

Part 4 -- First Encounter With The Chinese

My Father At Frozen Chosin -- Part 5: Another Victim Of Trump's Budget

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Thursday March 16, 2017 · 7:31 PM PDT

2017/03/16 · 19:31

I am putting up a series of diaries — thirteen in all — about the US Marine Corps’ battles at the Chosin Reservoir. I am on the West Coast, so by the time I get a diary done, it is early AM on the East Coast. A few hours later that day’s deluge of Trump-Shit overwhelms everything else. A reader suggested that when I put these diaries up, I set the release time to around noon EDT. That way I stood a chance of being seen in the current circumstances, So, the real part 5 will up later and will be accessible tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Trump is such a glutton. He devours all the oxygen.

Teaser — the real Part 5 subtitle is “Where Have All The Chinese Gone?”

My Father At Chosin Reservoir -- Part 4: First Encounter With The Chinese

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Wednesday March 15, 2017 · 7:13 PM PDT

2017/03/15 · 19:13

Near the village of Sudong-ni on November 3, 1950, after a night of heavy fighting. The road to the Chosin Reservoir goes up the canyon to the right of center, through Funchilin Pass,

The Road From The Coast To The Chosin Reservoir
The Peoples Volunteer Army

The Chinese “First Phase Offensive”
The Battle Of Sudong-ni

Aftermath

The Road From The Coast To The Chosin Reservoir

     The area where the Chosin Reservoir is located is called the Kaema Plateau, the “Roof of Korea.” The entire area is both very isolated and very sparsely populated. The hills were largely barren and devoid of trees. The elevation of the Chosin Reservoir is approximately 1,060 meters (∼3,500 feet) above sea level; the plateau slightly higher. The surrounding mountains reach over 2,000 meters (∼6,500 feet) in height. In January and February, temperature extremes can plunge to 40 below zero. The winter of 1950 came early, with ice beginning to form on lakes and streams in early November as the temperature continued to fall. By late November, the reservoir was frozen solid.

A section of the Main Supply Road (MSR) from Oro-ri through to the Chosin Reservoir.

There was only one “main” road into the area, a north-south road. The Marines called it the “Main Supply Road” — MSR. This road began at the coast at Hamhung, passed through Hungnam and Oro-ri, then ran north through valleys and the rugged gorge of Funchilin Pass, to the Chosin Reservoir, which it skirted on the eastern side and then beyond, all the way to the Yalu River. The portion of the MSR from Hungnam, where the Marines first came to the road, to Hagaru-ri, a town at the very southern tip of the Chosin Reservoir is about fifty-six miles long. It was narrow and poorly maintained, made up of dirt and gravel the whole way.

The lower part of the road, from Hamhung up to the village of Majon-dong, was on rising but relatively level terrain. This stretch is twenty-two miles long. Above Majon-dong the road entered a narrow valley with increasingly steep hills on both sides. The Marines called it the Sudong Valley. A map carried by an artilleryman attached to the 7th Marines still survives. On it, he captioned it “Nightmare Alley.”

Proceeding further north on the road, the valley narrowed. At Sudong-ni, a small village seven miles north of Majon-dong, the valley floor was less than a mile wide and was closely hemmed in by steep, wooded hills.

In the evening of November 2, RCT-7 would set up their encampment about one mile south of Sudong-ni. Later that night, they would meet the Chinese army for first time.

Six miles north of Sudong-ni was another small village named Chinhung-ni. Chinhung-ni marked the entrance to Funchilin Pass, through which the road, now little more than an ox-cart track, ascended about three thousand feet into the mountains. In much of the pass, the track was actually on bare mountainside; very narrow, with no shoulders to speak of. A force as large as RCT-7 would have to travel in a very long column, one company at a time.

At the north end of the pass, the terrain flattened out into another long valley with steep mountains on both sides. This valley would later be nicknamed “Hell-Fire Valley.” At this point, where the pass ended and the valley began was another small town named Koto-ri. The distance from Chinhung-ni to Koto-ri was ten miles. Eleven miles north of Koto-ri was Hagaru-ri and the Chosin Reservoir itself.

Hagaru-ri, Hell-Fire Valley, Koto-ri, Funchilin Pass, and Chinhung-ni would all become very important places to the 1st Marine Division in December. Sudong-ni would be important much sooner.

-—

No one had seen more than a few Chinese soldiers yet, but they were beginning to come into North Korea, quietly, moving only at night, but in great numbers – about 180,000 in the first wave in mid-October, another 120,000 in mid-November. This latter wave, when it came, was in the form of General Song’s PVA Ninth Army, had as its destination the Chosin Reservoir and its target the 1st MarDiv.

The Peoples Volunteer Army

Shortly after North Korea invaded South Korea in late June, Chairman Mao anticipated that the Chinese would eventually have to intervene. On July 13, Mao ordered that the Thirteenth Army – a unit of the PLA (People’s Liberation Army – China’s regular, active duty army) – to move from southern China to Manchuria (northeastern China) which bordered North Korea. The Thirteenth Army ultimately consisted of six infantry corps, each of which had three infantry divisions – eighteen infantry divisions overall. There were also three artillery divisions and various support regiments which were attached to the Army headquarters. Altogether, at the time of deployment in North Korea, the Thirteenth Army totaled about 250,000 men, 180,000 of whom were infantrymen. On October 19, under strict secrecy, it completed crossing the Yalu River, using the name Chinese People's Volunteer Army (PVA.) Five of its six corps moved into northwestern North Korea, which would put it in directly in front of the advancing US Eighth Army and the ROK I Corps. The remaining corps, the 42nd, headed toward the Chosin Reservoir.

The name “Peoples Volunteer Army” was meant to be misleading. The soldiers were thinly disguised regular troops of the People’s Liberation Army. They wore essentially identical uniforms with identical insignia. Chairman Mao did not want to give any appearance to the world that his regulars were fighting the United States, so he came up with the fiction that they were just “volunteers” who wanted to help out their fraternal neighbors in North Korea. Some of these troops had as much as fifteen or twenty years of active duty combat experience. They were hardy and well-disciplined, fierce fighters and thoroughly formidable opponents.

I refer to Chinese military units as “PVA” to differentiate between Chinese and American units with similar names. For example PVA 124th Division vs. US 7th Infantry Division. Military writers of the time did not use the PVA acronym. They use instead CCF, for “Communist Chinese Forces.” General Smith referred to the PVA 124th Division as the 124th CCF Division. On battlefield maps of the era the same CCF nomenclature was often used. I consider this term slightly derogatory, considering the era, and prefer not to use it.

The PVA’s huge number of hardy, veteran fighters was a distinct advantage. But the PVA had serious problems which became apparent soon after they entered the war. They were essentially a guerilla army. They were excellent at strong surprise attacks, but they were not so good at sustained campaigns. They were not mechanized. They didn’t use many trucks or other vehicles to move troops or supplies. Everywhere PVA troops went, they walked. They were unable to bring most of their artillery with them from China. They used unskilled porters to carry their ammunition, food, and other supplies on foot. The porters often couldn’t keep up with the soldiers, so PVA units frequently outran their supply line. The PVA troops were used to foraging for food during their attacks, but forage was nearly impossible in the barren landscape around the reservoir, particularly after everything froze. Troops were malnourished – some starved to death, many more were significantly weakened by malnutrition.

Later on, as the weather began to worsen and the advancing Marines took control of the road, the PVA was forced to abandon much of their equipment and whatever artillery they had managed to bring from China. It became too difficult to move heavy items through steep, snow-covered mountains. As the weather became dangerously cold, after November 14, the Chinese were affected by it more severely than the UN troops, who did timely receive winter gear. Initially the PLA had been scheduled for outfitting with winter gear in Manchuria during November. This didn’t happen. The rapidity of the UN advance toward Manchuria forced Mao’s hand. He had to send his PVA into North Korea beginning in October with the gear they had. As the result, the PLA received almost no winter gear for the harsh Korean winter. By the end of the Chosin campaign, more Chinese troops died from the cold than from combat and air raids.

The Chinese “First Phase Offensive”

On October 25, the PVA launched what the Chinese called the “First Phase Offensive.” They had two targets.

o Inland from the west coast the US Eighth Army was still moving north. Its right flank – the eastern side of the line of advance – was covered by the ROK II Corps. On October 25, they had reached the small town of Onjong.

o In the center of North Korea, moving up the MSR from Hungnam, was the ROK 26th Infantry Regiment. They had been detached from the ROK I Corps a few days earlier in Wonsan.

The rest of ROK I Corps was continuing up the east coast road but was not an immediate target. US X Corps was still at sea.

The Battles of Onjong and Unsan

The main focus of the First Phase Offensive was to be in the west. The first part of this was called the Battle of Onjong, which began on October 25 and lasted four days. The PVA 38th and 40th Corps conducted a series of ambushes against elements of the ROK II Corps, which was covering the right flank of the US Eighth Army on its northward advance. The ROK 6th Infantry Division and the 10th Infantry Regiment were destroyed. The survivors fell back about ten miles to rejoin the rest of ROK II Corps, near the town of Kuna-ri.

By November 1, the PVA 39th Corps had encircled the US 8th Cavalry Regiment and the ROK 15th Infantry Regiment, which were leading the Eighth Army continuing advance toward the Yalu. On November 1, the PVA attacked these regiments and overran their positions in what became known as the Battle of Unsan. This was the first direct confrontation ever between Chinese and US forces. The survivors of the battles at Onjong and Unsan pulled back to positions south of the Chongchon River to regroup.

At the same time the PVA 124th Division, part of the 42nd Corps, had passed completely through the Chosin Reservoir area and continued south along the MSR. The ROK 26th Infantry Regiment was moving north on the same road. They were establishing small hilltop perimeters as they moved north. They began encountering the Chinese on October 29, in the upper part of the Sudong valley. By November 2, they were destroyed and most of the perimeters on hilltops they had set up were gone, though some were still in place. ROK survivors fled to the south. The 7th Marines, advancing north on the road, encountered these survivors. Lieutenant Owen describes encountering these fleeing ROK soldiers as the RCT-7 arrived in the Sudong area.

     The sky darkened ahead. The road twisted into the mountains and, as we marched we began to see South Korean soldiers streaming toward us from the opposite direction. Soaked with sweat, they ran through us without formation; many were without their weapons. Fright showed on their faces. They were the shreds of the 26th ROK Regiment who had been pushed off their hilltop positions before Able and Charlie could relieve them.



      “Chinee. Many, many,” they called to us. Captain Wilcox came on the walkie-talkies and told us to stand by to move out in any direction. He added, however, that no Chinese were on the hill we were to occupy. The South Koreans were still holding there, waiting for us.

The Battle of Sudong-ni

When the Chinese began their First Phase Offensive the Marines were still in Hamhung. They didn’t begin their advance until October 29, going north on the road they had dubbed the MSR. The MSR was…

...little more than a packed earth trail, barely wide enough for the trucks. Hard work would be required of the division‘s engineers before the road could bear the tanks and tractors that pulled the artillery pieces. For the rifle companies, inadequate roads meant that we would go short on support from the big guns and tanks.

On November 2, RCT-7 was approaching Sudong-ni. The unit was about a mile south of it when they stopped for the night. The 1st Battalion was in front, with the 2nd and 3rd closely behind. Baker/1/7's position for the night was on a hillside a little west of the road. Lieutenant Owen remembers a conversation he had with 1Lt Graeber, leader of 2nd Platoon, regarding a few Chinese prisoners they had seen earlier.

     “Did you get a look at those Chinese prisoners,” I asked.



     “I saw them being interrogated,” said Graeber, the former military cop. “Good- looking soldiers, well fed and healthy. They had on regular Chinese Army uniforms and insignia. They didn’t try to hide any information. Told the ROKs everything they wanted to know.”



     “Probably didn’t want any torture treatment,” I said. “Those ROKs can get mean when they ask questions.” We had seen the South Koreans working over their prisoners outside of Seoul.



“Nope. Those [Chinese] sounded as thought they had memorized a script. Name, rank, serial stuff, plus unit number, size, weapons descriptions. They have been up in the hills north of here for two weeks already. They’re waiting for us to come at them.”



     “They gave you all that information without persuasion?” It seemed strange that the enemy would be so forthcoming.



      “They wanted us to know. Their generals wanted us Marine capitalist dogs to know what we’re up against.”



     I said goodbye to my buddy and went to give my people a final check.



      “Joe, another thing,” Bill yelled after me. “The prisoners told us that there were ten more divisions hiding in the hills ahead.”

One of those divisions was a lot closer. Unknown to LtCol Homer Litzenberg, the commander of the 7th Marines, his regiment was two-thirds surrounded by the PVA 124th Division. One of its regiments was in the hills to his northwest. Another one was in the hills to his east. A third regiment was being held in reserve nearby.

Baker/1/7 had a new tactical air control officer, 1LT Bob Wilson, whom we meet near nightfall on November 2nd, as the Company is digging in for the night. All three companies dug in part way up the mountainsides; battalion HQ dug in on the valley floor, near the road.

      Digging a hole a few yards from Caney [Sgt Milt Caney, the company Top Sergeant] was a second lieutenant I didn’t recognize. He introduced himself as Bob Wilson, sent forward by regiment to be our air-ground liaison officer. He was a fighter pilot by trade, and he had flown support for us in the fight down south.



      It was Bob Wilson’s first night with a rifle company. I kidded him about the enormous size of his hole as he dug away, thigh deep in dirt and rocks. He gazed upward at the Corsairs that were searching the valley for prey. “I’d like the war a lot better if I could fight it up there,” he said.



“Not me,” I replied. “I’d rather be down here where I can jump into a hole when the shooting starts.”

The Chinese attack began after midnight, in the early hours of November 3. As the Marines would soon learn, the Chinese customarily began their attacks late at night with flares overhead, bugle calls, and whistles to send commands to the troops. The fighting continued all night. All three of 1st Battalion’s rifle companies suffered heavy casualties. When morning came, there were still Chinese soldiers in the valley. Air and artillery attacks throughout the day managed to flush out the Chinese and fragment their formations into small groups and individuals. Lt Owen describes the beginning of the Chinese attack, starting with one Marine’s slightly spooky early warning...

     Pat Burris [a mortar squad leader] slept comfortably in the roomy, burlap-lined hole he had inherited from the ROKs. Suddenly, though, a loud command was shouted, “Out of your hole, Burris! Out of that hole! On the double!”



     He kicked the sleeping bag off his legs, snapped his carbine to ready, and scrambled out of the hole. “And stay out of there!” The command seemed loud enough to alert the entire mountain, but no one else in the mortar section stirred.



     Burris crawled through the dark to Sergeant Wright’s hole. “You want me? What’s up?” he demanded.



     “No, I don’t want you, “ answered Wright.



     “What did you call me for, then?”



     “Whaddya talking about? I didn’t call you. You getting shook already, Pat?”



     “Somebody just yelled for me to get out of my hole. You didn’t hear somebody yelling?”



     “I didn’t hear a damn thing. Haven’t heard a sound since I took the watch.”



     “Hey, somebody called me out of my hole,” Burris insisted. “The lieutenant didn’t call me either?”



     “Nobody called you.”



     Corporal Burris was puzzled. He returned to his bunker and pulled his sleeping bag out of there. He spread it on the ground and put his legs into it. He would sleep outside tonight. He knew that someone had called him to get out of that hole. Or something.

Meanwhile...

In the brush before Kiser’s platoon, Chinese assault squads waited in disciplined for the rockets and bugles that would signal them to attack. Their quilted uniforms kept them from shivering in the chill night. They already knew, in detail, how Kiser’s defenses were set up and the location of each forward hole and our weapons. During the late afternoon their officers watched Baker-One-Seven dig in, and they knew our line as well as we did. Under cover of darkness, the assault teams had crept noiselessly into their jump-off positions, within grenade range of Marine lines.

These soldiers were honored that they would be the first Chinese to attack American Marines. Marines, they were taught to believe, were selected from the dregs of imperialism, the scum of a criminal society. Marines were vile men, chosen for their depravity, and given license to rape and plunder. They were to be exterminated like snakes in a hole. And like all oppressors, went the doctrine, Marines would turn coward and flee before the righteous Chinese liberators.

The Red soldiers were made even more confident by their easy wins the past week against the ROKs. It heartened them, too, that fifty miles to the west their comrades of the People’s Liberation Army had struck at American Army units and sent them into disorderly retreat. [This refers to the battles of Onjong and Unsan.] Paper tiger, the American Army. Bullies to be taught a lesson, the American Marines.

     The sound of a rocket ripping through the air close above us jolted me awake and brought me upright in our hole. A streak of fluorescent green crossed out line, followed by a red rocket from the other direction. Bugles blared and whistles shrilled along the Sudong Valley. The luminous hands on my watch said 0300. Baker-One-Seven was under attack.



     A sudden clamor erupted from Hank Kiser’s side of the hill: the eerie chant, “M’leen die! M’leen die!” issuing from a chorus of Chinese voices, then the crash of mortars, the boom of concussion grenades, and the sharp sputter of burp guns. Seconds later there was the deeper sound of answering Marine rifles and BARs, joined by the pounding of our machine guns and explosions of Marine grenades. The screams of wounded men soon added to the melange of sounds, along with profanities of rage in both languages. More rockets streaked above, splashing eerie tints of green and red. Enemy mortars walked the ridgeline, thundering along the company CP and raining clods of earth on my mortarmen. One of the first rounds landed past its designated target, the CP, and was a direct hit on the hole that Pat Burris had so recently evacuated.



     An ammo carrier – Branek? – fired his carbine into the darkness. Sergeant Wright cursed at him and told him to cease fire. Winget and Burris were at their guns, ready for orders. I yelled for Winget to throw illumination over Kiser’s front. The field telephone gave its dull ring and Kelly handed it to me. [Sgt Mark Winget was a mortar squad leader. Cpl Robert Kelly was Lt Owen’s runner – later his unofficial “guardian.”)



      Captain Wilcox was on the hook. He said that the line to Kiser had been blown out. There was no way we could get fire direction from that flank. He wanted illumination over there.



     “It’s on the way, Skipper,” I said, just as the flare popped high in the air, over the left end of the   perimeter, and the sky turned a garish blue-white.



     Burris didn’t wait for me to order the HEs [High explosive mortar shells.] He already had three rounds up and headed for the registered target area. Winget had another round of illumination on the way by the time Burris’ HEs exploded in front of Kiser’s line. Kee-rack! Kee-rack! Kee-rack! We heard them go off from seven hundred yards away.



     A string of enemy mortar shells, incoming, hit between our position and the CP. My phone line to the skipper went dead. I put Kelly’s hand on our end of the wire and told him to follow it to the break and make a splice.



     “Take a man with you, “ I told Kelly. “Take Perkins.” Then I shouted, “Perkins! Get over here!” [Pfc Merwin Perkins was a mortar ammo carrier.]



      Merwin Perkins came crashing over to us and threw himself to the deck. In the bluish reflection from the star shells his eyes showed big and white, as did Kelly’s. Two scared Marines. Three, counting me. The night had quickly turned scary.



      Kelly said, “Let’s go, Perk,” and they crawled on all fours, following the broken wire. Perkins said nothing. He went behind Kelly and they were gone into the night.



      In front of Kiser’s platoon our illumination lit the ground and revealed the Chinese attackers already pouring into the Marine positions. The following salvo of our HEs, one hundred yards out, landed without effect, well behind the Chinese assault. With the phone line to Kiser cut, and no help from the walkie-talkies, we could not adjust our fire to come in closer. Except for the illumination, our mortars were of no help, and we were short on illumination.



     Chinese grenades exploded into the line and their burp guns blazed. The first wave of enemy soldiers rushed in, and the forward holes were buried in mounds of quilted uniforms. Clubbing and stabbing, the Chinese surged up the 3rd Platoon’s hill. Behind them were left dead Marines and wounded men who cried for for the help of their corpsman.



     Ed Toppel’s hole was near the top of the hill, next to Lieutenant Kiser. The eruption of battle below awakened him. At the cries of “Corpsman! Corpsman!” he grabbed his aid bag and hurtled down the black slope toward the noise. In the dark, he collided with Sergeant Archie Van Winkle [platoon sergeant for the 3rd platoon,] and the pair tumbled toward the ground.



     As Van Winkle and Toppel got up, they found themselves caught in the midst of a forward squad of onrushing Chinese. Toppel pulled out his pistol and shot into the enemy soldiers. By the light of muzzle flashes and exploding grenades he glimpsed Van Winkle firing his carbine on automatic and slashing his bayonet at the Chinese swarm. Then he saw the burly Van Winkle lift a Chinese above his head and hurl him into a group of enemy soldiers. They fell into a heap; Van Winkle and Toppel fired into them.



      Van Winkle threw a grenade into the next squad of attackers and charged down the hill at them. He yelled for the shaken Marines to come with him, and they rallied with rifles and BARs. The enemy pulled back before his revived men and faded into the night.



      Ed Toppel crawled from man to man, using the light of rifle flashes and exploding grenades to tend the wounded. He worked flat on his belly and was soon soaked with the blood of wounded men. Bullets grazed the slope and shrapnel whined past his head, but Toppel willed his hands to stop trembling while he worked and prayed.

      Van Winkel readied the Marines near him for the next Chinese attack, putting his people into recaptured fighting holes. The men stacked Chinese bodies in front of the holes for greater protection. Somebody yelled to Van Winkle that his own shoulder was bleeding. The big sergeant felt his arm and found that a Chinese bullet had indeed passed through it. Toppel was busy, so Van Winkle asked one of the riflemen to sprinkle the shoulder with sulfa powder and wrap it with the compress bandage from his aid pouch. He put the foil-wrapped morphine syringe into his pocket for later use.



     Nearby, a man sat on the ground, sobbing and shaking. “My buddy! My buddy! [Chinese] shot his head clean off!”



     The orange glare of a Chinese grenade illuminated the sobbing Marine. Van Winkle crawled to the man and grasped his arm, saying, “Come on with me, kid. You’ll be all right.” He rose from the ground and pulled the kid from the ground with him. Together they headed for the center of the platoon position, where the enemy fire was more intense.



     Further up the hill, Hank Kiser gathered together all the nearby Marines and prepared to counter the Chinese thrust. They were now hitting furiously at every point. Communication with the rest of the company was lost; he had no means to call for supporting fire or reinforcements to plug the gaps and push back the attackers. He sent his runner, Jack Gallapo, up the trail to the company CP to restore contact. Then he mustered the few men he could find in the confused darkness and rushed down the spine of the hill where his center squad was losing ground to the rampaging Chinese.



      Immediately a storm of enemy bullets hit the small detail and forced it to the ground. Kiser hastily organized a meager line. Telling his men to hold there, he went in search of more Marines to help stem the attack.



      The push on the center of Kiser’s line, across the lower spine of the hill,was the enemy’s main effort, and they quickly massed their grenadiers and assault squads to exploit the penetration. The first wave of their soldiers stormed forward but were dropped to the deck, casualties of the rifles and BARs that Kiser had placed above them. More of them charged through, climbing over the bodies of their fallen comrades. They were checked again, this time by a barrage of Marine grenades. More Chinese poured in, then more. One Marine foxhole fell silent, then another. The Marines who gave way crawled up the hill, turning to fire into the relentless enemy and tossing scarce grenades.



     Kiser moved from man to man, building a base of aimed fire on the Chinese who kept coming on.

Archie Van Winkle now found himself on the lower fringes of the Chinese attack. He ignored his wounded shoulder and fired his carbine, one-handed. He called for nearby Marines to follow and launched his own attack into the flank of the Chinese who were moving up toward Kiser.

That was about six pages from Lieutenant Owen’s book. The rest of that one long night took up another twelve pages. While Baker-One-Seven was engaged in its desperate struggle with the PVA, Lieutenant Wilson, the tactical air controller, was engaged in a struggle of his own, starting with being abruptly awakened by a Chinese mortar shell.

     The air liaison officer, 2Lt Bob Wilson, spent his first night in a foxhole at the forward edge of the Baker-One-Seven command post. He had selected a good position for his air-control work; the slope in front of his hole was too steep for the enemy to climb, and when daylight came he would have a long, unobstructed view up the valley.



     When enemy mortars began to pound the CP, one round exploded just yards from his deep hole. Wilson, jolted from sleep by the ear-splitting noise, emerged from his bag and was just coming out of his hole when another round hit, close by. The shrapnel missed, but the concussion carried him through the air and landed him part way down the hill. He couldn’t climb back up. The slope was too steep and the incoming mortars were landing close together on the ridge.



     His only alternative was to go down into the valley. Wilson began to feel his way downward. He hoped he would be able to dodge the platoons of Chinese he knew were crisscrossing the wooded terrain below. And he hoped, too, that tomorrow would be a clear day so that he could hurl his death-dealing Corsairs at the Chinese mortars that were causing him these difficulties tonight.

Later that same night...

Bob Wilson, the air-ground controller who had been blown out of his hole at the CP found himself in heavy brush at the base of the steep hill. By the light of the battle he oriented himself to the road and the railroad tracks and started crawling. He didn’t get far before he heard men moving close by, a large force of Chinese moving south on his side of the tracks. Armed only with his pistol, the earthbound aviator determined that he had neither tactical advantage nor sufficient firepower to oppose this superior force. Burrowing under a heavy clump of brush, he vowed revenge for this humiliation…

We don’t hear about Bob Wilson against at Sudong-ni, but he is with the company later at Toktong Pass. In the events that follow, the tactical air controller is 1Lt Danny Holland, who was with the Company at Uijongbu. Sometime late that night, a single North Korean T-34 tank came down the road through Baker Company’s 2nd Platoon. In Lieutenant Owen’s words, it…

     ...barreled through them, its machine guns blazing, its powerful searchlight picking out targets. Neither the ROKs nor our own intelligence had warned of enemy armor. As a result, Jim Kovar’s rocket launcher was not set up, and Graeber was not armed to repel the huge clanking monster that sped through their line. Graeber’s men held fire as the tank roared by, staying low in their holes on both sides of the road and along the railroad tracks. The best the platoon could do was to fix bayonets, prepare grenades, and wait for the enemy foot soldiers they expected would soon follow. [Pvt Jim Kovar, rocket gunner]

And follow they did, but it was poorly executed. The soldiers were too far behind the tank, and were beaten back. The tank, when its crew realized they were was all by themselves without any support, reversed course and went back up the road the same way they had come. This tank, and three others would be encountered again, very soon.

According to Lieutenant Owen...

Baker-One-Seven lost more men that night than we had in the entire five days against the North Koreans south of Uijongbu. Captain Wilcox raised hell when he heard that Sergeant Dale and his men were killed in their sleeping bags. He made it standard operating procedure that the company stay out of their sleeping bags at night when we were on line. “Tell your people that they can put their feet in the bags and loosen their boondockers. That’s as far as they go,” he told us. [Sgt Dale had been the 1st Platoon guide.]

From then on, no matter how cold it became, we slept outside of our bags and our boots came off only to exchange socks.

Aftermath

Total Marine casualties for the two days of battle were 52 killed and 264 wounded (General Smith’s figures.) The 7th Marines had about 2250 combat infantrymen, so this is a significant number of casualties – nearly 15%. But the PVA 124th Division was in much worse shape. It was so badly mauled that it was eliminated as an effective fighting force for several months. General Smith later wrote, about the Chinese losses...

In RCT-7's action against the 124th CCF Division from 2 to 7 November, reports indicated that about 1500 of the enemy had been killed, 62 prisoners were captured and all regiments of the 124th were identified. POW interrogation indicated that losses were heavier than reported by RCT-7. These interrogations revealed that losses were particularly heavy from artillery fire and that the combination of infantry, artillery, and air action had so decimated the division that not more than 3000 of the original 12,500 were left as a group. The combat effectiveness of this division was manifestly destroyed. It was several months before it appeared on the front again.

After the battle ended, the surviving Chinese soldiers vanished into the hills, just like they had after Unsan. Sergeant Van Winkle was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his bravery in the Battle of Sudong. He recovered from his wounds and returned to action. Later he received a commission and retired from the Marine Corps as a Colonel.

-—

The battle of Sudong-ni can be considered to be the opening skirmish of the Chosin Reservoir campaign, which began three weeks later and in several locations further north. It was the first meeting between the Marines and the Chinese army. It gave each one an idea of the others’ tactics and their strengths and weaknesses. Both sides adjusted their tactics after this. The ultimate course of the Battle of the Chosin Reservoir was in part determined by this smaller battle.

The Marines learned that to “nullify Chinese night attacks, regardless of large-scale penetrations and infiltration, defending units had only to maintain position until daybreak. With observation restored, Marine firepower invariable would melt down the Chinese mass into impotency.” They would put this into use very soon.

The Chinese decided that the best way to deal with the advancing Marines was to pull back into the hills and set a gigantic trap for them. The Chinese plan was to occupy the hills around the Kaema plateau, around the Chosin Reservoir, moving only at night to remain unseen. Once the 1st MarDiv had moved onto the plateau, then the entire Chinese Ninth Army would surround and attack them simultaneously from all directions with overwhelming force. The Chinese knew who their opponent was. They though it would be a great achievement to annihilate an entire Marine Division, which had never been done before.

Five weeks later, on December 11, the Marines would pass through here again, after fifteen days of constant fighting and twenty-five days of bitter cold. Waiting for them then would also be Chinese soldiers, other ones, who would give the 1st Marines the last battle of the Chosin campaign. It would be a much smaller battle — both sides were exhausted, and were in much smaller numbers. It would be a fitting goodbye to the Chosin Reservoir.

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