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A DAY IN SEPTEMBER It was a nice balmy day that first week of September 1951. But, not one I will ever forget. One of the officers of Able Company Seventh Marines was briefing the men of the First platoon. “Men it is unlikely that you will see “Charlie” today as it looks like he pulled back from 673 so your job will be to go up there and blow up his positions so he won’t have positions to return to in case he decides to return. It should be a very routine mission so hurry home” Sounded like a lot of fun to me! Guy Taylor a member of the first fire team and my good friend always joked: Its hell to be on the “1st.” anything! For example if a tough assignment came up in Regimental Headquarters, some general would say. “Lets give that to the First battalion! “Then the First battalion Commander usually said. “Let’s let Able Company have that one!” In the Company CP, they would say. “The first platoon can handle this!” The, you guessed it! “Hey first squad get that first fire team up here!” Well we think that is how our fire team was chosen for the point of the patrol…on that day in September. We passed through Baker Company lines into “No mans land”. As we crossed the edge of the valley, there was a shallow stream off to your left and in the middle of the stream was the remains of a dead gook. I recall that unmistakable, sickening, sweet smell of death. You think of “Charlie” as being short normally but this guy was close to seven feet tall. His decaying flesh was black and the eye sockets empty. I bet he had been a hell of a basketball player in Inje High. I estimate 673 was located about a mile across the valley from Able’s positions. A week earlier, we had occupied an outpost in front of the lines, which had a good view of 673 across the valley. There was very little activity then but you could see a gook moving around now and then. That outpost turned out to be very tragic for a couple of our Marines. One of them a boot camp buddy and fellow Texan, John Fryer, was seriously wounded. John’s account of his experiences inspired me to write this piece. Though I had thought about writing something but just never got around to it until this past week …..Thanks John! As the point arrived at 673, I was about 20 feet from a huge bunker and it appeared that there was nobody home. And then as the old saying goes, ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE !!! Machine gun fire was coming from all directions. Bullets whizzed around us cutting trees and branches… many times in the past have asked myself; “why didn’t you charge up that last 20 feet and throw a grenade thru the aperture of that bunker? … The answer I always get is: “Because I was scared out of my wits, you silly sonofabitch! Why didn’t you do it? Anyway, I scrambled back a few yards and hit the deck. I lay on my back, pulled out, and lit a Camel cigarette. I listened to the bullets whizzing overhead. This firefight lasted about 2 Camels and then abruptly stopped. I waited another 10 minutes and started making my way back to the platoon. The platoon had left so decided I would also and started down the hill toward the valley. Shortly two shots rang out toward me from 673. Then the voice (in gook English) yelled, “HALT”. I thought, “that sonofabitch missed me twice and now he wants me to HALT?” Screw you Charlie! I was moving on! Pulling a Hank Snow! I ran on down the hill about 100 yards and stopped just a minute. I could see the top of 673 and assumed they could see me also so I changed directions and moved over another 100 yards. I stopped on the edge of a ravine where I could no longer see the top of 673 but I could see the place I last stopped. I felt sure they would come down looking for me so I lay down by a large tree and waited. I guess I was there about 15 minutes and during this time talked to God and Jesus, and anyone else who would listen! I made every promise I could think of I said “if you can only get me out of this mess I will go to church every Sunday and any other time you are open!” I began to hear voices and in a few minutes this gook appeared at the same spot I thought he would. He was talking to someone else that I couldn’t see and he was looking in my direction. I didn’t think he saw me because of his casual manner and was pretty sure that they thought I was already back in Corpus Christi, Texas by then! Even though he had his weapon slung on his shoulder, I just didn’t want to chance it. I leveled my M1 at him and squeezed off a round which hit him in the stomach chest area and knocked him down screaming! A terrific feeling of contentment ran through me and at that moment, the fear was gone. With them in turmoil, it seemed like a good time for me to exit. I reached the rice paddies, which were terraced down to the bottom of the valley like giant stairs. These paddies were about 50 feet wide and then they would drop off 3 feet to the next one. Burp gun and machine gun fire followed me as I ran across the paddies. At each drop off, I would crawl one way or another 20 feet or so then take off running again. My helmet fell off in the middle on one of the paddies. That helmet had some letters from a girl in Corpus. As the machine gun fire increased the importance of the letters decreased. I decided not to return for the helmet. I finally got across the valley and could see the ridgeline where baker Company was dug in. It was almost dark now and I decided it might be better if I waited until morning to go up the hill. So far my day was going pretty good and didn’t want to end it by accidentally being killed by the U.S. Marines. I must have slept most of the night as dawn came quickly. At about 6 AM I thought it might be safe to make my way back up the hill. I yelled at Baker Company my name and company. It seemed like it took a long time but they finally signaled me to come up. I got about half way up the hill and there was an explosion under me. When I opened my eyes I was standing in a huge hole! I yelled don’t shoot and they yelled back, “ don’t move you are in a mine field!” I won’t blame you if you stop reading this now but THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED. I didn’t have a scratch on me, but didn’t hear to well for a while. Maybe it was my talk with God and Jesus the day before. I don’t know and don’t really need to know! Baker sent two Marines down to guide me up the trail and through the minefield. I was taken to Lt. Eddie Le Baron for debriefing. Years later I saw his name in the paper when he was appointed GM of then Atlanta Falcons Team. I wrote him a letter and he remembered the incident and sent me an autographed photo of himself when he was a quarterback of the Dallas Team. I had asked for the photo in my letter. Back at Able Company CP, Gunnery Sgt. Jim Skinner debriefed me. Sgt Skinner said that there were 4 other men that were MIA on that patrol and asked if I had seen them. I had not. Luckily, the next day or two that group made it back as well. They had spent two days in a shell crater just below bunkers on 673! They were so close they could hear the gooks talking. I remember there was a Corpsman, Wagner who stayed to attend Gillespie who was wounded. There were 2 men from my fire team Silvia and George Lundberg. George was a very close fiend of mine who dies of cancer a few years ago. I had heard that Wagner was put up for the Navy Cross. I hope he got it. Sgt Skinner then asked me if I needed anything. I said yes I wanted to be baptized immediately! I felt that Baptizing was a lot like bulletproofing (anyways that is what this 18 year old thought). My Sergeant sent me back to battalion HQ to be debriefed again and to find a chaplain. The chaplain asked me what faith I wanted to be and I said, “what are you?” He said he was Methodist and I said great! That’s what I always wanted to be !…. It really didn’t make that much difference to me but I had made a promise and I wanted the protection now! Since that time I have thought to myself; “Boy! I am sure glad the chaplain wasn’t one of those rattlesnake worshiping people, because that probably what I would be now!” Oh well, I don’t guess it would have made much difference because I really haven’t set any attendance records like I promised that I would (and I am not proud of that fact either)! But luckily for me he was Methodist which most of my family is. But you know … as far as I’m concerned it’s not how close to the front pew you sit or how loud you sing … it’s really that you believe and how you treat your fellow man or woman. When I got back to the first platoon that afternoon I had
to go around and gathering up my pack board and all my personal gear,
which had been divided up, as was the custom for MIAS and KIAS then and
probably now. THE END Two days after the above ordeal the 1st Marine Division fought for 10 days in taking Kanmubong Ridge and the primary objective of the battle was hill 673. The battle was the last big offensive of the Korean War for the 1st Marine Division. Accounts of this battle appear in the September 2001 issue of LEATHERNECK magazine, pages 16 through 23.
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