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In the months of November and December, 1950, in the mountains of North Korea, sixty-five miles from the border of China, the 1st Marine Division was almost 5000 feet above sea-level at the Chosin Reservoir. It was one of the coldest winters on record. Most of the day it was thirty to forty degrees below zero, and when the wind was blowing it had the effects of seventy below. A normal Marine Division is about 20,000 men, but at this time we were down to about 15,000 from fighting our way up from South Korea. The Chinese had us surrounded with 150,000 men with orders to “annihilate the 1st Marine Division and take no prisoners.” It was when a Chinese general found out he was up against the marines that he delayed the attack until he had two more divisions, to bring his forces up to 10 divisions. After two weeks of fighting the Chinese, 6 of these divisions were no longer fit to be called a fighting force.

To hold the Chinese at bay, the commanding general of the marines had an entire valley lined up with light and heavy machine guns with riflemen spaced in between. When the Chinese got wise to the break-out they came down off the hills by the thousands. I took one look and said my prayers, saying, “God, I am going to do the best I can, honest.” I was sure it was my last day on this earth. All the guns opened up on them. The Chinese were being cut down all over, and some of the gunners had to push bodies off their guns in order to keep firing. Some Chinese got through our lines, but never got out alive. Finally, the Chinese bugles started blowing and they retreated. Then we started our long march down the mountain road.

This photo on the mountain trail is after our break of the encirclement and moving to the sea to be evacuated by our Naval forces that were waiting for us; a 72-mile march fighting Chinese all the way, who were determined to stop us.

We were stopped when the Chinese blew up a bridge. The marine engineers were trying to repair the bridge, but had to stop when fired upon from a Chinese foxhole about 300 yards distance, until the sergeant sent me and two other riflemen and a light machine gun to pin them down while a fire team flanked them and cleaned them out. The poor Chinese had no chance at all.

I was a walking wounded at the Chosin battle, but still able to fight. A mortar round landed close to me. I was thrown 5 or 6 feet, bleeding from the nose and mouth from the concussion. Dirt was embedded in my face. Five others were hit by the rounds fragments, but none seriously.

We didn’t have the proper clothes for that weather, and 95 percent of us came out with frost-bite. Many lost feet or toes, fingers, ears or part of the nose from the frost-bite. I came back with frost-bite in both feet and hands. Later I have had two knee replacements. I still have chills and fever attacks of malaria. The quinine caused my skin to rash and crack.

I was wounded twice in the right upper arm, which causes my hand to lock-up at times and continues to be painful after all these years. If you add up all my percentages, it comes to 180%, so I get 100% compensation for life.

I could tell you more stories as bad or worse, and other situations I was in and thought, “This is my last day to be alive,” and said my prayers once again. Something always happened that saved my life. I always wore a cross around my neck all through my time in Korea. The cross I got at the church at Camp Pendleton just before we left for Korea. I still have that cross hanging in my bedroom, and when I go on a trip, I take it with me. I believe that cross kept me safe when so many around me were getting killed or wounded.