Chapter 3
What becomes of those that go to war and don't have a nice home's or family's to return to? With no one to miss or morn for them? Would it take an extra tenacious person to survive and make a new life?
I couldn't resist putting a real horse reference in the story. Read more about Sgt. Reckless, Marine equine Korean war hero. An incredible true story!
On the troop ship over the men read, smoked, played cards and told stories to pass the time. When they arrived at the Port of Incheon they were issued winter gear and loaded into trucks. As the column drove along the only view afforded to the men was out the back of the truck. The countryside was a scene of utter devastation. Barely a building was left standing. Most of the populace had been brought down to living in the stone age. Any youthful bravado was soon squelched when they started seeing unburied corpses in various stages of carnage strewn everywhere. Most likely villagers and their livestock caught in bombings. The sounds of battle loomed nearer. Occasionally the ground shook from large explosions, jet planes roared overhead. West thought life is pretty cheap in this place.
They unloaded and marched with all their heavy equipment and ammunition cases up and down steep hills. Jeff ribbed their Lieutenant "Hey I heard the Marines have a horse to haul their stuff. When are you gonna buy a pack horse Lieutenant?" "Whenever I get around to the livery stable" the Officer replied. They reached their objective, a hill that looked like any other but was part of the allied line. They set up the radio and machine guns then chipped foxholes into the frozen ground. Of course theirs had to be big enough to accommodate Jeff. They were sweated up with exertion and night was falling. Sitting in the damp earth smelling foxholes they ate rations. Sounds of the battle were constant from their left. The sky lit up with artillery flashes the ground trembled. No one slept much their first night on the foreign battlefield.
When the morning came they had more rations and waited. The Lieutenant stayed busy with the radio. Battle lines were changing quickly and he was working overtime to keep up. The Sergeant checked the men and equipment for preparedness. As night fell the sounds of battle approached closer on the left. Then the attack came all along the line. Mortars landed amongst the foxholes. Arthur and Jeff huddled in the bottom of their hole. Rocks and dirt rained down on them. They could hear the Sergeant frantically ordering "Fire! Fire"! Glancing at each other they stood up and fired their rifles. A flare lit up the hillside and they could see the ground was full of charging enemy troops. The machine gun cut scores of them down. The enemy soldiers got within fifty yards of the American position, then what was left of them turned to retreat. The Americans were left with the smoke of discharged weapons and the screaming of the wounded from both sides.
The Sergeant took stock of their situation. The Lieutenant and his aide were killed ought right. The radio was destroyed. He sent a runner to the next position with a report and request for more ammunition. Then he prepared the remaining men as best he could for the another attack. The medic saw to the wounded, too many for one man to care for. The second attack came in the early morning hours. Arthur and Jeff shot all their ammunition then crouched in their hole. Bullets peppered the ground above and sounds of the battle the shooting stopped. They peeked out of their foxhole to find to their relief the enemy had been driven off. It was light out now, the Sergeant had them collect all the weapons and ammunition from the dead and wounded then share it out equally. He worried the runner he sent hadn't returned. It could mean the enemy was behind them. There was nothing to be done but hold the position and wait for help.
He was preparing another runner when the next attack came. His suspicions about being surrounded were confirmed. Arthur and Jeff shot all their ammunition. The enemy so close they could distinctly see the ones they hit. Then all at once they were out. Weapons useless they hunkered in their hole panting and waiting for what would come next. "Where are all the tanks, planes and big bombs we won the war with?" Jeff yelled. Things were quiet again, Then a shadow fell over them. They looked up to see Chinese soldiers pointing their bayoneted rifles down at them, motioning for them to come up out of their shelter. They had no choice but to climb out and raise their hands. The remaining Americans were herded into a group. The Chinese soldiers gleefully went thru every pocket and stripped the Americans of their last possessions. To them Americans were walking treasure caravans. Items not available to Chinese like watches, lighters, cigarettes, rings, rations, even American winter gear was in demand. West watched as the card O'Brien gave him and a letter of encouragement he had received later fell into the mud to be trampled by the Chinese soldiers.
There were lots of rumors concerning what happened to those captured by the enemy. Everything from being sent to work in Chinese mines to that the North Koreans starved prisoners. Only thing they knew for sure was that they didn't abide by the Geneva Convention. Greatly outnumbered by the bayonet welding enemy the Americans could put up no resistance. West looked over to see the medic, the wounded and the dead were being stripped of their belongings as well. The men were told in broken English to sit and wait. Some North Korean troops came along and the Chinese turned the prisoners over to them. The Chinese then took all the American weapons, equipment and left. It was clear from the start The North Koreans were not happy about being left with the prisoners. They became markedly unhappier when they searched the Americans again to find they had already been picked clean. There was much shouting and gesturing among them. The enemy officer told the Americans they would be marched to some trucks and the wounded would have to be left behind. When the Sergeant stepped foreword to protest he was bayonetted right in front of the men. Leaderless now they started marching. After a short distance they heard shots which could only have been their medic and wounded. The column hesitated only to be prodded on at bayonet point.
They were marched off the hill and onto a road. Marched for hours until it was late in the day. It snowed a little along the way and the men were cold hungry and thirsty. Allowed to rest in a roadside ditch they whispered amongst themselves speculating on their destination. Arthur and Jeff hadn't spoken much but stayed together. They noticed the North Koreans seemed even more agitated. The air was thick with tension and fear. Some of the North Koreans approached the prisoners and demanded their boots. A scuffle must have broken out since giving up their foot wear would mean a sure freezing death. Shots suddenly rang out, West was just turning to look when he heard and felt a sharp crack against The side of his head.
Next thing he knew it was dark and he was cold. There was crushing weight on top of him. It was a gruesome struggle to escape the solid mass of frozen bodies that threatened to imprison him. He crawled out of the ditch, and stood shuddering, staring down in mute horror. The Moon was bright and he could see an indistinguishable mass that were his friends short hours ago. Bare hands and feet attested that the North Koreans had taken anything not ruined by the hail of bullets. West swayed on his feet rubbing the blood soaked side of his head. He had the chinstrap on his winter hat so it stayed put when the bullet went thru. His uniform was frozen stiff with the gore of men that fell on top of him. Any attempts at getting additional winter gear off the bodies would have been futile since everything was frozen solid. It would have taken a chisel to free anything.
The wind was howling and with no shelter in sight West had to make a decision. His friend Jeff was down there. It might even have been Jeff's body that shielded him from the bullets. He didn't want to abandon Jeff but he was a stark realist. He knew they were all dead, he would be too if he didn't find shelter. Hiking his muffler higher on his freezing nose he tore himself away from the horror in the ditch. Shoving his hands in his armpits for warmth he started walking as fast as he could in the direction he figured they had come from. He remembered being this cold once before. When he was a kid he fell thru the river ice while playing with friends. They had all ran away leaving him to get out on his own and walk several blocks to his apartment. When he got there his parents had beaten his ass for coming home wet.
He made it for a while through the desolate landscape. The sound of his boots crunching on the ice and snow breaking the silence. As the sun rose the wind picked up. West started to stumble and feel confused, the effects of exhaustion and exposure taking their toll. He collapsed unable to rise. His addled brain thought, O.K. I'll just rest a bit then continue, A little rest is all I need.