Valleys of Death

The next morning, Bromser and Giroux called me over to them. The two artillery lieutenants, Mayo and Peterson, were also there. Giroux said what we all knew.

“We can’t stay any longer. There is no doubt in my mind that the Chinese will overrun us tonight,” he said. “We need to find a way out. Will you lead a patrol? Lieutenants Mayo and Peterson have already volunteered to go.”

I looked at the lieutenants and nodded my head yes. Rank didn’t matter and Giroux pulled me aside, put his hands on my shoulders and looked directly into my eyes.

“Mayo and Peterson are forward observers,” Giroux said. “They are not infantry. You have the experience. Trust your instincts and find us a way out of here.”

“Let me get one more man,” I said and headed off toward Wollack’s position. I wanted him to come with me, but he was focused on beating back the Chinese soldiers again building the trench. He was key to holding them off.

He got one of his men and we met Mayo and Peterson. Squatting in a dugout, we decided to move along the ditch that ran beside the road and cross near a few Korean huts. The goal was to get to the riverbed where the Aussie bombers had strafed a few days before. We knew the Chinese had been using the riverbed to attack, but they were staying out during daylight since the bomber attack.

“Lieutenant Peterson,” the radio operator pleaded, “please don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me! You can’t leave me here for them to get me!”

Others reached out to us, patted us on the back and wished us good luck. McGreevy, a mortar man from the weapons platoon, called to me and handed me a pair of Soviet field glasses.

Making our way down the ditch, we got to the crossing point near the huts. I poked my head up and scanned the other side with the field glasses. Chinese bodies were all over. Some lay on top of one another three deep. I imagined it looked like a Civil War battlefield.

I ran across the road and up to one of the huts. A few days before, we’d used it to store supplies. Sliding into the doorway, I burst through the door with my rifle at the ready. No one was inside the hut and I quickly waved the others over. We went around to the back of the huts and rushed through the doors searching for Chinese soldiers. The first two huts were empty, but the last one had two wounded Chinese lying on the floor. They had been shot several times and their breaths came in shallow wheezes. They held out their hands and started whispering what sounded like “shwee, shwee” in an almost eerie chant.

“Leave ’em,” I said, not wanting to draw attention to us by lingering there. I’d learn later that the word was shui, Chinese for “water.”

Using the rolling hills and depressions as cover, we continued to move toward the north part of the riverbed. Luckily, there were no Chinese around who were not dead or wounded. We got to the riverbed without incident and slipped down the bank.

Not more than one hundred yards away there must have been five hundred dead and wounded Chinese soldiers lying in the riverbed where our planes had caught them on the first day. Some of the wounds looked fresh and may have come from the previous night’s attack. I could not believe they would leave their wounded lying there.

“Don’t even look like you’re thinking of pointing a weapon at them, let alone shooting one. Don’t think about it. Those are the truest orders you’ll ever get.”

As we moved down the riverbed, the Chinese soldiers grabbed at us and held out cups begging for water. I took my canteen and turned it upside down to show them that we had no water. We had gotten about halfway down the riverbed when we all agree that we had seen enough. We needed to get the hell out of there, but it was hard to turn my back on so many Chinese soldiers. Even ones mortally wounded. All the way up the riverbed I was waiting to get shot in the back.

At the bank where we’d entered the riverbed, we stopped and squatted down. The plan was to move out of the perimeter just as it started getting dark so we could get through the riverbed before the Chinese moved in to launch their attack. Someone had to stay here and keep the riverbed under observation. This was the only way out of this hell and we had to make sure the Chinese didn’t move in after we left.

We couldn’t go back the same way. I wasn’t sure if the Chinese wounded in and around the huts had told their comrades where we’d gone. If we didn’t make it back, the whole plan would be shot.

We went wide of the huts and followed a four-foot-deep irrigation ditch that ran toward the road, until we got to the field. Popping out of the ditch, we cut across the field full of dead Chinese, moving as fast as we could between the mounds of dead bodies.

As we entered the perimeter, the men were overjoyed to see us. Wollack’s sergeant, just like scores of men I cannot remember the names of, had the guts to go on the patrol. We shook hands and he went back to the west side of the perimeter. I never saw him again.

“If the situation changes in the riverbed, the lieutenants are to get back and let us know,” I said. “If they don’t come back, we have to assume the plan is a go.”

Word was passed to all the able-bodied men. They were told to make sure that they took what ammunition they had left. I got a burp gun and some ammo. The wounded men knew what was happening. Some broke down, cried and begged us not to leave.

Others just watched us in silence. They knew they’d slow us down. They also knew that they’d be dead soon. They simply asked that we come back for them.

But I knew we were leaving them to die or, worse, get captured. I knew my orders and agreed with them. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was leaving so many good men. Men who’d fought well only to be left behind to die. I wasn’t sure I could ever forget this. This was to be the hardest thing I had done in my short lifetime.

We only had a few hours before we tried to break out. I wondered how the two lieutenants were. I guessed no news was certainly good news in this case. My heart was aching thinking of the men who would be left behind, when white phosphorous rounds started landing around us. They burst like fireworks, and the flakes landed on the wounded and burned through their uniforms. The screams of the wounded caused everybody to panic.

I stood up and gave the signal to go. I took the lead as the last sixty able-bodied soldiers moved quickly toward the old battalion command post. We then crossed over the road and headed for the river. It started to rain as we left. Smoke from the white phosphorous rounds and rain reduced visibility, giving us good concealment. We reached the river just as it got dark. Mayo and Peterson met us at the riverbed and we continued to move east. I was still leading the group when all of a sudden I saw movement to my right. I dropped to my knees, signaling the group to halt and get down.

I could just make out that it was another group of men. They also stopped and dropped to their knees. We weren’t more than twenty-five feet apart, but I could barely see them in the smoke. They didn’t look like Chinese soldiers. I thought I could make out the shape of an American steel helmet. My heart was racing.

Americans. We stood up and approached one another. It was the back end of the column. I didn’t know we’d gotten separated in the riverbed. I quickly passed the word back, told the group to fall in on our group and I immediately started to move again.

A few hours into the march, the rain turned into a downpour. In minutes, we were soaked to the skin. The temperature was dropping and I started to shiver. Moving was the only way to stay warm, and I pushed on, trying to get as many miles as possible between us and the old perimeter. We were well behind Chinese lines, and because of the size of our group, it was likely we’d be spotted soon.

When we reached the main road, which a few days before we’d used to move supplies, it was clogged with Chinese soldiers. Some of the soldiers were on horseback moving south. Like us, they were using the road to move supplies and troops. Giroux and Bromser came up and joined me. We couldn’t stay near the road for long. We had to cross quickly. We managed to string our guys out so that we could all cross at once. Hiding near the road, we watched for an opening. Finally, it came. We gave the signal and sixty men ran across the road as one.

After hours of marching, we finally stopped at a cluster of buildings. We moved the walking wounded who felt they could keep up with us into one of the houses and I spread the rest of the group out around the houses to watch for Chinese patrols. We were short on ammunition and I prayed we didn’t run into any Chinese soldiers. We didn’t have the firepower to hold out for long.

The officers got together in one of the houses. There were six or seven now, including Bromser and Giroux. Captain McClain, a company commander from E Company, was the highest ranking. With our security set, I went over to the house where the officers were meeting. I wanted to know the plan, but I got blocked at the door by an officer. . . . I asked for Giroux, who quickly came to the door.

“We’re going to be here awhile,” Giroux said. He seemed a little exasperated. I had a feeling we suddenly had too many chiefs trying to make decisions.

“Lets get out of here,” he said. “You and I have a better chance to get back. This group is too large. We don’t have the firepower to fight and they are slowing us down.”

He was right. I knew together we’d probably make it back to friendly lines. Breaking down into smaller groups would be better. But I’d helped shepherd these men too far to turn my back on them, even if it cost me my life.

Mayer shrugged and disappeared into the darkness. I went around the perimeter one time to make sure the guys were staying alert. We were wasting a lot of darkness. When I got back, Giroux and the officers were finally ready to move. This time, I was in the rear. Giroux wanted me to keep everybody moving. Many of us were wounded and weak, and as we walked over the hills the distance between the men grew. I was determined not to let them stop. I cajoled them along with encouragement and sometimes threats.

Just after daybreak, we were crossing over some hills when I heard automatic weapons fire. It was coming from the front. Everybody panicked and started to run. I tried to keep the group together, but it was impossible. By some miracle after moving a good distance from the firing, we were able to regroup.

We had just started moving again, when mortar rounds started to land nearby. The Chinese knew where we were now. We broke into two groups and started leapfrogging from one hill to the other. One group would cover while the other moved through. It was obvious to me that we were no longer evading. We were going to have to fight our way back to our lines.

By midday, the fire had slacked off and we were making progress. I could hear the rumble of artillery fire and guessed we were close to the front. My group climbed to the top of a knoll, and I could see the rounds hitting a mountain no more than five miles away. We were close. For the first time, I felt hope. Then the hill erupted with machine gun and mortar fire.

I was knocked flat on my face. I quickly got up and just as quickly got back down in the prone position. The Chinese were shelling the hill. My lower back felt wet, and I could feel what I thought was sweat running down the crack of my ass. It wasn’t sweat. It was blood. I was hit, but I didn’t feel anything. There was so much smoke, dirt and dust that I could barely see.

I stumbled off the hill followed by three others. We started running. The three men followed me. When we got to the road, I started following it to the east. We were running at a good pace over a little knoll when we ran smack into two Chinese soldiers. They were holding hands and skipping along the same path. One was holding a dead chicken by its neck.

For a split second we stared at one another. I shot the soldier holding the chicken. The other Chinese soldier went for his pistol. One of the guys with me shot him. Some Chinese soldiers nearby had heard the shots and were now chasing us. I looked down the road and saw an American tank sitting in an intersection about three hundred yards away. It was green and had a white star painted on the turret. We ran for it at a full sprint, but as we got closer, we saw that the hatches were open and there was damage on the armor plates. It had been knocked out days ago. I was panicked and needed to get my head straight.

There were about a dozen Chinese soldiers chasing us. I prodded myself to think and move. We started to head for a village on the other side of the road. Behind the village, I could see a massive rice paddy that ran up to a hill. I figured we could escape if we got over the hill first.

The paddy had about three or four inches of water in it. We stayed off the tops of the dikes and got halfway across the paddy before I turned to fire back. The Chinese soldiers dove for cover. When they did, we started running again. As I was running, I saw rounds hitting the water in front of me. When we got to the other side, we got down behind the dike and started firing at the Chinese again. I didn’t see anyone behind them. If we could take them out, we had a chance. But the others didn’t have any ammunition left and I was down to a few rounds myself.

“Go!” I screamed and turned toward the Chinese soldiers crossing the paddy. I fired a few shots and then dove behind a dike. A few seconds later, I fired two more bursts before I was out of ammunition.

Between bursts, my mind was searching for an escape route. I knew that if I ran straight up the hill, I didn’t stand a chance. About thirty yards to my right, there was a house. A woman and a baby were crying and wailing in a dugout near the hill. If I went into the house, I was sure the woman would tell them. But I couldn’t stay behind the dike with no ammunition. Jumping up, I ran behind the house and started up the hill. I tried to keep the house at my back hoping to mask my movement. I went as far as I could go without the Chinese seeing me and then dove into a large bush. Rolling onto my stomach with my Chinese burp gun underneath me, I waited. I had no ammo, but I had a death grip on the weapon. It was my security blanket.

I could hear the Chinese soldiers climbing up the hill. They were yelling at one another. I was trying not to move. Not even breathe. A fly hovered around my face, landing on my nose and mouth. I tried to close my mind to everything. I closed my eyes as they passed, and took my first breath as I heard their yelling behind me. In a few minutes, I was sure they were gone.

But every unit has one. A straggler that can’t keep up. The Chinese straggler was so slow that when he got close to the bush, he saw me. I never moved and just shut my eyes. He started to holler and drove his bayonet into my butt. I felt the tip hit bone.

When I opened my eyes, I saw boots all around me. My mind went to the burp gun. If I rolled over holding it, they’d shoot me for sure. I shot my arms out along the ground and rolled over, leaving the burp gun in the mud. They reached down and jerked me up.