The Corlears Hook Fencibles: Close Calls in Combat: More Korean War Accounts

This is another installment of my father-in-law's recollections of his time in Korea 1952-53. The first was Sniping with a M2 .50 caliber machinegun, the second was Life on the Hill, the third was Bed Check Charlie and the most recent was Medals Lost and Found. My comments are in italic. All else was written by my father-in-law. I am pleased and honored to post his stories of the front line. His account begins below.

All internet images have been removed from this post, sorry.

Most infantry soldiers who served in combat have been in at least one life-threatening situation. I had three close calls.

The Sniper in the Valley

My job as a Heavy Weapons Company platoon leader, 23rd Infantry Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division during the Korean War was to visit my 75mm recoilless rifle positions daily. The guns were used in direct fire positions (they could see the enemy) with overhead cover, open at both ends, strung out along the MLR (Main Line of Resistance).

The hill where this occurred had a wide valley in front with old rice paddies, the remains of burned-out villages and abandoned vehicles. There were many places for enemy snipers to hide. They would take up positions in the valley at night, and remain motionless within rifle shot of our lines.

In 1952, all army training included target practice on a rifle range. Half the company would fire their weapons, usually M1 rifles, while the other half pulled and marked targets. Those pulling targets had to listen for the sound of the bullet passing overhead and through the target, pull the target down on cables and mark the hit. If a miss, they waved “Maggie’s drawers” (a red flag on a pole). They learned to distinguish the sound of a bullet passing over from one fired at the targets a few feet away, left and right.

I was walking on a path which ran just below the crest of the ridge line most of the way. The path had a narrow trench next to it, used for communication wires, about 4 feet deep. The path led through a flat section for about 100 yards, where I was in view from the valley below.

Suddenly I recognized the buzz of bullets passing close to me, even through the constant din of the front-line noise. A sniper in the valley had me in his sights. I jumped into the commo trench, ran along it doubled over for about 30 or 40 yards and then popped out and ran along the path for a few seconds, then back in the trench. That way I worked my way to the section of trail which was out of sight from the valley. After that I did not linger on that section of trail or keep to any time schedule.

Incoming Mail

My next close call was on an unnamed hill across from “Old Baldy”, near “Pork Chop” and “T Bone”. These hills were key terrain features, and had been involved in fierce fighting by my regiment for possession. We arrived at this position in the middle of the might, all ID on trucks and uniforms taped over. The Chi-com (Chinese Communist) positions were very close to this new hill.

Two men had to carry each gun barrel up the steep hill to the new position. It is normally a four-man carry but the path was very narrow. The unit being relieved left their tripods in place and took ours below. At the first light of dawn loud speakers from the other side welcomed the 23rd Regiment to the front line. That was followed by bugle notes (no particular bugle call) and propaganda messages in English. They were jamming our radio so sound power telephones were the only means of communication with HQ in the rear.

Every Thanksgiving I remember Thanksgiving of 1952. I was walking a path along the reverse slope, where the living bunkers were located, on my way to visit my gun positions. Now and then I could see around the crest enough to check the other side for possible 75mm gun targets, using my 20 power binoculars.

I had stopped in my tracks and just put my binoculars up to my eyes when the field of vision turned very bright yellow. I did not hear any sound or feel anything until a few minutes later when I woke up on my back in the entrance to a bunker about 15 feet behind me. Men rushed up thinking I had been hit.

An artillery or mortar shell had exploded on the path about 10 feet ahead, just where I would have been if I had not stopped walking. I wore a flak jacket and did not get a scratch from the shrapnel, which spreads up and out in a cone formation.

Later I tried to analyze the crater but the ground was frozen very hard and I was not able to determine the flight direction of the missile. I would like to think the shell was made in Russia, but it could have been a short round from our own artillery or mortars. We were using left over WWII munitions and some shells were erratic.

Friendly Fire

My third close encounter took place is what was probably the safest place to be in the Korean War. I was returning from five days of R and R (Rest and Recuperation) in Japan and had arrived at Second Division Rear Head Quarters. The base was nine miles to the rear, considered so safe that all there wore soft caps instead of steel helmets.

About a dozen of us officers were stretched out on cots in a tent which was in the back row of a large block of tents to wait for transportation back to our units. Directly behind our tent was a shallow drainage ditch where trash had collected, and possibly used for a night time latrine. Beyond the trench was an open field. About 50 yards away in the middle of the field was a group of tents used by the 2nd Division’s motor pool repair shop. It was probably placed away from the rest of headquarters because truck body and fender repair can be noisy work.

Suddenly there was a very loud roar of airplane engines directly overhead followed immediately by several loud explosions behind our tent. An air raid! We ran out of the back of the tent and dove into the filthy ditch. Hearing no more planes. I checked the sky. No planes were in sight. There was an unmanned half-track with four .50 cal. machineguns in the back, called a Quad 50, in a cut halfway up a nearby hill. Several half-dressed men were running up the hill to man this anti-aircraft gun position.

Photos taken by my Father-in-Law at the scene.

At the time, we were told that 12 men had been killed. Newspaper articles mailed to me later said that 13 died and nine were wounded. Twenty tents and three trucks were also destroyed.

An Investigation Board concluded that “Marine Panther jets were responsible for the bombing and strafing attack”. I am positive that there was no strafing and that these planes had piston engines. The 1950s straight wing jets made a whistling noise, and never flew that low.

Most likely they were WWII Navy Corsairs jettisoning unused 500-pound bombs in what looked like an empty field, before returning to their carrier. They usually fly in pairs, often at tree-top level.

My Observations.

Some men become fatalistic after constant shelling on the hills. They tended to take more chances. A ROK soldier assigned to my platoon as an ammo bearer wanted to prove how lucky he was by walking into one of our mine fields. That was the day his luck ran out.

Others turned to religion. Short church services were held most Sundays at the bottom of the hills. Men sat on their helmets; the cloth covered jeep hood with a metal cross became the altar. Communion was served. No music, short message. It did not seem to matter what denomination the Chaplain belonged to.

Everyone lived for the day when they had enough points to rotate home. 36 points needed, as I recall. Troops got four points a month while on the line, three while in reserve or blocking positions. Rear echelon troops got only two points a month, but they got three hot meals a day and saw all the USO shows.