Military Life of Dennis L. Pavlik
October 14, 1952 - July 20, 1954
Kumsong Salient
My military life began on October 14, 1952, when I was inducted at Fort Omaha, Nebraska. But let me go back a little, to the events leading up to that time.
I graduated from Elba High School, Elba, Nebraska, in May 1950 with a class of ten students. At that time I really did not know what I wanted to do with my life. I felt the only thing I knew was farming and I was afraid to try that because I would need help from the folks and I did not want to put a burden on them.
Anyway, I rented 25 acres of wheat ground that was called the Olsen place. I sowed the wheat with Dad’s tractor, plow and seed, and used my neighbor, Axel Keldsen’s drill. When it came time to harvest, Dad said I could have the use of the equipment for helping all summer.
While this was going on the Korean War began on June 25, 1950. I remember discussing the war with my younger brother Norman as we were going to Farwell to get parts, and told him then that I thought I would have to go into the service.
Shortly after the war started, a sailor from St. Paul, named Bydalik was swept overboard from his ship. This was the first Howard County Korean causality.
In the fall of 1950 at a Saturday night dance in Elba, I overheard Ralph Coufal (a WW II veteran and a reservist from Cotesfield, NE) tell someone he was called up for active duty. He was a ranger and was killed on June 6, 1951. He was killed near Singo Li. This was Howard County’s second war casualty. There may have been some wounded men from Howard County but I do not remember them.
In December of 1950, I went to work in the Union Pacific Railroad’s signal department. The first day that I worked it was about 15 below zero. Herb, a long time friend and I started working on the railroad together, digging ditches between the tracks. We had been cold the night before so after work we went and bought some warm blankets. That sure put a crimp on our eating money till payday. I worked in Columbus, and later bid to get into the Grand Island shops, where I worked for about six months before getting bumped. From there I went to the Omaha Signal shops until I was drafted into the service.
My uncle Ed Svoboda harvested the crop in the summer of 1952. After paying for the expenses, there was but $200 left. I made a decision right then and there that I probably could not make a living as a farmer.
I went for my army physical in June 1952. While this was coming up, I went to an Air Force recruiter two or three times, but could not see spending four years in the service. As it ended up, that could have happened anyway.
I should say here that I did not really want to get attached to any girl, as my gut feeling was that I would not return from overseas.
I worked in Omaha on the railroad until leaving, driving home every weekend and playing town team baseball. I lived up every weekend, and by Friday I had recouped enough for a repeat performance. Several of us were in the same situation.
On the Monday before my draft notice arrived, the Six Fat Dutchmen, a polka band from New Ulm, MN, played in the Elba dance hall. Elba had a population of about 200 and never had seen anything like this before. Junior Barnes from Elba had just been released from the service after spending his time in Korea with the Artillery. Alvin, my older brother and Norma, his wife, and I went to the dance after working all day. The only thing I can say is that was sure a long night, and also a long day at work, but I was glad we went, as we still talk about it.
Having come home for the weekend on Friday night, I checked my mail where Mom always put it and found my notice for induction. On Saturday morning, I worked in the field helping Dad pick potatoes. He was working in the southeast corner of the quarter, or next to the curve of the road as we called it before it was straightened. We worked for a while and later took a break. While we were sitting there I told Dad that I had to go into the service. He did not say much, but he may have had a feeling of some rough times ahead. He told me later when I came home that every time he went into that field; it reminded him of our conversation.
I left Omaha, after being sworn in and headed for Camp Crowder, MO. Bob Jacobson from Dannebrog, a guy from Farwell whose name I do not recall, and I left together. Bob Jacobson and I ended up staying together through basic training. He was in Japan working with the repatriation list when the identity of the freed prisoners were coming through, and told me later he gave out a holler when he saw my name on the list. The last I heard he was living in Hawaii. The fellow from Farwell passed away a few years ago.
We spent three days in Camp Crowder, which was later closed. While there, we received our first clothing issue, and experienced our first taste of marching. We encountered the good feeling of being alone and also of finding new friends. It was the first feeling of the military service.
We boarded buses and headed for Camp Chaffee, AR, where we were fed lunch. Our names were called to either stay at Chaffee or go to Fort Sill, OK. They had made the selection that I was to stay at Chaffee, no questions asked.
I was assigned to B Company, 22nd Armored Engineer for artillery basic training. They were opening closed barracks, and there was a lot of cleaning to do, so we did not get started with training until a week later.
The first eight weeks of basic was infantry training, and you carried an M-1 rifle everywhere that you went. Training was the usual stuff of belittling your ego, and getting you to think military. It seems funny now when you look back on it how they take you in as a raw recruit, thinking only of being a good person, and 16 weeks later you come out trained to kill. You do not think of it that way at the time, but it really was true. The second eight weeks was artillery training. The biggest difference there seemed to be that you carried an M-1 carbine, about half the weight of the M-1 rifle. I had my share of KP (kitchen police), guard duty, and our Friday night rat races, as they called them. This was supposed to build character or something, but I guess that did not quite soak in for me or I missed a class or two.
During our 16 weeks of basic we fired almost all arms: rifles, rifle grenades, bazookas, 30 caliber Machine guns, and 50 caliber machine guns. As far I can remember, we threw hand grenades, had bayonet training, practiced hand-to-hand combat, and fired the artillery guns. We had our usual physical exercises, and marches, and camped out in pup tents for two weeks. They did bring us in for a shower over the first weekend. By the time we had done all this 16 weeks had gone by. We had our company graduation party on my 21st birthday on February 13, 1953. It was time to move on to something more interesting. Our orders were read off and I received the news that I was headed for the Far East, presumably Korea.
After basic training, my attitude about survival had changed a great deal. I was coming back; there was no question in my mind, though I did not realize that would be as tough as it was.
I read an article a few years ago that anyone that had taken basic in Chaffee was automatically headed for Korea. About 30 names were called off that were headed for New York embarkation, and they assumed that they were headed for Europe. Three weeks later they were in Korea; they had gone by way of the Panama Canal.
After basic we received a 10 day delay in route, or a 10 day leave. I went home and at the end of my leave reported to Kansas City, MO. We boarded a troop train for California, and ended up at Camp Stoneman. We were there for five days until orders came to board the troop ship USS Anderson. It did not take long to get sick our first day out at sea. The ship stunk from all the vomiting, but I lucked out, as I did not draw any details while being sick. We went under the Golden Gate Bridge, saw Alcatraz from a distance and we were on our way.
Enroute we stopped in Hawaii for four hours. We were allowed to leave the ship in our khakis. Of course they were in the bottom of our duffel bag and all wrinkled, but who cared -- all they could do was send us into combat and we were headed there anyway. That phrase was used a lot, along with the saying that there no longer was assimilation of live rifle fire.
We landed in Japan at night and went to Camp Drake, the place where they trained the suicide or Kamikaze pilots during WWII. We were supposed to be there 36 hours before boarding again. We were issued M‑1 rifles and combat uniforms, and turned in our stateside uniforms or dress uniforms. We got an issue of some wool shirts and pants along with our original issue of fatigues, more often called our combat clothes. We were supposed to get to test fire the M‑1 rifle, but while they marched the troops out to do that, four of us were behind the barracks cleaning the Cosmoline from our rifles. We did not even know that they had gone to fire them. Oh well, never did get to fire that rifle as we turned it in when we arrived at our destination in Korea.
After about 30 hours we boarded the USS Sturgis troop ship and headed for Korea. Along the way we made a little side trip to Okinawa, let off some troops and picked some others up. Both groups were of Spanish African origin. We were allowed off the ship for about 12 hours. We went to the service club there and had a steak immediately upon getting off the ship, and again before boarding. It sure tasted good and it was the last steak for a long time.
The day before Easter of April, 1953, we landed at Inchon, Korea, after a five day trip that took us through a sea storm in which waves were coming over the front of the ship. We loaded onto troop carrier ships in Inchon harbor and were taken ashore. We loaded on a bus and I received my first impression of the country we were in. I’ve never seen so much filth. We went to Youg-Dung-Po, a smaller town outside of Inchon, where we ended up in a replacement center where we awaited orders for assignment.
While at this replacement center we saw how the local citizens lived. Small kids were taking the garbage out of the cans -- when you went to dump your mess kit, there was usually a kid with his head in the bottom with his feet barely sticking out the top filling a can. The kids usually wore an army blanket cut to size with legs sewed into it
One day, a Papason (old man) was carrying two buckets on a stick, one in front and one in the rear; filled with something (it appeared to be garbage). The kids come up from the rear first, taking whatever out of the bucket. He set the two buckets down and chased the kids to the rear. While doing this they came from the front, and he ended leaving with two empty buckets, not too happy. That was our entertainment for the day. It might have been the same day an MP (military police) threw one kid over a barb wire entanglement that must have about 10-12 feet high. The kid just bounced on the ground, got up and started running.
After two days at a replacement center, I received my orders to be assigned to C Battery, 555 Field Artillery. They were known as the “Triple Nickel.” They were in the Punch Bowl in the eastern front right below the 38th parallel. They had been in this position for nine months. Three weeks later we moved for the first time since arriving in Korea.
There were five of us that took basic together and all assigned to C Battery. They were Clyde Robertson, Dwain Swartz and someone named Semmler, all from the area of Mitchell, SD. The fourth was someone named Singleton, who comes to basic in the fifth or sixth week. He claimed he married a girl from Lincoln, NE. The fifth was I. The other four ended up on the guns and I ended up in the detail section as they were short of men there, and also because of my experience on the railroad.
While we were in the Punch Bowl, we were attached to the 40th Division. My cousin Frank Tuma was also in the 40th division with a heavy mortar company. He went to his CO (Commanding Officer) to get a jeep to come to see me on Sunday, but he was informed that we had moved on the preceding Friday night. It was a good try that almost worked.
From the Punch Bowl, which we left the end of April 1953, to July 12, 1953, we moved eight times, if my memory is correct. I do not remember all the positions but I do remember the first and last couple quite well.
The second to last position was called the Turk position, as they had occupied it before us. We were told that we were in a hot spot behind the lines at this time. They told us to dig fox holes, which was the first time that order had ever been given. I grabbed a shovel and proceeded to dig a foxhole. I hit rock at about hip deep, measured it, and it seemed that it would be adequate. On Saturday we received incoming rounds. After those incoming rounds landed the rock was not nearly as hard. We never used these holes but it gave us practice for later.
We were supposed to sleep with mosquito nets over our beds, but I did not use mine, as I figured if I had to leave in a hurry, I did not want any mosquito net slowing me up. One night after coming off guard duty, I had been in bed about an hour when I got the shakes. It was somewhere around midnight and I could not stop shaking. I felt cold and put on a blanket. Then I was hot. A fellow soldier saw me shaking when he went on guard duty and he came back an hour later and I was still shaking. He wanted to call a medic but I would not let him, although I probably should have. This lasted two to three hours. Later I talked to a cousin who was a nurse and she said it was probably nerves. In the last letter I sent to my bother Alvin, I told him I did not like what was going on here, and that some thing is going to happen.
We had a rocket battery near our position that had their telephone communications routed through our switch board. After he was relieved of guard duty that night, Sgt. McGriff (Detail Section Sergeant) told me that there was no communication with the rocket battery. He told me to wake up someone to fix it, as this was in my line of duties. I decided to just go myself, and taking a large four or five cell flashlight, I headed to the open field. I had the flashlight on all the time following the wire, but never did find the break in the line. Not until later when I was talking to a guy in prison camp did I figure how stupid this was -- that was exactly how he got captured.
A rocket battery has about 32 to 40 rockets on the rear of the jeep. When they fire their rockets it gives off a large volume of light, and as soon as they fire they haul ass, as it is easy to get a fix on where to return fire.
While I was on the switch board, I always had spare time at night, so I usually wrote letters. I had developed a system that on every third day I wrote to the same people. Not thinking that I had set up a pattern, when the last letter got home and another did not come on the third day it generated concern. The pattern had never entered my mind at the time. Of course, I did not figure on being missing-in-action either.
While assigned to the detail section, and being on the switch board most of the time, we were having trouble with personnel getting things done in the field with wire communications. So I asked to leave the switch board and go and string wire. I was doing these three to four weeks before being overrun. My MIA reports still had me listed as a switch board operator.
Between June 15 and 20, 1953, we were engaged in a fierce battle for Outpost Harry. The Chinese were making a big push at this time. The 3rd Division, along with the 5th RCT was the troops on line there. We started fire missions at about 6 to 7 every evening and fired until daylight. We were told that the battalion, 18 guns in all, fired an average of 400 rounds per gun, per day. You’ve also got to take into consideration that all guns were not in firing order, as some barrels went out. Inoperative cylinders and miscellaneous other things happened to them. We even had one gun on which the sites had to be adjusted a certain amount, to be on target. We had better guns in Basic than we had overseas -- of course the guns used in Basic were not used every day and were not on display. Each day when we come out of our bunker in the morning and looked over the valley, it looked like a heavy fog, from all the burned gun powder.
Listening to the Forward Observers as they came off the hill, they told of many a night where the quad-fifties and other fire arms were out of ammunition or the barrels had become so hot that they should have been replaced, but there was nothing to replace them with. When dawn came, the enemy would pull back. We could have been overrun more than just this time. A local former Marine Captain stopped in the office while I was working and told me that several times they were overrun and found the best thing was to lay low and after a while the Chinese were gone. He also told me of his experiences of landing at Inchon and also being in the Chosin Reservoir battle, fighting in minus 30 degree weather day and night.
Let me say a little about the 105 artillery gun: it has a projectile of about four inches in diameter and comes with the powder in the casing which consisted of seven bags of charges, each one getting smaller or larger, whichever way you want to go. The charge number was given on the fire order and whatever charges you did not need were hung over the casing. When the projectile or shell was put on the casing, it cut the string and the surplus bags of powder were later strung out and burned. The fuses for the shells come in a separate container and are installed on the shell before firing, depending on which type of fuse was needed for the fire missions. We used a lot of VT (variable time) fuses, which were really called vetro terror. They were radio activated, and they exploded within 20 feet of a solid object. They usually exploded above the ground, which resulted in a lot of shrapnel flying around. Soldiers do not like that -- it is worse than rifle fire. Another fuse that was used a lot was one that was activated upon impact.
I recently found out that most of our fire missions were fired with a five charge. The night we were overrun, we started out with charge three and later were down to charge one. We were firing just over the hill in front of us. None of the guns in A, B, or C batteries fired direct fire that night, as was erroneously reported in an article reprinted in a recent issue of Battle Stars magazine. [1]
Lt. Bauer was an FO (Forward Observer) for our battery. An FO is usually up on the line in a forward position to observe what is going on and calls in fire missions to help our troops and to destroy any enemy target that they happen to see. I remember one FO later said that they called a mission on some donkeys and also on some wash on the line. Lt. Bauer went to Outpost Harry along with the 5th RCT infantry. While climbing the mountain a round came and killed him and the infantry commander, along with wounding his Corporal radio man. I really missed Lt. Bauer, as he was my pinochle partner when he was off the hill. He was really a good man. We seemed to grieve for the guys for a day, and then we went on to the next day, as it may be your turn. It seemed that money did not have much value with the outlook on life you had there.
We were on the move so much that our mail was not keeping up with us. Going back for showers and going to the PX were put on hold. On Saturday July 11, 1953, a lot of that caught up with us. I believe two truck loads of men went back for showers and clean clothes. They also went to the PX, and got a beer ration, the first in a long time. Several men received boxes from home, a welcome sight, and the men seemed to be in pretty good spirits, especially after receiving mail from home. If it would only have quit raining so much, which sure made life miserable?
Clyde Robertson and I got to be pretty friends in Basic and also in Korea. We usually went to see each other, either to the guns or him coming to the detail section. Approximately a week before the overrun, at one of our visits he told me he received word that his cousin in the Infantry was reported missing in action. We discussed it and came to the conclusion that he was probably killed. When we finally got to prison camp, there he was. The Chinese had thrown a concussion grenade into his bunker and knocked him out, damaging his ears pretty badly. His cousin’s name was Gephart and he came home with a disposition like most of us did only worse. The fall after getting out of the service Robertson and Gephart drove a car under the rear end of a semi-trailer, killing both.
On Sunday morning, at about 10 AM, Monfort, a guy that I took basic with from Kansas came to see me. He was an FO with the 10th FA (Field Artillery) Battalion, 3rd Division. We had visited for no more than 15 minutes when the order came that we were moving to a new position. This was on July 12, 1953. Thank God, we were to be completely gone by 4 PM, since we always ate our evening meal between 5:00 and 5:15 PM, and on this day four rounds landed where our kitchen tent had been. It appeared that they had an FO somewhere in the area. Also the day before, some rounds landed in A Battery, wounding one or two there. This seemed to be the start of our bad luck.
As a wire crew chief, our duty was to run telephone lines from headquarters to our new position. We had trouble running the lines, working on them from about 10:30 AM till about 10:00 PM we hooked up the wire to our end and someone had stolen our line at the other end. We reported to Lt. Brave (Battery Exec Officer) and he told us to forget the line for that day -- they would use radios that night for fire missions. From what I have heard later on there was little firing of the guns if any at all. This was Sunday night.
Monday, July 13, 1953, we got up the usual time and after breakfast; we proceeded to run a new telephone line in the rain. We were all wet from working in the rain, and we decided to run the new line in the stream, hoping that no one would steal this one. When we had completed this job it was about 3:00 PM and we went to our tent and put on dry clothes. I remember putting on a clean pair of socks that had a couple of small holes in them. These holes ended up awful big by the end of our march north -- in fact, the toes and heels were all gone and in reality the socks had basically rotted off our feet.
We sat around the rest of the afternoon as I had guard duty that night. I went on at 8:00 PM and was relieved at 9:00 PM. My duty station was near the tent that we slept in and I paused once while walking by to talk with Lt. Rood, Officer of the Day and a 90 day wonder (ROTC). He was telling someone else that the best fighting soldiers in Korea were the ROK (Republic of Korea) soldiers. I’ll probably have more to say of the ROKs as we go along. This 90 day wonder from Oklahoma had gotten there about two weeks before that, and had just a few hours to live as he was killed by the Chinese the next afternoon along with about eight or nine other good soldiers.
At 9:00 PM when I was relieved of duty, four white prosperous rounds hit us as if to mark us. As in welding, if a burning element hits you it will burn right through your body. The only way to stop it from burning is to stop the air to it with mud or something of that nature.
The first thing I did when the rounds hit was to go to my tent and take a raincoat, a shovel and some ammunition for my carbine that I had cleaned before going on guard duty. With this in hand, I headed for the open field and dug a fox hole, as it was the Detail Section’s duty to form a perimeter of defense for the artillery guns. At this spot I had managed to dig a foxhole by 11:00 PM that I could barely see out of, because of heavy incoming rounds, some of them very close. There was a 30 caliber machine gun located to the east of me and also a fox hole to the west of me. I do not know who was in either position.
To me, our battery position was very badly sited, as the guns were sitting on the forward slope of a hill where all incoming rounds seemed to have a direct line of fire on us. There was a small road that went in front of the guns heading west and as it went by us it headed southwest and then northwest up to the main line. This road was between the guns and my foxhole. There also was a small stream that hugged a large straight mountain to the northwest of our guns and right below that were a squad tent and a kitchen tent, and also our kitchen trailer which kept extra food, mostly C rations, I think. That night the radio jeep was also next to this mountain. This stream was the same one through which I had run our telephone line to headquarters. Having been to HQ, I should remember where it was but I do not. I also do not remember where A or B battery were. I believe FDC (fire direction center) was to the west of the guns and to the north of the road.
Each gun section had a squad tent behind each gun (south of the guns), where each gun Section Chief was in charge of his gun. The No. 1 and No. 2 guns were manned by South Korean soldiers, most of whom had been doing this since the start of the war. They told our gun crews that the fighting was worse now, and that we were firing more rounds now, late in the war (whoops, Police Action). Our ammunition dump was to the southwest of the guns where a small supply of ammunition was held, but not enough for a major fire mission. Usually when a big fire mission started, our trucks started hauling more. Also Ordinance from the rear hauled ammunition.
At midnight, a self-propelled 105 mm artillery unit, the 92 FABn, left their positions and come through our area with their headlights on. You could hear the men on the gun sections hollering to turn the lights off but to no avail; they just kept on going. After they went through, it seemed that no incoming rounds landed out of our area. It came in very heavy and hard the rest of the night. I believe they lost one gun in their fight with the enemy. Don Wakehouse still has nightmares about the 92nd FA going through us with their headlights on.
At about midnight, Mother Nature came a calling -- I got out of the fox hole, and got my pants about half down when the whistle of incoming rounds changed Mother Nature’s mind. I believe this happened two more times with the same results. I finally dug a hole in the side of the foxhole. This was the last time for six days, and then after that you could not stop, even though I had the runs. (Two of the guys who were captured could not go, so after 11 days the Chinese gave them some Epsom salts, and results were obtained.)
All this time rounds kept coming in. I remember one landing on the edge of my foxhole. Another volley of four rounds marched toward my hole, starting a little to the northwest, and each one getting closer. The last one landed very near the edge of my hole, and I had dirt splattered on me more than once.
About 1:30 AM, Sgt. McGriff jumped into my hole, and told me he had to check on the machine gun to the east. While he was there he told me if anything happened to him that I was to take over command of the defense perimeter. Why me? I was just a PFC (Private First Class) and there were some Sergeants around. He had just left me when a round came in. He could not have been more than five to ten feet away. My first thought was that he had cashed it in, but than he jumped back in with me and said “whew,” that was close. We laughed about this but were both scared.
During the night we continually had foot soldiers heading south through our position. I believed them to be ROK soldiers, because you could see they had the little towel and tooth brush with them that they usually carried. It seemed they had left their positions on the MLR (main line of resistance) and left us holding the bag. The ones that came through after 1:00 AM kept saying, “don’t shoot GI” It was so dark that you could see hardly at all, but went by the sound. After talking with others later, we come to the idea that these latter troops were the Chinese. They walked right through us and we did not even know it. Reports were that the line was moved south about 2000 yards -- and eventually the Chinese line was some distance behind our last gun position. We were not far from Kumsong so it was called the Kumsong Salient (salient meaning breakthrough). Our last position is now in North Korea. I always wondered if any of the bodies were ever recovered to be sent home. As of this time the bodies have not been returned and the DOD says it will be several years before they enter that position.
Sometime between 1:00 and 2:00 AM, I received word that Lt. Brave wanted to see me. After running between volleys of incoming, I finally got to Lt. Brave. The telephone lines had been knocked out and he said that there was no use in going out to fix them. I now believe he had a better handle on what was going on than I did, as at this point being captured never entered my mind. I just knew that we were getting the Hell shelled out of us and when daylight came we would be all right, as usually was the case on big firing missions.
Somehow word got to me about 2:00 to 3:00 AM to leave my position and go to the area of the mess tent where the radio jeep was. Upon getting there it seemed to be mass confusion. Sgt. Norman (First Sergeant) had just returned from headquarters where he had taken some wounded. The orders that he brought back were “Stay at all costs, form a new line”. Our communications were all out at this time, and every one was just standing around, seeming to be waiting for someone to take charge, of which no one did. I finally made an attempt to get the radio working, but to no avail. I guess it was a little while after that we went into “look out for yourself” mode. I really don’t remember any direct order to abandon position.
After years of trying to find all that had gone on during the battle and afterwards, I finally met two great guys. One is Hugh Wubben, a retired History Professor from Corvallis OR. He is writing some history on what went on in our battery. He’s got himself quite a job, but we have compared a lot of notes. The other fellow is John Balek, the former Battery Clerk of B Battery from Joliot, IL. Both made it out in the overrun.
Quoting from an article John wrote about this time, “I heard from another headquarters battery that before we were being surrounded, we could have been given the word to pull back, but a General O’Meara wanted us to fight to the last man. Finally, but too late, he was overruled. When we got the word, it was too late.” General O’Meara later was on the Joint Chief of Staffs in Washington, DC when talking to Lt. Brave in the fall of 1995, he had said that the IXth Corps had written us off about 2:00 AM. Further quoting from Balek’s articles “in November or December, 1953, the 555th received the Korean Presidential unit citation. Syngman Rhee (South Korea President) was supposed to deliver it in person, but his foreign minister Soong did it instead. General Maxwell Taylor (then General of the forces in Korea) gave a speech in which he said, among other things, we didn’t deserve the citation.” This is the same General Taylor that greeted each POW as they got off the truck, saying that he was glad to have us back.
Recently I obtained the name of a fellow that was interested in the Kumsong Salient and here is a quote from his letter, “The statistics from Truce Tent and Fighting Front, the official history of the last two years of the Korean War, is awesome. From June 10 to the end of it on July 27 the Chinese had 110,458 casualties and the United Nations Command total was 52,890. It is estimated that 90% or better of the casualties on both sides occurred in the Salient! Casualty-wise it was almost as big as the Battle of the Bulge in World War II.”
The artillery men, when they received a fire mission order, usually left their bunks and put some shoes and clothes on, recognizing that usually after the mission was over they returned back to bed. They also usually had a split crew so that only half the men were on the guns at a time, while the other half got some night sleep. On this night they did not expect any heavy fire until after midnight but it come at about 9:00 PM and never let up, so whatever clothes they had on were what they got captured with. Some had just received new boots, and put them on with no socks -- we saw some pretty blistery feet on the march. The artillery crew usually consisted of about 10 men, each one having their duties and some duplicated positions to fill for the split crews. They also left their rifles by their bunks so when we departed the area very few of the gun crew men had any fire arms. Maybe they were lucky, in that that might have saved a few more from getting killed.
In trying to get away, several of us headed up the mountain to the south between the guns and the ammunition dump. Somewhere around this time I attached my bayonet to my carbine, and then noticed that it had been tampered with, as the handle had some slack put in it. Therefore it did not stay on the rifle so it was lost before going too far. This was a new bayonet about a month old, so I figure we must have had a little sabotage going on in our outfit. I do not remember how many of us headed up the mountain, but we seemed to go our own way a little at a time. Somewhere in there as I was going up this mountain, I slipped, slid a little way back down and landed on a rock, cutting my left knee. It was about an inch and a half cut, and pretty deep and it did heal up on its own as we tried to save what medical stuff we had for maybe worse conditions. Somewhere around this time we began to hear the sounds of the Chinese bugles -- it seemed that three of them communicated and you were in the middle of the triangle. You never did see them but they sure made some chills run up and down your back. I still can hear them.
We got to the top of the mountain that I’d describe as a finger and we were on the eastern end. Sgt. McGriff and the 90 day wonder Louie were there, along with about ten other men. I do not remember too many of them, but I believe Ralph Thrush from Pennsylvania was one of them. I remember a few faces but not the names. The 90 day wonder began talking about things that we should be doing and he did not impress me at all. Seeing Lt. Brave along with a few other fellows a little to the west of me, I crept away and went over to the other guys along the elbow of this ridge. At this time there were eight of us and we would all get captured together.
About 5:30 to 6:00 AM, Lt. Brave got a call from Lt. Conboy from below us saying that his group was surrounded. Lt. Brave said that we will hold them off from our side so that maybe they could make it out, and they did. Of the eight of us, only four had rifles and very little ammunition, so I started firing. I fired six rounds when my carbine jammed. It was at this small break that some other eyes were on the surrounding area and when we looked to the higher ground to our rear, the Chinese troops were lined up shoulder to shoulder and dug into trenches that seemed to have considerable depth to them. Upon seeing this I moved a little to the south and hid behind a small rock (it seemed too small to me anyway). A Chinese soldier came down to us with his arms up motioning to raise our hands and surrender. I continued to lay behind the rock with my carbine centered on his guts. He was about six feet from me, when I heard yelling saying “don’t shoot, don’t shoot”. The slack was pulled out of the trigger and it would not have taken much to have fired. But luckily I did not, for if I had they would have killed us all immediately.
It was at this time that we had given up our “Freedom.” We no longer had any control of what we did but had to do as we were told. It seems funny how that rifle and bayonet along with burp guns could speak such plain English. They got their point across very well -- no arguments. I believe with my being captured that I was Howard County’s third Korean causality. I found later that I was the fourth.
Right after being captured, we were searched and they took anything that could be used against them. They then moved us closer to their position with a guard standing over us. It may seem odd, but after being captured we were so tired that we went to sleep until the rain awoke us. We were awakened to the noise of our own rounds coming in on us. The first to get wounded was a Corporal from the motor pool. The Sergeant from the motor pool said to give him a morphine shot, as it looked like one side of his face was blown off after he had wiped it with his hand. The medic that was with us had his medical bag along with him and his comment was “that’s not my job anymore, it’s theirs” as he looked up at the Chinks.
We started digging fox holes with bare hands and steel helmets. Our hands got to looking like hamburger meat in a little while as the ground was about half rocks. During this process, we had to hit the ground several times because of incoming rounds. At one time we lay with our faces to the ground and were lying shoulder to shoulder. When the guy next to me was hit with shrapnel, I moved again. Another guy moved into the spot that I had just vacated and he was hit. I believe three guys were hit but I did not get any shrapnel wounds. His wounds consisted of a cheek wound, shrapnel in the left rear shoulder, shrapnel to the upper part of the leg that went into bone, and a broken kneecap. He walked all the way with us, and ended up with a permanent limp and shrapnel in the arch of his foot. He had a hard time walking -- in fact the Chinese took him away to help him for awhile. He was later returned five days after the war was over, and told us of the cease fire.
The Chinese guard was also hit. He tied a white cloth around his head and kept on standing guard. Lt. Brave told me of the radio that they had told a man to use. An incoming round hit his position and killed him. Another man entered into the hole and another round came in and decapitated him. They moved him out and another relieved him. I believe he also was killed. At least some of our incoming was doing some good
About 10:00 AM, we began our walk north. As we walked past our old gun position, it appeared that there were dead lying in quite a big area. The kitchen truck had a 50 caliber machine gun over the cab of the truck and a man was laying over it, dead. I heard later that this was Cpl. Hall. I guess he uttered some expletives in trying to get the machine gun to work, but he lost. Dwain Swartz, a fine soldier that I took basic with and was on gun six, was seen lying to the southwest toward the ammo dump. He lay in his white tee shirt, dead. He paid with his life; he was a good soldier. One of our Korean crew chiefs had his head blown off. I did not see him but was told of it later, and this was also confirmed by Wubben. Thrush asked me if I had seen the guy lying on the ground with a hole in him so large that you could see the ground through him. I guess it depended on exactly which route they took us on, as I did not remember seeing him.
By talking with the guys that were captured that saw guys killed and adding later information, I estimate we had about 25 good men killed that day, along with 40 captured. I never did hear how many were wounded.
Walking further North we passed an American soldier that was in bad shape. As we went by he weakly said “Help me, help me.” It was hard to keep going but the enemy made it very clear that we were going on. The wounded man had a very yellow look to him as he leaned on his left elbow -- I’m sure he did not last too long. I believe that if the path we walked had not been cleared, that we could not have walked without stepping on the dead. Also in this area, which was the old MLR, the Chinese dead were lying around -- they seemed to be in bunches and very close together. The one dead that made me stop was a Chinese soldier with his head blown off. It laid a few feet away -- a site that I will never forget. We also walked past a dead soldier that had been there for some time and had started to decompose -- a very nasty smell. While walking this area, the water that ran off was red with blood.
When we walked through our abandoned position, a Chinese soldier had helped himself to our recently received rations and boxes from home. He was sitting on a rock eating a can of Van Camps pork and beans and drinking a bottle of Japanese Asahi beer that came in quart bottles.
The soldiers that were with McGriff and the 90 day wonder tried to make a break for it through the enemy lines about 4:00 PM that afternoon. One soldier that had arrived about three weeks before in Korea stood up and threw his rifle away. The enemy zipped him. Also at about this time the Chinese started up the hill to flush the guys out. They shot at anything. One guy made it to the bottom of the hill and gave himself up. They left him unguarded. Ralph Thrush was with the group that I first joined and left. He had seen McGriff and the rest get killed. He and another wounded soldier hid halfway down the hill overnight, holding on to a tree all night. At daylight they decided they had to do something so they went to the bottom of the hill and surrendered.
Lt. Hopper, our battery commander, and Heflin, our Battery clerk, were killed, both with burp gun fire and both died instantly. Heflin and Balek from B Battery took basic together. Don Wakehouse originally from Pisgah, IA, was wounded in the left wrist area and right leg in the knee area. He hid under some brush for two days, lost a lot blood, and passed out a few times. The Air Force came in and bombed the area. They destroyed the guns, blowing one over the road, and also blew up the ammunition dump. Don said he never heard such a loud explosion as when the dump was hit. After two days he said that he knew that he would need help so he surrendered. He spent his first night in a MASH-like medical place in a cave, where he was operated on. He ended up in the same prison camp that I did but he had it a lot rougher. He contracted a bone disease while there and when he was released, he was sent to a hospital in Japan for about six months. He was the last Korean prisoner of war to return to the United States. His left wrist was operated on and is pretty much normal. His right leg is locked at the knee and he wears a brace. He says after all these years of favoring the right leg the left one is now bothering him. But he made it, and it took him several years to beat the bone disease, but he did. He now lives in the Denver area, retired, and is presently active in the American Ex Prisoners of War Association. He recently moved to Show Low, AZ. He was in such poor condition when he was repatriated that they did not let his wife know for a couple of days that he was free.
We stopped about noon for a break and the Chinese were burying their dead in one mass grave, just throwing them in a large hole. We were given our first Chinese food: it was about the size of a plug of chewing tobacco, hard as a rock, and I believe it was their form of C ration. Somewhere around this area, we came upon one of our ¾ ton trucks. It was about 20 feet away before we saw it -- they were masters at camouflage. The first night was spent in a hole with rats running around your head and knocking dirt on your face. It was like a hole dug into the side of the mountain, but I guess no worse than the rest of the night shelters we had on the march. We were all very depressed as it was starting to settle in what had happened to us.
In the first two days after capture more troops kept joining us, mostly from C Battery. We ended up with 41 of us in this group that were kept together.
Our next to last position was an Artillery position manned by all Koreans. This also was overrun and the officers marched along with us, either to the rear or sometimes in front. They caught up with us the first night we slept with the rats, which just lay on top of us and made themselves comfortable.
In the first 7 to 10 days, it seemed that no one was as concerned with himself as he was about the Missing in Action Report that would be going to their homes, with each of us imagining in their mind what the reactions would be. There was nothing we could do about that -- we knew how we were but could not tell anyone at home. After this time everyone got to thinking of being here for a long haul, preparing themselves for the worst, or whatever might happen to them, depending a lot on the disposition of the enemy troops and how they felt about you.
Most of us had our steel helmets on, and some of us, I included, had shrapnel vests. It seemed that each place we stopped for a break a little of our unnecessary gear was left behind. I used my steel helmet for a mess gear to hold the rice or millet that we were getting. It was very greasy so after about two meals we left it lay on the ground. Some of us kept our helmet liners, which were much lighter, and we used them to drink from. About the only water we got when walking was river water. Most of the streams were about waist to arm pit deep and you could see the bottoms which were lined with rock. While crossing, someone would take the liner and fill it with water, take a drink and pass the water back. Every one took a drink, and pretty soon the liner came back. This took care of you till the next time you were thirsty.
The food menu consisted of rice, millet, dried fish heads, and some other things that weren’t too appetizing. The rice and millet was cooked and eaten just out of the kettle -- no flavoring of any kind. We complained of this once and they gave us some crushed rock salt, like the city puts on the streets. When we got to the bigger camp we got some cooked vegetables with rice, steamed bread that was heavy like a rock, something that we called elephant ears and also some stringy stuff that we called gristle. Rice was a delicacy, after having millet. Millet is bird food but it was still better then nothing, as was the case in WWII. We got fed only twice a day and on one long march we carried some rice along on our shoulders, rotating it with a few men. We marched on several smaller trips going from one spot to another, but on the longest one we started about 4:00 PM and walked until about 6:00 AM. On this march the water was not available so we got pretty thirsty. About 3:00 to 4:00 AM we heard some water running so we took the helmet liner to get some water. This was some nasty stuff, and one could taste the human waste as this was water running on a rice field.
I do not remember all the places in which we stayed -- most were about the same. We usually kept our clothes and boots on as you never knew when we were to be moved. One night I took my boots off and used them as a pillow, and very early in the morning we were aroused to move, and I could not find my boots. The prospect of having to have to walk on the stony roads bare-footed really scared me. I did finally find them, but I was the last one to leave the hole.
We were kept in the high mountains a few days and it was cold there. They gave us the winter coats the Chinese wore, and I found one that fitted me. The cover we slept under leaked water and the ground was wet. Don Maxwell, from Pennsylvania, and I spent most of our time together. When you slept it was shoulder to shoulder, or in whatever way that you could get warm with the coats laid over your shoulders and hips. About the time you were about to go to sleep, the body lice started to move, either between your toes with your boots on, or up the small of your back going just about anywhere that you could not reach them. They were a constant companion. In the morning we would find them in the seam of our clothes and try and get rid of them; we got a few.
The places that we stayed had a raised area to the sides that was made of about two inch sticks, tied together. Don and I slept on the wet ground. Before laying down we got some pines off the trees to put on the ground; it helped a little but not much. When we got up in the morning, along the paths were several piles of human waste. This was a common occurrence, as they used that as their fertilizer. While in the high mountains, I witnessed something that I did not think I would ever see in my life: across the valley, between the rocks, a Korean civilian was plowing the ground with a stick in the ground pulled by oxen.
One day we crossed a stream that was only about knee deep. We were about half way across when we noticed an enemy artillery piece set in the middle of the river, painted the same color as the water. They also had their small arms ammunition in square metal containers stored along the bank of the river. They had some other ammunition there but not in large quantities. The Chinese army also had 31 caliber and a 51 caliber machine guns. We used 30 caliber and a 50 caliber guns, and therefore they could use our ammunition in their machine guns but we could not use theirs.
I read an article that said the Chinese soldier went to the front with either three or five days supply of food and ammunition; after that was gone he had to live off the land or the enemy. On these day marches we met small horses carrying ammo and supplies to the front. One night we met Chinese troops moving south, laughing it up and having a party. I believe they were on something as there was a funny smell in the air. Whenever we met a truck, they speeded up as they did not want us trying to escape. They also had a trench on each side of the valley for troop movement. The interpreter told us that they could move on us anytime that they wanted, as they knew when our harassing fire missions were coming, so they would hole up. A lot of the time that was about all the fire missions were, and they seemed to be timed for the same time every night.
When we were first captured the Chinese soldiers all carried AK-47 burp guns and they seemed to know how to shoot them; Hopper and Heflin had been shot between the eyes. The further back we went, the more they seemed to carry rifles that were Japanese with a three sided bayonet that was quite long. I believe some were left-overs from WWII, and they got your respect.
Some days when on marches we carried branches and whenever our plane flew over us we would stop and set ourselves along the path to look like brushes. Also one day the planes had a target over the mountain from us. We also saw a lot of damage that the planes had done -- some bridges knocked out -- but it seemed as though most of the holes were away from what looked to be the target.
I remember one day as we walked through a village a truck hit a dog and before it was through kicking, the civilians were fighting for it. Thrush asked me if I remember walking through the mine field. I guess we did but I do not remember it. It seems funny how we each remember different things.
The terrain was very steep mountains and the further north we walked the steeper they became. It seemed that we walked more vertically then than on a straight plane. We had no way of telling what direction we going but I always watched the sun to get a sense of the direction in which we were headed. Sometimes we did not head in a northerly direction, but most of the time it was either north or northwest.
Somewhere along the march we were interrogated by an interpreter. My interview lasted for about two hours. They wanted to know why we needed six officers in our Battery. We told them we had a Battery Commander and an Executive officer, and they knew that. They kept wanting to know what the other four officers duties were and I was not about to tell that most of them were Forward Observers at sometime or other. Their questioning always tried to keep you off guard. One question was on the local situation and the next pertained to something here in the United States -- they always kept jumping around. One questioner wanted to know what my folks did and how much money they made. I avoided that one. Sgt. Fischer from Wisconsin got them mad, which did not take too much to do. They pulled out a map of our last area and had the location of each squad tent, the Sergeant in charge and the number of men assigned to each tent. The interpreter and his wife were going to college in San Francisco as late as l951, and he was along with us for a long time. At some of the stops he told us how good Communism was and all of its advantages as far as he was concerned. They did not appeal to me a bit.
Our Chief of Firing Battery, Sgt. Cook and Sgt. Sherrill, in charge of gun section No 6, got into an argument and Sgt. Cook tried to have Sgt. Sherrill shot if he did not do as Cook told him. This did not go over with the rest of us. I believe most of us thought more of Sherrill then Cook anyway. Cook retired from the military. I do not know what happened to Sherrill who was from Louisiana.
On our final day before reaching camp we rode in a truck. This took most of the day. There was a Chinese officer riding in our truck and he sat pretty glum the whole trip. We ended up in what the Chinese called Camp Six. Some called it Death Valley and also the Mining Camp. It was along a stream that was white from some mining up the valley. They had a hospital of a sort there. The reason it was called Death Valley was that on Christmas Eve of 1950, something like 10 or 12 soldiers died that night. In talking with others they said that was a conservative figure. Some of the guys went to see Don Wakehouse who was in pretty bad shape at this point. He had infection oozing out of his leg and was in a lot of pain. One of our roommates named Quinn was assigned to a detail that was needed to dig some dirt for an oven in the kitchen. After digging up two bodies they cancelled the detail and did it another day. Quinn was our Battery night baker. He really could bake some good stuff, and he always had on coffee and rolls for anyone that stopped at night. He also happened to be gay. He was from New York and died several years ago. He was a big man but slimmed to a nice figure on that diet.
The barracks we were put in were made of thin walls with a dirt floor, with a space under it for burning branches that could be put under there in winter for heating the rooms. There were seven of us to a room -- not a lot of space, but we were not laying on each other. We were given a mat and a blanket. After being here for a week or so we got a haircut and a shave. They really felt good. They also marched us about two to three miles away on a hot day to take a swim in the river above the area where the white discharge came in from the mine -- the first attempt to see that we were clean. We do not know how we smelled, but there was never a word said about it. I guess we all smelled the same. Our GI clothing was taken and we were given blue clothes that looked like pajamas along with a pair of canvas shoes of which you could not tell right from left.
We were divided into three squads for whatever reason I do not remember. Lt. Brave was kept along with us but separate so that he could not talk to us. The buildings were laid parallel to a road that went in front of us. There were no fences holding us -- just guards on the high ground around us. The marines that were captured in March were in the First platoon, my group in the Second platoon, and the balance of the men in the Third platoon -- about 75 to 80 men in total. They had a kitchen there where the food was prepared. I will say that the food was better here than while we were walking. They cooked some tea for us twice a day, as the water from the open pit wells was not safe to drink. The men that thought they had to drink it left camp with boils on their bodies, some as many as seven to eight, and as big around as a grapefruit or bigger. They also had a library there, all filled up with Communist propaganda, with the red star on some books. We were encouraged to read this material but I read none of it. Ruben Fischer had a Catholic new testament along so I read that instead. I always carried one while overseas, but the day before when we got out of our wet clothes I left it by my bunk.
They also had a hospital at this camp that got strafed by our planes earlier in the war and killed several of the wounded. We had a sick call here -- it mostly consisted of problems for those who had the runs or could not go. They gave either a black or white pill. I do not remember which way anymore, but you took one if constipated followed by the other one, and if you had the runs it was the opposite way. I lucked out and never went on sick call. One X-POW told me in his two years in camp that he never had a solid stool, which was normal.
They did not want to have you store away any food for a possible escape, so if any leftovers were available, you would take it back to the kitchen. One day we had one steamed bun so instead of taking it back we threw if out the back of the building into some tall weeds. It made a noise it as it landed. The guards heard it and were running around like crazy for a while. We had to have some entertainment and got quite a kick out of watching them being so riled up. While we were here a big pig was out back, and any left over food was given to him. One hot day before we left they butchered the hog and we got our portion that evening -- about as big a piece as what is in a can of pork and beans.
Along the march the smokers were given no tobacco or supplies to smoke, so they would smoke anything that they could find, paper, straw or anything. Their throats were so sore that they could hardly talk. I never smoked so this was not a problem for me. When we got to camp we were given a package of tobacco once a week that consisted of a little tobacco, wood carvings, dirt and a few other things, but it was better than nothing. We were also given a porcelain drinking cup. It reminded me of the one I had in the country grade school. We were also given one cup of sugar to use as we wished, and at that time I used it in my tea. The tea that they gave us twice a day did not have much strength -- mostly colored water but it was boiled. We usually got a pan of tea that had about ten cups. I learned to drink it quite hot so that I could get maybe a little more.
A colored soldier from South Carolina, Hugh McClary was watching the civilians walking by camp one day and the Chinese brass said that he was making a pass at one of the girls, so they made him stand at attention for 30 minutes for that. In the first part of the war until the end of 1951, it was the North Koreans that guarded the prisons. After that the Chinese guarded the prisoners. The saying was that if you did something that they didn’t like the Korean’s would beat you once for each crime. If you were being punished by the Chinese, they punished you for that crime, along with repunishing for one again with each subsequent crime. I would like to get in touch with McClary as he was one fine man.
The civilians that walked past the camp have a dirty look to them, like a good scrubbing would do a lot of good. Several small children were seen walking and they had a stomach on them that you would think was fat but you could count their ribs from the malnutrition. The women that walked by usually had a short blouse on that did not entirely cover their breasts, leaving the bottom portion exposed below the blouse. A lot of the women had an infant tied to their back or on the side being breast fed as they walked. The men usually had a long beard and carried their loads on an A frame on their back. Sometimes they had such a large load that all you could see was their feet.
Shortly before we got to camp the Marines cleaned an area across the stream for sports, mostly for basketball and they had what they called their Olympics. The ground was not quite level -- it had a few rocks protruding up from the ground, but it was not bad. The first week there the Marines wanted to play the Army boys in a game. Thrush, Annunziata and myself played but none of us can remember who the other two were as we were all in the same room. Quinn and Maxwell were also in our room. We played 15 minute quarters and we led by about four points most the way, and beat those 32-28. The day before leaving camp they wanted to play again. There was a discussion about how long the length of the quarters was to be. They settled on 20 minutes, and they said that they will wear that big SOB out, meaning me. I guess I shoved a little hard under the basket. We trailed the first three quarters by about four points. By the fourth quarter they were starting to get tired, but we were in good shape as we had just finished walking. Anyway we beat them by four points and they were pretty poor losers. We offered to split the winnings: a carton of cigarettes and a pound of candy, but they refused and walked away in a bad mood. They had a Marine from Michigan with a Polish name that was very athletic, but his friendliness was something else -- maybe that was because he was a Marine. I figured on bringing two packs of these cigarettes home as souvenirs to give to Alvin, but after I was released they were thrown away.
That evening we were given a bottle of wine, approximately a 12 ounce size, one to a room. We divided it seven ways and believe it or not, we got to feeling pretty good. A couple of Frenchmen that worked in the kitchen got so loose that they urinated over the concrete wall that separated the levels of the buildings.
The second basketball game, eating the pork and the wine were all part of our farewell upon leaving this camp. They had told us that we were leaving the next day for a prison exchange and we were a very happy group of soldiers.
The next day we loaded on trucks, about 15 to 20 on each, and headed to Kaesong, a holding area, until our names were called to be released to United States control. We really didn’t do much but wait. The National Red Cross was there and handed out cigarettes and a few miscellaneous things, but we were told they could not say anything to our lines. They had a piano accordion there. I had taken a few lessons and knew a couple tunes, played my two tunes, got requests to play a different one that I did not know, put the accordion down and left.
A small stream was close by so I cleaned up there. Some of the others pulled their pants down and they had an eye tattooed on each cheek. Some also had a black widow spider tattooed under their left arm on the rib cage. The Chinese thought this was an escape signal and said that they were trouble makers and kept most of them separate. There also were some of our troops to the east of this camp; reputed to be the big trouble makers as far the Chinese were concerned. Most of them came out after I did. I stayed at Kaesong for two days. On the second day we were told to move to another building. The morning of the third day we loaded on trucks for the ride to “Freedom.”
On the way to Panmunjum we met several truckloads of Korean and Chinese on trucks heading north. A lot of them tore their clothes and boots off and threw them along the road. It did not set to well with us; in fact it made us mad to see that respect for the good old USA.
On August 25 1953, at about 9:00 AM we neared Freedom Bridge. The first MP that we saw was a beautiful sight: those clean pressed fatigues, polished helmet and that sharp stature that he held. Also seeing the US flag again, Oh, what a Beautiful site; it looked grand. We drove up in front of the tents, were greeted by Gen. Taylor, went inside where we were offered religious services, sat at tables and were waited on by Sergeants First Class and Master Sergeants. They treated us great and oh, how great it was to be there; it felt like a big weight had been lifted off your shoulders. That is about as good as I can explain it. If you have not been there you do not quite know the feeling of the entire experience.
I spent six weeks or 42 days in an enemy prison camp, the longest six weeks of my life, just like the night of the battle that led to my capture had been the longest night in my life; they will never be forgotten. These memories have been with me all these years and I will take them to my grave. There is hardly a day in life that an incident happens, either said or seen, that does not remind you of your experiences.
After the relaxation with our own troops, we were marshaled into an area where we stripped to our bare skin. I did keep my billfold, dog tags, wrist watch and a fountain pen. The two packs of cigarettes that I had figured on taking home were discarded over a fence. We were deloused, finally got rid of the body lice, and took a shower. They gave us a bath robe and a real quick physical, and by about 11:00 AM we were in a large squad tent with bunks that had the longer legs so your feet barely touched the floor. While here and shortly after arriving, the medics came and put a mask over a soldiers face, someone that been on the same ship going overseas with us. They took him away, and we never did see him again. There was a Red Cross hospital ship (I believe the USS Hope) in Inchon harbor. Our first meal in Freedom consisted of roast beef with mashed potatoes, and I believe green beans. It really tasted good. After lunch we were fitted with two sets of fatigues and two set of dress khakis and a pair of dress shoes. This was all we got until we reported back for duty after leave.
About 3:00 PM we were loaded on helicopters and flown to Inchon, where we were put in barracks with troops that had come out the preceding three days. At about 5:00 PM the other POWs were sent for supper. Like a fool I went along, had a meal and went again with our guys. We also went to a PX and I bought a wrist watch there that I used for about 20 years. While there the American Red Cross took a picture of us that was sent home. A telegram also was sent. The wording was given to you; all you did was pick out lines to make up your message. I still have all the telegrams that were sent home. That evening the first troops were boarded on the USS Pope, a troop ship, and the rest of us boarded the next morning. Sometime before noon we were on our way home.
While aboard the ship we were given a very thorough physical, and a very intense debriefing. I did not have much information to give them that was of importance. It was at this time that I submitted two names of individuals that I did not think were fair to our own troops. I have talked to some others over the last few years that also remember the fellows that they were with, and did the same thing. We also made arrangements for transportation for our trip home.
We arrived under the Golden Gate Bridge about 10:00 PM on a Tuesday and dropped anchor in the bay in the fog. One could hardly see the bridge above us except for the lights. At about 9:00 AM our ship anchored and the names were called off of those who had a relative there to meet them. After getting off the ship we were bused to Fort Mason near San Francisco, processed some more, and picked up our transportation tickets for home. While we were there, we got to make a phone call home, courtesy of the American Red Cross. We had a little time in the afternoon so a few of us got together and had a beer in a service club. I believe the drink really did not make feel one way or the other. At about 6:00 PM, we were bused to the airport in Oakland, California, where I boarded a plane that took me home, with a stopover in Denver. I had about a four-hour layover there and boarded another airplane for Grand Island, NE.
When I came home and talked to a reporter, I mentioned that the Red Cross treated us well. I may add here that several years later Dad told me the bill was sent to the local Red Cross, and the way he said it I am pretty sure that they also asked to be reimbursed. My opinion of the Red Cross has deteriorated very much since then on account of this.
We landed about 10:00 AM and Alvin met me. It sure was good to see him. We arrived home by noon and I got to greet Mom and Dad. This was on a Thursday. I spent the evening with the folks and some neighbors. On Friday evening I was asked to come to the Howard County Fair where I was asked to go in front of the stage. The local paper had run an article that I was in the states and would be arriving home in about two weeks. Well, when I walked out that night you could hear a pin drop. It really left an impression on me -- I still can remember it.
I had intended to spend more time with the folks on my 30 day rehabilitation leave that was given to all home coming POW’s, but when evening came I was awful jittery, and could not sit still. Somehow we, meaning all X-POW’s, had created an attitude that was not good. I really can not put it into words -- we have not found any that will describe the feeling. I am not the only one; every one has had the same problem. The question is, have we really ever been able to relieve our thoughts of those experiences. For most of us, there still is some or a lot of it left. The group of men who were POWs has the highest rate of alcohol abuse, and the highest rate of divorce. Here is where my luck was still with me, as I got a very good wife, along with other things. We all have PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). In WWII, they called it Combat Fatigue. In the evenings when we met together with the friends that were still around Elba and St. Paul, we usually had a beer or two. The first two weeks, I could drink and it had no effect on me. The last two weeks I was home, if I took a part of a beer, I was heaving my guts out. I guess the hard lining wore off in my guts. I really have had stomach problems ever since.
After my 30 day leave, I reported to Camp Carson, CO, exactly one year from the date of induction. I was assigned to the 97th Field Artillery, Battery B. This again was a new outfit just starting up and was composed of men just out of basic training and men returning from overseas. I made Corporal there for being in prison camp. I was assigned to a gun that had an SFC who had been a gun chief in Korea, and they were looking for gunners. Finally I volunteered and was awarded the job. A few months later when he was discharged, and I was given the crew chief’s job. I was the only Corporal in the Battalion to have this job. In February, 1954, I went to a Chief of Firing Battery school in Camp Carson, and out of about 24 men, I was tied for third place -- I did not think that was bad. In March or April, 1954, I was promoted to Sergeant, an E-5 rating. Orders came out that morning and I had Sergeant of the Guard that night.
We were on 155 Howitzers here, bigger guns than in Korea. The 155 had to be jacked up off the wheels before firing, and all the guns had a hand jack except one. This one gun was assigned to a Sergeant that was not trained in Artillery, and in the states your enemy was the clock. Every time this Sergeant took this gun out be fired, we never met the time allowed to set the gun up, and the Battery failed the tests. One day the Captain called me into his office and told me to take this gun with the hydraulic jack out and see how the crew could do. I told him I would rather take my own crew, but he again convinced me that he was right. Anyway we were the first crew to call in orders that we were ready to fire. We had a good crew and I was proud of them. It was while training to give classes in gun maintenance that a Major and my Battery Commander, a Captain, tried to talk me into going to Officers Candidate School. At that time all I wanted was out. Wubben has told me lately that I would not have liked being an officer, so maybe it was for the best.
Our Battalion was chosen to go to Camp McCoy, WI to train National Guardsmen on the Artillery gun. Before leaving, four of us soldiers were chosen to go from Camp McCoy to Camp Ripley to train the Minnesota National Guard for two weeks. While at McCoy, it was a racket for me as all my responsibilities were taken away from me. So after everyone had their chores to do, the Chief of Firing Battery and I went to the NCO club and visited with a beer in our hand.
After spending my two weeks in Ripley, two of us drove to Camp Carson to receive our release from active duty. While there I was assigned to the 40th group. While there, I went to the field with an artillery battalion to fire the 75 mm howitzer. My job was to stay close to the phone linking camp and our position. These howitzers were moved by being disassembled, loaded on mules or horses and taken to their position. I believe this was the last of this kind of outfit, as they no longer have the mules. These units were used a lot in WWII in the jungles and hard to reach places. They were slow but they did their job.
My Military career ended with the following awards: Bronze Star with “V” for valor, Good Conduct Medal, POW Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Korean Service Medal with 2 Battle Stars, United Nations Service Medal and the Korean Presidential Unit Citation. In respect to Howard County, I asked for POW license plate number 49, the number for Howard County.
By Command of General Taylor and Brigadier General T. L. Sherburne:
GO176, Hq Army, 2 April 1954.
Private First Class DENNIS L. PAVLIK, US55277361, United States Army. Private PAVLIK, a member of the artillery battery, distinguished himself by heroism in action against the enemy in the vicinity of Kumsong, Korea. On the night of 13 July 1953, Private PAVLIK’s battery was under an intense enemy counter-battery barrage. Private PAVLIK was performing his duties as Switchboard Operator when vital communication lines to the battalion headquarters were destroyed by incoming rounds. When no available wiremen could be found in the immediate vicinity, Private PAVLIK volunteered to repair the lines. Leaving the comparative safety of his position, he moved to the flat area of the valley, searched for the breaks and repaired them quickly in spite of the enemy rounds falling around him. Several times he ventured into the open to repair the other essential intra-battery lines, risking serious injury or possible death each time. Because of his exceptional work, the battery was able to maintain contact with battalion headquarters and receive the necessary firing data which enabled the unit to deliver devastating fire on the enemy. The heroism exhibited by Private PAVLIK on this occasion reflects great credit on himself and the military service. Entered the Federal service from Nebraska.
I received my release from active service on July 20, 1954. I drove most of the night, and got home about 3:00 AM. I figured on spending about two weeks at home with the folks, but again the feeling of not being able to sit still came upon me, so on Friday, I went to Grand Island to see if there were openings where I had last worked. There was one, so I went to work on Monday. I worked again in the Signal Dept. until the end of 1954, and in January of 1955 I came to Omaha and got a job at the Snell Sash and Door Co. I worked there for four years, and then moved to work with Thornton Construction Co, where I drew house plans, did estimates, and learned a trade in the home construction field. I worked there for 19 years, but the owner’s finances did not look too good, so I left and went to work for Millard Lumber Inc. for 18 years. All this time I basically worked with the manufacturing of wood roof trusses. I also did a lot of engineering for them. On August 31, 1995, I retired from the labor force and do not regret it. I have drawn a pay check for 45 years and probably missed between three and four weeks without a paycheck. I have never drawn an unemployment check.
After I was released from the service I attended Polka dances, which were common around home, and it was in Grand Island, at the Glovera Ball Room that I met Luella Boyce. After two years we were married, on Sept. 1, 1956. That was also a good move. We have three children: Kevin, born March 1, 1960, Scott, born May 3, 1962, and Denise, born December 10, 1968. So far they have presented us with five grand children: Kevin and his wife Gayle have Kurt and Connor, Scott has Mallory, and Denise has Kyle and Michaela. We feel we have been blessed with three great children and are all in good health. Luella and I are in fairly good health. I had a heart by-pass on May 11, 1992 and am feeling pretty good, but also getting older each year. I was sick before the bypass and did not realize it until the operation was over. Bypass recovery is a long one but worth the time. On a recent visit to the heart doctor, he mentioned that with the know-how we have today, I would not have had to have bypass.
Probably some of the most sensitive things to me while in prison camp were what went on at home. As I have said before we knew how we were, but could not tell anyone. Here are some of the things that I was told after arriving home and in years later:
● The depot agent brought the telegram of my MIA out to the folks in the PM. Uncle Ed Svoboda had moved to the parents place to thrash small grain that evening. Uncle Ed told me when he came in for dinner the next day that the atmosphere was very different -- he was finally told that I was missing in action.
● Frank Tuma left Korea the day that I was overrun. Alvin asked him what he thought my chances were. He said knowing what was going on over there; the chances were very slim that I would come home alive. He was not aware of my missing in action till he arrived in Grand Island, NE.
After the release of prisoners had started, I guess the news media announced the names of the men released, along with the local ones that they had no information on. One night at a dance in Elba, word was going around that I had been released from prison camp. Alvin and Junior Barnes thought that was odd that no notice had come to the folks. So finally after midnight they got on the phone and called the War Department to find out my status and they found that there was no word on me yet, just missing in action.
The guys that I had worked with on the railroad said that they heard that I was shot off a telephone pole while working on communications.
The night that I attended the County Fair, a neighbor that had seen a lot of action in Europe got me away from others and asked “what in the hell happened”. I proceeded to tell him, but while I was talking I was shaking like a leaf. I could not stop it, and that went on for many years. He told me once where he had jumped in a hole, got to feeling around on the ground and found a boot with a foot in it, but no leg.
I have been invited to talk before groups in the last few years -- talking to strangers is not too bad but talking to relatives of some one you know well makes me break down. The head shrink says this is good and to keep on talking and let it out. It embarrasses me and I do not feel too proud of myself.
There are three things that an Ex-POW has a good supply of in the house: they are toilet paper, soap and canned foods. Some have added a fourth and that is to have a warm home, and no more freezing. After reviewing myself, we fit into this category.
I have been called a coward to my face for surrendering. This individual said that I took the easy way, so that I would not have to fight anymore. It is these kinds of idiots that make it harder for an ex-prisoner of war to adjust to life. This individual never had a live round of ammunition fired at him in hate. While I was home on my thirty-day leave another individual questioned the life in prison camp and replied “Oh, you did not like it”. I suppose there will always be these kinds of inconsiderate people -- if they only knew what is was like.
Whoever reads this, I hope you enjoy it. There has been a lot of thought put into it, and I’ve tried to put it in some kind of order. I hope that you can follow it. If this was to have been written again there would probably be some other things that I would remember at the time, but I believe this covers all the important things or things that were important to me at this time. The most important message is “Freedom.” It is something that everyone takes for granted unless you have had it taken away, and I feel very fortunate to have Freedom given back to me. Protect and believe in your country, the good old United States of America. It is not perfect, and never will be, but it is still the best place to live in the world. Freedom is something that touches you but you can not touch it. Again, do not take it for granted as a lot of good men have died so that we may have our Freedom.
26 September 2005 55 YEARS LATER
It may be interesting to others what life has been like for an ex-prisoner of war. Like I stated earlier that when we crossed the Bridge of No Return, we figured all our problems were behind us and that is how we felt when we came home.
The most important lesson from this knows the knowledge of Freedom, what every one takes for granted. As life went on the recurrence of the days is prison camp just never went away, it seems that there are so many incidents that occur each day that remind each and every one of us that the days in camp.
The night of July 14-15, 1953, seems to go through my mind every year and the time of everything happening just seems to be a vivid today as that night. The Chinese soldier that came toward us and waving his hands for us to surrender and my moving behind the rock in a defensive position, the slack pulled out of the weapon that I had and a voice of another soldier saying ”don’t shoot, don’t shoot” has gone my mind many, many times. The thought of what would have happened if I had shot; I probably would not be typing this.
There have been many things that I have thought about that happened, like why did I dig my foxhole in the spot that I did, as several rounds landed very close, close enough to be sprayed with exploding earth, the rounds that marched closer with each incoming. The three men wounded beside from our own incoming that had just moved into the last position occupied and I was not wounded. The prison camp that we ended up after four weeks of walking was a small camp with about 70 military personnel, after hearing on the number of personnel that where taken to some other country and never repatriated, made me wonder that we could have also been handled the same way. In fact I found out about 4 years ago as to the location of where we were. It was near Suan, North Korea, some distance southeast from Pyongyang, the capital of North Korea. This was a holding camp for military personnel that were captured earlier in the war and taken north to more permanent camps; there were several of the troops that were buried there. In fact at the last reunion a person told me about a slope where bodies were buried and then a lot of rain that washed the soil off the bodies and the hogs were eating them, not a very good memory.
This entire experience is just like a puzzle, we are always trying to find all the pieces to a puzzle, we find one once in a while but there are always some still missing. Each year that I go the Korean Ex-Prisoners of War, there is always something new that finds its way into the discussion. The wives do not enjoy this kind of talk, some of the same stories year after year, but it does some good for us that were there to see each other and discuss some of the old times.
Our health problems have probably come from the experience but that would be hard to prove one way of the other, that is why we have the presumptive diseases that have occurred while in camp that have helped us in our treatments. We are also at the age where we need a lot of preventive health care, the Veterans Affairs has done a pretty good job of looking out for us, although you can talk to a doctor for 30 minutes and mention that you were a POW and they do not know it as that info is not on the screen.
I have spoken at several schools about my experience and have a good response each time. I had an interview this spring with a student and she had a good list of questions, I asked her during the interview if she knew what Freedom was and her answer was no. I replied that is when you can walk around without a rifle of bayonet in your back, may be a little strong but that is the way it was the first couple of weeks, the big question was, are they going to use it to be rid of us.
The metric system has always been a problem with me but one day when we were walking, I asked a Chinese soldier how much further were we going, his reply in broken English that it was so many meters. Not knowing the metric system, I must have looked pretty dumb and asked how far that was. His reply was .62 of a mile, and I have remembered that part every since.
Yes, the memories are still there but we are very thankful for having been given our FREEDOM back and we enjoy every day even with the memories. I have also noticed that you very seldom hear a POW complain, another sign of enjoying FREEDOM. The big question still in our mind is WHY ME? I am sure all the others that did not make it would liked a way of life that I and all the other EX-POW’S have enjoyed. We will continue to live with it and maybe it has made us a better person, only you know that answer.
Nebraska had 307 casualties during the Korean War, following are those for late June and July 1953:
June 29, 1953 Shane, Larry, Lancaster Co. KIA
June 30, 1953 Roth, Robert, Red Willow Co. KIA
July 9, 1953 Moore, John, Custer Co. Dies of wounds
July 11, 1953 Jetter, Karl, Dodge Co. Died of wounds
July 14, 1953 Pavlik, Dennis, Elba (Howard Co) MIA Prisoner of War
July 14, 1953 Pederson, Richard , Cedar Co. KIA
July 15, 1953 Smith, August, Hamilton Co, KIA
July 15, 1953 Marcuzzo, Salatore Douglas Co. KIA
July 17, 1953 Erickson, Don, Hamilton Co. KIA
In a matter of about three weeks, Nebraska had 10 casualties, which does include the wounded that is not available to me.
These casualties show you of the guilt feelings that we have and again WHY ME? The odds of one to ten are not very good but I believe that the Lord believes that I still have something to do in this life, so far he has done a good job of helping make decisions.
I hope you have enjoyed reading this story and have gained some knowledge of the life of one part of the military.
Thank you.
[1] Battle Stars, the Official Newsletter of the 5th Regimental Combat Team Association, Sept/Oct 2005, Volume XVI, No.5, page 25
October 14, 1952 - July 20, 1954
Kumsong Salient
My military life began on October 14, 1952, when I was inducted at Fort Omaha, Nebraska. But let me go back a little, to the events leading up to that time.
I graduated from Elba High School, Elba, Nebraska, in May 1950 with a class of ten students. At that time I really did not know what I wanted to do with my life. I felt the only thing I knew was farming and I was afraid to try that because I would need help from the folks and I did not want to put a burden on them.
Anyway, I rented 25 acres of wheat ground that was called the Olsen place. I sowed the wheat with Dad’s tractor, plow and seed, and used my neighbor, Axel Keldsen’s drill. When it came time to harvest, Dad said I could have the use of the equipment for helping all summer.
While this was going on the Korean War began on June 25, 1950. I remember discussing the war with my younger brother Norman as we were going to Farwell to get parts, and told him then that I thought I would have to go into the service.
Shortly after the war started, a sailor from St. Paul, named Bydalik was swept overboard from his ship. This was the first Howard County Korean causality.
In the fall of 1950 at a Saturday night dance in Elba, I overheard Ralph Coufal (a WW II veteran and a reservist from Cotesfield, NE) tell someone he was called up for active duty. He was a ranger and was killed on June 6, 1951. He was killed near Singo Li. This was Howard County’s second war casualty. There may have been some wounded men from Howard County but I do not remember them.
In December of 1950, I went to work in the Union Pacific Railroad’s signal department. The first day that I worked it was about 15 below zero. Herb, a long time friend and I started working on the railroad together, digging ditches between the tracks. We had been cold the night before so after work we went and bought some warm blankets. That sure put a crimp on our eating money till payday. I worked in Columbus, and later bid to get into the Grand Island shops, where I worked for about six months before getting bumped. From there I went to the Omaha Signal shops until I was drafted into the service.
My uncle Ed Svoboda harvested the crop in the summer of 1952. After paying for the expenses, there was but $200 left. I made a decision right then and there that I probably could not make a living as a farmer.
I went for my army physical in June 1952. While this was coming up, I went to an Air Force recruiter two or three times, but could not see spending four years in the service. As it ended up, that could have happened anyway.
I should say here that I did not really want to get attached to any girl, as my gut feeling was that I would not return from overseas.
I worked in Omaha on the railroad until leaving, driving home every weekend and playing town team baseball. I lived up every weekend, and by Friday I had recouped enough for a repeat performance. Several of us were in the same situation.
On the Monday before my draft notice arrived, the Six Fat Dutchmen, a polka band from New Ulm, MN, played in the Elba dance hall. Elba had a population of about 200 and never had seen anything like this before. Junior Barnes from Elba had just been released from the service after spending his time in Korea with the Artillery. Alvin, my older brother and Norma, his wife, and I went to the dance after working all day. The only thing I can say is that was sure a long night, and also a long day at work, but I was glad we went, as we still talk about it.
Having come home for the weekend on Friday night, I checked my mail where Mom always put it and found my notice for induction. On Saturday morning, I worked in the field helping Dad pick potatoes. He was working in the southeast corner of the quarter, or next to the curve of the road as we called it before it was straightened. We worked for a while and later took a break. While we were sitting there I told Dad that I had to go into the service. He did not say much, but he may have had a feeling of some rough times ahead. He told me later when I came home that every time he went into that field; it reminded him of our conversation.
I left Omaha, after being sworn in and headed for Camp Crowder, MO. Bob Jacobson from Dannebrog, a guy from Farwell whose name I do not recall, and I left together. Bob Jacobson and I ended up staying together through basic training. He was in Japan working with the repatriation list when the identity of the freed prisoners were coming through, and told me later he gave out a holler when he saw my name on the list. The last I heard he was living in Hawaii. The fellow from Farwell passed away a few years ago.
We spent three days in Camp Crowder, which was later closed. While there, we received our first clothing issue, and experienced our first taste of marching. We encountered the good feeling of being alone and also of finding new friends. It was the first feeling of the military service.
We boarded buses and headed for Camp Chaffee, AR, where we were fed lunch. Our names were called to either stay at Chaffee or go to Fort Sill, OK. They had made the selection that I was to stay at Chaffee, no questions asked.
I was assigned to B Company, 22nd Armored Engineer for artillery basic training. They were opening closed barracks, and there was a lot of cleaning to do, so we did not get started with training until a week later.
The first eight weeks of basic was infantry training, and you carried an M-1 rifle everywhere that you went. Training was the usual stuff of belittling your ego, and getting you to think military. It seems funny now when you look back on it how they take you in as a raw recruit, thinking only of being a good person, and 16 weeks later you come out trained to kill. You do not think of it that way at the time, but it really was true. The second eight weeks was artillery training. The biggest difference there seemed to be that you carried an M-1 carbine, about half the weight of the M-1 rifle. I had my share of KP (kitchen police), guard duty, and our Friday night rat races, as they called them. This was supposed to build character or something, but I guess that did not quite soak in for me or I missed a class or two.
During our 16 weeks of basic we fired almost all arms: rifles, rifle grenades, bazookas, 30 caliber Machine guns, and 50 caliber machine guns. As far I can remember, we threw hand grenades, had bayonet training, practiced hand-to-hand combat, and fired the artillery guns. We had our usual physical exercises, and marches, and camped out in pup tents for two weeks. They did bring us in for a shower over the first weekend. By the time we had done all this 16 weeks had gone by. We had our company graduation party on my 21st birthday on February 13, 1953. It was time to move on to something more interesting. Our orders were read off and I received the news that I was headed for the Far East, presumably Korea.
After basic training, my attitude about survival had changed a great deal. I was coming back; there was no question in my mind, though I did not realize that would be as tough as it was.
I read an article a few years ago that anyone that had taken basic in Chaffee was automatically headed for Korea. About 30 names were called off that were headed for New York embarkation, and they assumed that they were headed for Europe. Three weeks later they were in Korea; they had gone by way of the Panama Canal.
After basic we received a 10 day delay in route, or a 10 day leave. I went home and at the end of my leave reported to Kansas City, MO. We boarded a troop train for California, and ended up at Camp Stoneman. We were there for five days until orders came to board the troop ship USS Anderson. It did not take long to get sick our first day out at sea. The ship stunk from all the vomiting, but I lucked out, as I did not draw any details while being sick. We went under the Golden Gate Bridge, saw Alcatraz from a distance and we were on our way.
Enroute we stopped in Hawaii for four hours. We were allowed to leave the ship in our khakis. Of course they were in the bottom of our duffel bag and all wrinkled, but who cared -- all they could do was send us into combat and we were headed there anyway. That phrase was used a lot, along with the saying that there no longer was assimilation of live rifle fire.
We landed in Japan at night and went to Camp Drake, the place where they trained the suicide or Kamikaze pilots during WWII. We were supposed to be there 36 hours before boarding again. We were issued M‑1 rifles and combat uniforms, and turned in our stateside uniforms or dress uniforms. We got an issue of some wool shirts and pants along with our original issue of fatigues, more often called our combat clothes. We were supposed to get to test fire the M‑1 rifle, but while they marched the troops out to do that, four of us were behind the barracks cleaning the Cosmoline from our rifles. We did not even know that they had gone to fire them. Oh well, never did get to fire that rifle as we turned it in when we arrived at our destination in Korea.
After about 30 hours we boarded the USS Sturgis troop ship and headed for Korea. Along the way we made a little side trip to Okinawa, let off some troops and picked some others up. Both groups were of Spanish African origin. We were allowed off the ship for about 12 hours. We went to the service club there and had a steak immediately upon getting off the ship, and again before boarding. It sure tasted good and it was the last steak for a long time.
The day before Easter of April, 1953, we landed at Inchon, Korea, after a five day trip that took us through a sea storm in which waves were coming over the front of the ship. We loaded onto troop carrier ships in Inchon harbor and were taken ashore. We loaded on a bus and I received my first impression of the country we were in. I’ve never seen so much filth. We went to Youg-Dung-Po, a smaller town outside of Inchon, where we ended up in a replacement center where we awaited orders for assignment.
While at this replacement center we saw how the local citizens lived. Small kids were taking the garbage out of the cans -- when you went to dump your mess kit, there was usually a kid with his head in the bottom with his feet barely sticking out the top filling a can. The kids usually wore an army blanket cut to size with legs sewed into it
One day, a Papason (old man) was carrying two buckets on a stick, one in front and one in the rear; filled with something (it appeared to be garbage). The kids come up from the rear first, taking whatever out of the bucket. He set the two buckets down and chased the kids to the rear. While doing this they came from the front, and he ended leaving with two empty buckets, not too happy. That was our entertainment for the day. It might have been the same day an MP (military police) threw one kid over a barb wire entanglement that must have about 10-12 feet high. The kid just bounced on the ground, got up and started running.
After two days at a replacement center, I received my orders to be assigned to C Battery, 555 Field Artillery. They were known as the “Triple Nickel.” They were in the Punch Bowl in the eastern front right below the 38th parallel. They had been in this position for nine months. Three weeks later we moved for the first time since arriving in Korea.
There were five of us that took basic together and all assigned to C Battery. They were Clyde Robertson, Dwain Swartz and someone named Semmler, all from the area of Mitchell, SD. The fourth was someone named Singleton, who comes to basic in the fifth or sixth week. He claimed he married a girl from Lincoln, NE. The fifth was I. The other four ended up on the guns and I ended up in the detail section as they were short of men there, and also because of my experience on the railroad.
While we were in the Punch Bowl, we were attached to the 40th Division. My cousin Frank Tuma was also in the 40th division with a heavy mortar company. He went to his CO (Commanding Officer) to get a jeep to come to see me on Sunday, but he was informed that we had moved on the preceding Friday night. It was a good try that almost worked.
From the Punch Bowl, which we left the end of April 1953, to July 12, 1953, we moved eight times, if my memory is correct. I do not remember all the positions but I do remember the first and last couple quite well.
The second to last position was called the Turk position, as they had occupied it before us. We were told that we were in a hot spot behind the lines at this time. They told us to dig fox holes, which was the first time that order had ever been given. I grabbed a shovel and proceeded to dig a foxhole. I hit rock at about hip deep, measured it, and it seemed that it would be adequate. On Saturday we received incoming rounds. After those incoming rounds landed the rock was not nearly as hard. We never used these holes but it gave us practice for later.
We were supposed to sleep with mosquito nets over our beds, but I did not use mine, as I figured if I had to leave in a hurry, I did not want any mosquito net slowing me up. One night after coming off guard duty, I had been in bed about an hour when I got the shakes. It was somewhere around midnight and I could not stop shaking. I felt cold and put on a blanket. Then I was hot. A fellow soldier saw me shaking when he went on guard duty and he came back an hour later and I was still shaking. He wanted to call a medic but I would not let him, although I probably should have. This lasted two to three hours. Later I talked to a cousin who was a nurse and she said it was probably nerves. In the last letter I sent to my bother Alvin, I told him I did not like what was going on here, and that some thing is going to happen.
We had a rocket battery near our position that had their telephone communications routed through our switch board. After he was relieved of guard duty that night, Sgt. McGriff (Detail Section Sergeant) told me that there was no communication with the rocket battery. He told me to wake up someone to fix it, as this was in my line of duties. I decided to just go myself, and taking a large four or five cell flashlight, I headed to the open field. I had the flashlight on all the time following the wire, but never did find the break in the line. Not until later when I was talking to a guy in prison camp did I figure how stupid this was -- that was exactly how he got captured.
A rocket battery has about 32 to 40 rockets on the rear of the jeep. When they fire their rockets it gives off a large volume of light, and as soon as they fire they haul ass, as it is easy to get a fix on where to return fire.
While I was on the switch board, I always had spare time at night, so I usually wrote letters. I had developed a system that on every third day I wrote to the same people. Not thinking that I had set up a pattern, when the last letter got home and another did not come on the third day it generated concern. The pattern had never entered my mind at the time. Of course, I did not figure on being missing-in-action either.
While assigned to the detail section, and being on the switch board most of the time, we were having trouble with personnel getting things done in the field with wire communications. So I asked to leave the switch board and go and string wire. I was doing these three to four weeks before being overrun. My MIA reports still had me listed as a switch board operator.
Between June 15 and 20, 1953, we were engaged in a fierce battle for Outpost Harry. The Chinese were making a big push at this time. The 3rd Division, along with the 5th RCT was the troops on line there. We started fire missions at about 6 to 7 every evening and fired until daylight. We were told that the battalion, 18 guns in all, fired an average of 400 rounds per gun, per day. You’ve also got to take into consideration that all guns were not in firing order, as some barrels went out. Inoperative cylinders and miscellaneous other things happened to them. We even had one gun on which the sites had to be adjusted a certain amount, to be on target. We had better guns in Basic than we had overseas -- of course the guns used in Basic were not used every day and were not on display. Each day when we come out of our bunker in the morning and looked over the valley, it looked like a heavy fog, from all the burned gun powder.
Listening to the Forward Observers as they came off the hill, they told of many a night where the quad-fifties and other fire arms were out of ammunition or the barrels had become so hot that they should have been replaced, but there was nothing to replace them with. When dawn came, the enemy would pull back. We could have been overrun more than just this time. A local former Marine Captain stopped in the office while I was working and told me that several times they were overrun and found the best thing was to lay low and after a while the Chinese were gone. He also told me of his experiences of landing at Inchon and also being in the Chosin Reservoir battle, fighting in minus 30 degree weather day and night.
Let me say a little about the 105 artillery gun: it has a projectile of about four inches in diameter and comes with the powder in the casing which consisted of seven bags of charges, each one getting smaller or larger, whichever way you want to go. The charge number was given on the fire order and whatever charges you did not need were hung over the casing. When the projectile or shell was put on the casing, it cut the string and the surplus bags of powder were later strung out and burned. The fuses for the shells come in a separate container and are installed on the shell before firing, depending on which type of fuse was needed for the fire missions. We used a lot of VT (variable time) fuses, which were really called vetro terror. They were radio activated, and they exploded within 20 feet of a solid object. They usually exploded above the ground, which resulted in a lot of shrapnel flying around. Soldiers do not like that -- it is worse than rifle fire. Another fuse that was used a lot was one that was activated upon impact.
I recently found out that most of our fire missions were fired with a five charge. The night we were overrun, we started out with charge three and later were down to charge one. We were firing just over the hill in front of us. None of the guns in A, B, or C batteries fired direct fire that night, as was erroneously reported in an article reprinted in a recent issue of Battle Stars magazine. [1]
Lt. Bauer was an FO (Forward Observer) for our battery. An FO is usually up on the line in a forward position to observe what is going on and calls in fire missions to help our troops and to destroy any enemy target that they happen to see. I remember one FO later said that they called a mission on some donkeys and also on some wash on the line. Lt. Bauer went to Outpost Harry along with the 5th RCT infantry. While climbing the mountain a round came and killed him and the infantry commander, along with wounding his Corporal radio man. I really missed Lt. Bauer, as he was my pinochle partner when he was off the hill. He was really a good man. We seemed to grieve for the guys for a day, and then we went on to the next day, as it may be your turn. It seemed that money did not have much value with the outlook on life you had there.
We were on the move so much that our mail was not keeping up with us. Going back for showers and going to the PX were put on hold. On Saturday July 11, 1953, a lot of that caught up with us. I believe two truck loads of men went back for showers and clean clothes. They also went to the PX, and got a beer ration, the first in a long time. Several men received boxes from home, a welcome sight, and the men seemed to be in pretty good spirits, especially after receiving mail from home. If it would only have quit raining so much, which sure made life miserable?
Clyde Robertson and I got to be pretty friends in Basic and also in Korea. We usually went to see each other, either to the guns or him coming to the detail section. Approximately a week before the overrun, at one of our visits he told me he received word that his cousin in the Infantry was reported missing in action. We discussed it and came to the conclusion that he was probably killed. When we finally got to prison camp, there he was. The Chinese had thrown a concussion grenade into his bunker and knocked him out, damaging his ears pretty badly. His cousin’s name was Gephart and he came home with a disposition like most of us did only worse. The fall after getting out of the service Robertson and Gephart drove a car under the rear end of a semi-trailer, killing both.
On Sunday morning, at about 10 AM, Monfort, a guy that I took basic with from Kansas came to see me. He was an FO with the 10th FA (Field Artillery) Battalion, 3rd Division. We had visited for no more than 15 minutes when the order came that we were moving to a new position. This was on July 12, 1953. Thank God, we were to be completely gone by 4 PM, since we always ate our evening meal between 5:00 and 5:15 PM, and on this day four rounds landed where our kitchen tent had been. It appeared that they had an FO somewhere in the area. Also the day before, some rounds landed in A Battery, wounding one or two there. This seemed to be the start of our bad luck.
As a wire crew chief, our duty was to run telephone lines from headquarters to our new position. We had trouble running the lines, working on them from about 10:30 AM till about 10:00 PM we hooked up the wire to our end and someone had stolen our line at the other end. We reported to Lt. Brave (Battery Exec Officer) and he told us to forget the line for that day -- they would use radios that night for fire missions. From what I have heard later on there was little firing of the guns if any at all. This was Sunday night.
Monday, July 13, 1953, we got up the usual time and after breakfast; we proceeded to run a new telephone line in the rain. We were all wet from working in the rain, and we decided to run the new line in the stream, hoping that no one would steal this one. When we had completed this job it was about 3:00 PM and we went to our tent and put on dry clothes. I remember putting on a clean pair of socks that had a couple of small holes in them. These holes ended up awful big by the end of our march north -- in fact, the toes and heels were all gone and in reality the socks had basically rotted off our feet.
We sat around the rest of the afternoon as I had guard duty that night. I went on at 8:00 PM and was relieved at 9:00 PM. My duty station was near the tent that we slept in and I paused once while walking by to talk with Lt. Rood, Officer of the Day and a 90 day wonder (ROTC). He was telling someone else that the best fighting soldiers in Korea were the ROK (Republic of Korea) soldiers. I’ll probably have more to say of the ROKs as we go along. This 90 day wonder from Oklahoma had gotten there about two weeks before that, and had just a few hours to live as he was killed by the Chinese the next afternoon along with about eight or nine other good soldiers.
At 9:00 PM when I was relieved of duty, four white prosperous rounds hit us as if to mark us. As in welding, if a burning element hits you it will burn right through your body. The only way to stop it from burning is to stop the air to it with mud or something of that nature.
The first thing I did when the rounds hit was to go to my tent and take a raincoat, a shovel and some ammunition for my carbine that I had cleaned before going on guard duty. With this in hand, I headed for the open field and dug a fox hole, as it was the Detail Section’s duty to form a perimeter of defense for the artillery guns. At this spot I had managed to dig a foxhole by 11:00 PM that I could barely see out of, because of heavy incoming rounds, some of them very close. There was a 30 caliber machine gun located to the east of me and also a fox hole to the west of me. I do not know who was in either position.
To me, our battery position was very badly sited, as the guns were sitting on the forward slope of a hill where all incoming rounds seemed to have a direct line of fire on us. There was a small road that went in front of the guns heading west and as it went by us it headed southwest and then northwest up to the main line. This road was between the guns and my foxhole. There also was a small stream that hugged a large straight mountain to the northwest of our guns and right below that were a squad tent and a kitchen tent, and also our kitchen trailer which kept extra food, mostly C rations, I think. That night the radio jeep was also next to this mountain. This stream was the same one through which I had run our telephone line to headquarters. Having been to HQ, I should remember where it was but I do not. I also do not remember where A or B battery were. I believe FDC (fire direction center) was to the west of the guns and to the north of the road.
Each gun section had a squad tent behind each gun (south of the guns), where each gun Section Chief was in charge of his gun. The No. 1 and No. 2 guns were manned by South Korean soldiers, most of whom had been doing this since the start of the war. They told our gun crews that the fighting was worse now, and that we were firing more rounds now, late in the war (whoops, Police Action). Our ammunition dump was to the southwest of the guns where a small supply of ammunition was held, but not enough for a major fire mission. Usually when a big fire mission started, our trucks started hauling more. Also Ordinance from the rear hauled ammunition.
At midnight, a self-propelled 105 mm artillery unit, the 92 FABn, left their positions and come through our area with their headlights on. You could hear the men on the gun sections hollering to turn the lights off but to no avail; they just kept on going. After they went through, it seemed that no incoming rounds landed out of our area. It came in very heavy and hard the rest of the night. I believe they lost one gun in their fight with the enemy. Don Wakehouse still has nightmares about the 92nd FA going through us with their headlights on.
At about midnight, Mother Nature came a calling -- I got out of the fox hole, and got my pants about half down when the whistle of incoming rounds changed Mother Nature’s mind. I believe this happened two more times with the same results. I finally dug a hole in the side of the foxhole. This was the last time for six days, and then after that you could not stop, even though I had the runs. (Two of the guys who were captured could not go, so after 11 days the Chinese gave them some Epsom salts, and results were obtained.)
All this time rounds kept coming in. I remember one landing on the edge of my foxhole. Another volley of four rounds marched toward my hole, starting a little to the northwest, and each one getting closer. The last one landed very near the edge of my hole, and I had dirt splattered on me more than once.
About 1:30 AM, Sgt. McGriff jumped into my hole, and told me he had to check on the machine gun to the east. While he was there he told me if anything happened to him that I was to take over command of the defense perimeter. Why me? I was just a PFC (Private First Class) and there were some Sergeants around. He had just left me when a round came in. He could not have been more than five to ten feet away. My first thought was that he had cashed it in, but than he jumped back in with me and said “whew,” that was close. We laughed about this but were both scared.
During the night we continually had foot soldiers heading south through our position. I believed them to be ROK soldiers, because you could see they had the little towel and tooth brush with them that they usually carried. It seemed they had left their positions on the MLR (main line of resistance) and left us holding the bag. The ones that came through after 1:00 AM kept saying, “don’t shoot GI” It was so dark that you could see hardly at all, but went by the sound. After talking with others later, we come to the idea that these latter troops were the Chinese. They walked right through us and we did not even know it. Reports were that the line was moved south about 2000 yards -- and eventually the Chinese line was some distance behind our last gun position. We were not far from Kumsong so it was called the Kumsong Salient (salient meaning breakthrough). Our last position is now in North Korea. I always wondered if any of the bodies were ever recovered to be sent home. As of this time the bodies have not been returned and the DOD says it will be several years before they enter that position.
Sometime between 1:00 and 2:00 AM, I received word that Lt. Brave wanted to see me. After running between volleys of incoming, I finally got to Lt. Brave. The telephone lines had been knocked out and he said that there was no use in going out to fix them. I now believe he had a better handle on what was going on than I did, as at this point being captured never entered my mind. I just knew that we were getting the Hell shelled out of us and when daylight came we would be all right, as usually was the case on big firing missions.
Somehow word got to me about 2:00 to 3:00 AM to leave my position and go to the area of the mess tent where the radio jeep was. Upon getting there it seemed to be mass confusion. Sgt. Norman (First Sergeant) had just returned from headquarters where he had taken some wounded. The orders that he brought back were “Stay at all costs, form a new line”. Our communications were all out at this time, and every one was just standing around, seeming to be waiting for someone to take charge, of which no one did. I finally made an attempt to get the radio working, but to no avail. I guess it was a little while after that we went into “look out for yourself” mode. I really don’t remember any direct order to abandon position.
After years of trying to find all that had gone on during the battle and afterwards, I finally met two great guys. One is Hugh Wubben, a retired History Professor from Corvallis OR. He is writing some history on what went on in our battery. He’s got himself quite a job, but we have compared a lot of notes. The other fellow is John Balek, the former Battery Clerk of B Battery from Joliot, IL. Both made it out in the overrun.
Quoting from an article John wrote about this time, “I heard from another headquarters battery that before we were being surrounded, we could have been given the word to pull back, but a General O’Meara wanted us to fight to the last man. Finally, but too late, he was overruled. When we got the word, it was too late.” General O’Meara later was on the Joint Chief of Staffs in Washington, DC when talking to Lt. Brave in the fall of 1995, he had said that the IXth Corps had written us off about 2:00 AM. Further quoting from Balek’s articles “in November or December, 1953, the 555th received the Korean Presidential unit citation. Syngman Rhee (South Korea President) was supposed to deliver it in person, but his foreign minister Soong did it instead. General Maxwell Taylor (then General of the forces in Korea) gave a speech in which he said, among other things, we didn’t deserve the citation.” This is the same General Taylor that greeted each POW as they got off the truck, saying that he was glad to have us back.
Recently I obtained the name of a fellow that was interested in the Kumsong Salient and here is a quote from his letter, “The statistics from Truce Tent and Fighting Front, the official history of the last two years of the Korean War, is awesome. From June 10 to the end of it on July 27 the Chinese had 110,458 casualties and the United Nations Command total was 52,890. It is estimated that 90% or better of the casualties on both sides occurred in the Salient! Casualty-wise it was almost as big as the Battle of the Bulge in World War II.”
The artillery men, when they received a fire mission order, usually left their bunks and put some shoes and clothes on, recognizing that usually after the mission was over they returned back to bed. They also usually had a split crew so that only half the men were on the guns at a time, while the other half got some night sleep. On this night they did not expect any heavy fire until after midnight but it come at about 9:00 PM and never let up, so whatever clothes they had on were what they got captured with. Some had just received new boots, and put them on with no socks -- we saw some pretty blistery feet on the march. The artillery crew usually consisted of about 10 men, each one having their duties and some duplicated positions to fill for the split crews. They also left their rifles by their bunks so when we departed the area very few of the gun crew men had any fire arms. Maybe they were lucky, in that that might have saved a few more from getting killed.
In trying to get away, several of us headed up the mountain to the south between the guns and the ammunition dump. Somewhere around this time I attached my bayonet to my carbine, and then noticed that it had been tampered with, as the handle had some slack put in it. Therefore it did not stay on the rifle so it was lost before going too far. This was a new bayonet about a month old, so I figure we must have had a little sabotage going on in our outfit. I do not remember how many of us headed up the mountain, but we seemed to go our own way a little at a time. Somewhere in there as I was going up this mountain, I slipped, slid a little way back down and landed on a rock, cutting my left knee. It was about an inch and a half cut, and pretty deep and it did heal up on its own as we tried to save what medical stuff we had for maybe worse conditions. Somewhere around this time we began to hear the sounds of the Chinese bugles -- it seemed that three of them communicated and you were in the middle of the triangle. You never did see them but they sure made some chills run up and down your back. I still can hear them.
We got to the top of the mountain that I’d describe as a finger and we were on the eastern end. Sgt. McGriff and the 90 day wonder Louie were there, along with about ten other men. I do not remember too many of them, but I believe Ralph Thrush from Pennsylvania was one of them. I remember a few faces but not the names. The 90 day wonder began talking about things that we should be doing and he did not impress me at all. Seeing Lt. Brave along with a few other fellows a little to the west of me, I crept away and went over to the other guys along the elbow of this ridge. At this time there were eight of us and we would all get captured together.
About 5:30 to 6:00 AM, Lt. Brave got a call from Lt. Conboy from below us saying that his group was surrounded. Lt. Brave said that we will hold them off from our side so that maybe they could make it out, and they did. Of the eight of us, only four had rifles and very little ammunition, so I started firing. I fired six rounds when my carbine jammed. It was at this small break that some other eyes were on the surrounding area and when we looked to the higher ground to our rear, the Chinese troops were lined up shoulder to shoulder and dug into trenches that seemed to have considerable depth to them. Upon seeing this I moved a little to the south and hid behind a small rock (it seemed too small to me anyway). A Chinese soldier came down to us with his arms up motioning to raise our hands and surrender. I continued to lay behind the rock with my carbine centered on his guts. He was about six feet from me, when I heard yelling saying “don’t shoot, don’t shoot”. The slack was pulled out of the trigger and it would not have taken much to have fired. But luckily I did not, for if I had they would have killed us all immediately.
It was at this time that we had given up our “Freedom.” We no longer had any control of what we did but had to do as we were told. It seems funny how that rifle and bayonet along with burp guns could speak such plain English. They got their point across very well -- no arguments. I believe with my being captured that I was Howard County’s third Korean causality. I found later that I was the fourth.
Right after being captured, we were searched and they took anything that could be used against them. They then moved us closer to their position with a guard standing over us. It may seem odd, but after being captured we were so tired that we went to sleep until the rain awoke us. We were awakened to the noise of our own rounds coming in on us. The first to get wounded was a Corporal from the motor pool. The Sergeant from the motor pool said to give him a morphine shot, as it looked like one side of his face was blown off after he had wiped it with his hand. The medic that was with us had his medical bag along with him and his comment was “that’s not my job anymore, it’s theirs” as he looked up at the Chinks.
We started digging fox holes with bare hands and steel helmets. Our hands got to looking like hamburger meat in a little while as the ground was about half rocks. During this process, we had to hit the ground several times because of incoming rounds. At one time we lay with our faces to the ground and were lying shoulder to shoulder. When the guy next to me was hit with shrapnel, I moved again. Another guy moved into the spot that I had just vacated and he was hit. I believe three guys were hit but I did not get any shrapnel wounds. His wounds consisted of a cheek wound, shrapnel in the left rear shoulder, shrapnel to the upper part of the leg that went into bone, and a broken kneecap. He walked all the way with us, and ended up with a permanent limp and shrapnel in the arch of his foot. He had a hard time walking -- in fact the Chinese took him away to help him for awhile. He was later returned five days after the war was over, and told us of the cease fire.
The Chinese guard was also hit. He tied a white cloth around his head and kept on standing guard. Lt. Brave told me of the radio that they had told a man to use. An incoming round hit his position and killed him. Another man entered into the hole and another round came in and decapitated him. They moved him out and another relieved him. I believe he also was killed. At least some of our incoming was doing some good
About 10:00 AM, we began our walk north. As we walked past our old gun position, it appeared that there were dead lying in quite a big area. The kitchen truck had a 50 caliber machine gun over the cab of the truck and a man was laying over it, dead. I heard later that this was Cpl. Hall. I guess he uttered some expletives in trying to get the machine gun to work, but he lost. Dwain Swartz, a fine soldier that I took basic with and was on gun six, was seen lying to the southwest toward the ammo dump. He lay in his white tee shirt, dead. He paid with his life; he was a good soldier. One of our Korean crew chiefs had his head blown off. I did not see him but was told of it later, and this was also confirmed by Wubben. Thrush asked me if I had seen the guy lying on the ground with a hole in him so large that you could see the ground through him. I guess it depended on exactly which route they took us on, as I did not remember seeing him.
By talking with the guys that were captured that saw guys killed and adding later information, I estimate we had about 25 good men killed that day, along with 40 captured. I never did hear how many were wounded.
Walking further North we passed an American soldier that was in bad shape. As we went by he weakly said “Help me, help me.” It was hard to keep going but the enemy made it very clear that we were going on. The wounded man had a very yellow look to him as he leaned on his left elbow -- I’m sure he did not last too long. I believe that if the path we walked had not been cleared, that we could not have walked without stepping on the dead. Also in this area, which was the old MLR, the Chinese dead were lying around -- they seemed to be in bunches and very close together. The one dead that made me stop was a Chinese soldier with his head blown off. It laid a few feet away -- a site that I will never forget. We also walked past a dead soldier that had been there for some time and had started to decompose -- a very nasty smell. While walking this area, the water that ran off was red with blood.
When we walked through our abandoned position, a Chinese soldier had helped himself to our recently received rations and boxes from home. He was sitting on a rock eating a can of Van Camps pork and beans and drinking a bottle of Japanese Asahi beer that came in quart bottles.
The soldiers that were with McGriff and the 90 day wonder tried to make a break for it through the enemy lines about 4:00 PM that afternoon. One soldier that had arrived about three weeks before in Korea stood up and threw his rifle away. The enemy zipped him. Also at about this time the Chinese started up the hill to flush the guys out. They shot at anything. One guy made it to the bottom of the hill and gave himself up. They left him unguarded. Ralph Thrush was with the group that I first joined and left. He had seen McGriff and the rest get killed. He and another wounded soldier hid halfway down the hill overnight, holding on to a tree all night. At daylight they decided they had to do something so they went to the bottom of the hill and surrendered.
Lt. Hopper, our battery commander, and Heflin, our Battery clerk, were killed, both with burp gun fire and both died instantly. Heflin and Balek from B Battery took basic together. Don Wakehouse originally from Pisgah, IA, was wounded in the left wrist area and right leg in the knee area. He hid under some brush for two days, lost a lot blood, and passed out a few times. The Air Force came in and bombed the area. They destroyed the guns, blowing one over the road, and also blew up the ammunition dump. Don said he never heard such a loud explosion as when the dump was hit. After two days he said that he knew that he would need help so he surrendered. He spent his first night in a MASH-like medical place in a cave, where he was operated on. He ended up in the same prison camp that I did but he had it a lot rougher. He contracted a bone disease while there and when he was released, he was sent to a hospital in Japan for about six months. He was the last Korean prisoner of war to return to the United States. His left wrist was operated on and is pretty much normal. His right leg is locked at the knee and he wears a brace. He says after all these years of favoring the right leg the left one is now bothering him. But he made it, and it took him several years to beat the bone disease, but he did. He now lives in the Denver area, retired, and is presently active in the American Ex Prisoners of War Association. He recently moved to Show Low, AZ. He was in such poor condition when he was repatriated that they did not let his wife know for a couple of days that he was free.
We stopped about noon for a break and the Chinese were burying their dead in one mass grave, just throwing them in a large hole. We were given our first Chinese food: it was about the size of a plug of chewing tobacco, hard as a rock, and I believe it was their form of C ration. Somewhere around this area, we came upon one of our ¾ ton trucks. It was about 20 feet away before we saw it -- they were masters at camouflage. The first night was spent in a hole with rats running around your head and knocking dirt on your face. It was like a hole dug into the side of the mountain, but I guess no worse than the rest of the night shelters we had on the march. We were all very depressed as it was starting to settle in what had happened to us.
In the first two days after capture more troops kept joining us, mostly from C Battery. We ended up with 41 of us in this group that were kept together.
Our next to last position was an Artillery position manned by all Koreans. This also was overrun and the officers marched along with us, either to the rear or sometimes in front. They caught up with us the first night we slept with the rats, which just lay on top of us and made themselves comfortable.
In the first 7 to 10 days, it seemed that no one was as concerned with himself as he was about the Missing in Action Report that would be going to their homes, with each of us imagining in their mind what the reactions would be. There was nothing we could do about that -- we knew how we were but could not tell anyone at home. After this time everyone got to thinking of being here for a long haul, preparing themselves for the worst, or whatever might happen to them, depending a lot on the disposition of the enemy troops and how they felt about you.
Most of us had our steel helmets on, and some of us, I included, had shrapnel vests. It seemed that each place we stopped for a break a little of our unnecessary gear was left behind. I used my steel helmet for a mess gear to hold the rice or millet that we were getting. It was very greasy so after about two meals we left it lay on the ground. Some of us kept our helmet liners, which were much lighter, and we used them to drink from. About the only water we got when walking was river water. Most of the streams were about waist to arm pit deep and you could see the bottoms which were lined with rock. While crossing, someone would take the liner and fill it with water, take a drink and pass the water back. Every one took a drink, and pretty soon the liner came back. This took care of you till the next time you were thirsty.
The food menu consisted of rice, millet, dried fish heads, and some other things that weren’t too appetizing. The rice and millet was cooked and eaten just out of the kettle -- no flavoring of any kind. We complained of this once and they gave us some crushed rock salt, like the city puts on the streets. When we got to the bigger camp we got some cooked vegetables with rice, steamed bread that was heavy like a rock, something that we called elephant ears and also some stringy stuff that we called gristle. Rice was a delicacy, after having millet. Millet is bird food but it was still better then nothing, as was the case in WWII. We got fed only twice a day and on one long march we carried some rice along on our shoulders, rotating it with a few men. We marched on several smaller trips going from one spot to another, but on the longest one we started about 4:00 PM and walked until about 6:00 AM. On this march the water was not available so we got pretty thirsty. About 3:00 to 4:00 AM we heard some water running so we took the helmet liner to get some water. This was some nasty stuff, and one could taste the human waste as this was water running on a rice field.
I do not remember all the places in which we stayed -- most were about the same. We usually kept our clothes and boots on as you never knew when we were to be moved. One night I took my boots off and used them as a pillow, and very early in the morning we were aroused to move, and I could not find my boots. The prospect of having to have to walk on the stony roads bare-footed really scared me. I did finally find them, but I was the last one to leave the hole.
We were kept in the high mountains a few days and it was cold there. They gave us the winter coats the Chinese wore, and I found one that fitted me. The cover we slept under leaked water and the ground was wet. Don Maxwell, from Pennsylvania, and I spent most of our time together. When you slept it was shoulder to shoulder, or in whatever way that you could get warm with the coats laid over your shoulders and hips. About the time you were about to go to sleep, the body lice started to move, either between your toes with your boots on, or up the small of your back going just about anywhere that you could not reach them. They were a constant companion. In the morning we would find them in the seam of our clothes and try and get rid of them; we got a few.
The places that we stayed had a raised area to the sides that was made of about two inch sticks, tied together. Don and I slept on the wet ground. Before laying down we got some pines off the trees to put on the ground; it helped a little but not much. When we got up in the morning, along the paths were several piles of human waste. This was a common occurrence, as they used that as their fertilizer. While in the high mountains, I witnessed something that I did not think I would ever see in my life: across the valley, between the rocks, a Korean civilian was plowing the ground with a stick in the ground pulled by oxen.
One day we crossed a stream that was only about knee deep. We were about half way across when we noticed an enemy artillery piece set in the middle of the river, painted the same color as the water. They also had their small arms ammunition in square metal containers stored along the bank of the river. They had some other ammunition there but not in large quantities. The Chinese army also had 31 caliber and a 51 caliber machine guns. We used 30 caliber and a 50 caliber guns, and therefore they could use our ammunition in their machine guns but we could not use theirs.
I read an article that said the Chinese soldier went to the front with either three or five days supply of food and ammunition; after that was gone he had to live off the land or the enemy. On these day marches we met small horses carrying ammo and supplies to the front. One night we met Chinese troops moving south, laughing it up and having a party. I believe they were on something as there was a funny smell in the air. Whenever we met a truck, they speeded up as they did not want us trying to escape. They also had a trench on each side of the valley for troop movement. The interpreter told us that they could move on us anytime that they wanted, as they knew when our harassing fire missions were coming, so they would hole up. A lot of the time that was about all the fire missions were, and they seemed to be timed for the same time every night.
When we were first captured the Chinese soldiers all carried AK-47 burp guns and they seemed to know how to shoot them; Hopper and Heflin had been shot between the eyes. The further back we went, the more they seemed to carry rifles that were Japanese with a three sided bayonet that was quite long. I believe some were left-overs from WWII, and they got your respect.
Some days when on marches we carried branches and whenever our plane flew over us we would stop and set ourselves along the path to look like brushes. Also one day the planes had a target over the mountain from us. We also saw a lot of damage that the planes had done -- some bridges knocked out -- but it seemed as though most of the holes were away from what looked to be the target.
I remember one day as we walked through a village a truck hit a dog and before it was through kicking, the civilians were fighting for it. Thrush asked me if I remember walking through the mine field. I guess we did but I do not remember it. It seems funny how we each remember different things.
The terrain was very steep mountains and the further north we walked the steeper they became. It seemed that we walked more vertically then than on a straight plane. We had no way of telling what direction we going but I always watched the sun to get a sense of the direction in which we were headed. Sometimes we did not head in a northerly direction, but most of the time it was either north or northwest.
Somewhere along the march we were interrogated by an interpreter. My interview lasted for about two hours. They wanted to know why we needed six officers in our Battery. We told them we had a Battery Commander and an Executive officer, and they knew that. They kept wanting to know what the other four officers duties were and I was not about to tell that most of them were Forward Observers at sometime or other. Their questioning always tried to keep you off guard. One question was on the local situation and the next pertained to something here in the United States -- they always kept jumping around. One questioner wanted to know what my folks did and how much money they made. I avoided that one. Sgt. Fischer from Wisconsin got them mad, which did not take too much to do. They pulled out a map of our last area and had the location of each squad tent, the Sergeant in charge and the number of men assigned to each tent. The interpreter and his wife were going to college in San Francisco as late as l951, and he was along with us for a long time. At some of the stops he told us how good Communism was and all of its advantages as far as he was concerned. They did not appeal to me a bit.
Our Chief of Firing Battery, Sgt. Cook and Sgt. Sherrill, in charge of gun section No 6, got into an argument and Sgt. Cook tried to have Sgt. Sherrill shot if he did not do as Cook told him. This did not go over with the rest of us. I believe most of us thought more of Sherrill then Cook anyway. Cook retired from the military. I do not know what happened to Sherrill who was from Louisiana.
On our final day before reaching camp we rode in a truck. This took most of the day. There was a Chinese officer riding in our truck and he sat pretty glum the whole trip. We ended up in what the Chinese called Camp Six. Some called it Death Valley and also the Mining Camp. It was along a stream that was white from some mining up the valley. They had a hospital of a sort there. The reason it was called Death Valley was that on Christmas Eve of 1950, something like 10 or 12 soldiers died that night. In talking with others they said that was a conservative figure. Some of the guys went to see Don Wakehouse who was in pretty bad shape at this point. He had infection oozing out of his leg and was in a lot of pain. One of our roommates named Quinn was assigned to a detail that was needed to dig some dirt for an oven in the kitchen. After digging up two bodies they cancelled the detail and did it another day. Quinn was our Battery night baker. He really could bake some good stuff, and he always had on coffee and rolls for anyone that stopped at night. He also happened to be gay. He was from New York and died several years ago. He was a big man but slimmed to a nice figure on that diet.
The barracks we were put in were made of thin walls with a dirt floor, with a space under it for burning branches that could be put under there in winter for heating the rooms. There were seven of us to a room -- not a lot of space, but we were not laying on each other. We were given a mat and a blanket. After being here for a week or so we got a haircut and a shave. They really felt good. They also marched us about two to three miles away on a hot day to take a swim in the river above the area where the white discharge came in from the mine -- the first attempt to see that we were clean. We do not know how we smelled, but there was never a word said about it. I guess we all smelled the same. Our GI clothing was taken and we were given blue clothes that looked like pajamas along with a pair of canvas shoes of which you could not tell right from left.
We were divided into three squads for whatever reason I do not remember. Lt. Brave was kept along with us but separate so that he could not talk to us. The buildings were laid parallel to a road that went in front of us. There were no fences holding us -- just guards on the high ground around us. The marines that were captured in March were in the First platoon, my group in the Second platoon, and the balance of the men in the Third platoon -- about 75 to 80 men in total. They had a kitchen there where the food was prepared. I will say that the food was better here than while we were walking. They cooked some tea for us twice a day, as the water from the open pit wells was not safe to drink. The men that thought they had to drink it left camp with boils on their bodies, some as many as seven to eight, and as big around as a grapefruit or bigger. They also had a library there, all filled up with Communist propaganda, with the red star on some books. We were encouraged to read this material but I read none of it. Ruben Fischer had a Catholic new testament along so I read that instead. I always carried one while overseas, but the day before when we got out of our wet clothes I left it by my bunk.
They also had a hospital at this camp that got strafed by our planes earlier in the war and killed several of the wounded. We had a sick call here -- it mostly consisted of problems for those who had the runs or could not go. They gave either a black or white pill. I do not remember which way anymore, but you took one if constipated followed by the other one, and if you had the runs it was the opposite way. I lucked out and never went on sick call. One X-POW told me in his two years in camp that he never had a solid stool, which was normal.
They did not want to have you store away any food for a possible escape, so if any leftovers were available, you would take it back to the kitchen. One day we had one steamed bun so instead of taking it back we threw if out the back of the building into some tall weeds. It made a noise it as it landed. The guards heard it and were running around like crazy for a while. We had to have some entertainment and got quite a kick out of watching them being so riled up. While we were here a big pig was out back, and any left over food was given to him. One hot day before we left they butchered the hog and we got our portion that evening -- about as big a piece as what is in a can of pork and beans.
Along the march the smokers were given no tobacco or supplies to smoke, so they would smoke anything that they could find, paper, straw or anything. Their throats were so sore that they could hardly talk. I never smoked so this was not a problem for me. When we got to camp we were given a package of tobacco once a week that consisted of a little tobacco, wood carvings, dirt and a few other things, but it was better than nothing. We were also given a porcelain drinking cup. It reminded me of the one I had in the country grade school. We were also given one cup of sugar to use as we wished, and at that time I used it in my tea. The tea that they gave us twice a day did not have much strength -- mostly colored water but it was boiled. We usually got a pan of tea that had about ten cups. I learned to drink it quite hot so that I could get maybe a little more.
A colored soldier from South Carolina, Hugh McClary was watching the civilians walking by camp one day and the Chinese brass said that he was making a pass at one of the girls, so they made him stand at attention for 30 minutes for that. In the first part of the war until the end of 1951, it was the North Koreans that guarded the prisons. After that the Chinese guarded the prisoners. The saying was that if you did something that they didn’t like the Korean’s would beat you once for each crime. If you were being punished by the Chinese, they punished you for that crime, along with repunishing for one again with each subsequent crime. I would like to get in touch with McClary as he was one fine man.
The civilians that walked past the camp have a dirty look to them, like a good scrubbing would do a lot of good. Several small children were seen walking and they had a stomach on them that you would think was fat but you could count their ribs from the malnutrition. The women that walked by usually had a short blouse on that did not entirely cover their breasts, leaving the bottom portion exposed below the blouse. A lot of the women had an infant tied to their back or on the side being breast fed as they walked. The men usually had a long beard and carried their loads on an A frame on their back. Sometimes they had such a large load that all you could see was their feet.
Shortly before we got to camp the Marines cleaned an area across the stream for sports, mostly for basketball and they had what they called their Olympics. The ground was not quite level -- it had a few rocks protruding up from the ground, but it was not bad. The first week there the Marines wanted to play the Army boys in a game. Thrush, Annunziata and myself played but none of us can remember who the other two were as we were all in the same room. Quinn and Maxwell were also in our room. We played 15 minute quarters and we led by about four points most the way, and beat those 32-28. The day before leaving camp they wanted to play again. There was a discussion about how long the length of the quarters was to be. They settled on 20 minutes, and they said that they will wear that big SOB out, meaning me. I guess I shoved a little hard under the basket. We trailed the first three quarters by about four points. By the fourth quarter they were starting to get tired, but we were in good shape as we had just finished walking. Anyway we beat them by four points and they were pretty poor losers. We offered to split the winnings: a carton of cigarettes and a pound of candy, but they refused and walked away in a bad mood. They had a Marine from Michigan with a Polish name that was very athletic, but his friendliness was something else -- maybe that was because he was a Marine. I figured on bringing two packs of these cigarettes home as souvenirs to give to Alvin, but after I was released they were thrown away.
That evening we were given a bottle of wine, approximately a 12 ounce size, one to a room. We divided it seven ways and believe it or not, we got to feeling pretty good. A couple of Frenchmen that worked in the kitchen got so loose that they urinated over the concrete wall that separated the levels of the buildings.
The second basketball game, eating the pork and the wine were all part of our farewell upon leaving this camp. They had told us that we were leaving the next day for a prison exchange and we were a very happy group of soldiers.
The next day we loaded on trucks, about 15 to 20 on each, and headed to Kaesong, a holding area, until our names were called to be released to United States control. We really didn’t do much but wait. The National Red Cross was there and handed out cigarettes and a few miscellaneous things, but we were told they could not say anything to our lines. They had a piano accordion there. I had taken a few lessons and knew a couple tunes, played my two tunes, got requests to play a different one that I did not know, put the accordion down and left.
A small stream was close by so I cleaned up there. Some of the others pulled their pants down and they had an eye tattooed on each cheek. Some also had a black widow spider tattooed under their left arm on the rib cage. The Chinese thought this was an escape signal and said that they were trouble makers and kept most of them separate. There also were some of our troops to the east of this camp; reputed to be the big trouble makers as far the Chinese were concerned. Most of them came out after I did. I stayed at Kaesong for two days. On the second day we were told to move to another building. The morning of the third day we loaded on trucks for the ride to “Freedom.”
On the way to Panmunjum we met several truckloads of Korean and Chinese on trucks heading north. A lot of them tore their clothes and boots off and threw them along the road. It did not set to well with us; in fact it made us mad to see that respect for the good old USA.
On August 25 1953, at about 9:00 AM we neared Freedom Bridge. The first MP that we saw was a beautiful sight: those clean pressed fatigues, polished helmet and that sharp stature that he held. Also seeing the US flag again, Oh, what a Beautiful site; it looked grand. We drove up in front of the tents, were greeted by Gen. Taylor, went inside where we were offered religious services, sat at tables and were waited on by Sergeants First Class and Master Sergeants. They treated us great and oh, how great it was to be there; it felt like a big weight had been lifted off your shoulders. That is about as good as I can explain it. If you have not been there you do not quite know the feeling of the entire experience.
I spent six weeks or 42 days in an enemy prison camp, the longest six weeks of my life, just like the night of the battle that led to my capture had been the longest night in my life; they will never be forgotten. These memories have been with me all these years and I will take them to my grave. There is hardly a day in life that an incident happens, either said or seen, that does not remind you of your experiences.
After the relaxation with our own troops, we were marshaled into an area where we stripped to our bare skin. I did keep my billfold, dog tags, wrist watch and a fountain pen. The two packs of cigarettes that I had figured on taking home were discarded over a fence. We were deloused, finally got rid of the body lice, and took a shower. They gave us a bath robe and a real quick physical, and by about 11:00 AM we were in a large squad tent with bunks that had the longer legs so your feet barely touched the floor. While here and shortly after arriving, the medics came and put a mask over a soldiers face, someone that been on the same ship going overseas with us. They took him away, and we never did see him again. There was a Red Cross hospital ship (I believe the USS Hope) in Inchon harbor. Our first meal in Freedom consisted of roast beef with mashed potatoes, and I believe green beans. It really tasted good. After lunch we were fitted with two sets of fatigues and two set of dress khakis and a pair of dress shoes. This was all we got until we reported back for duty after leave.
About 3:00 PM we were loaded on helicopters and flown to Inchon, where we were put in barracks with troops that had come out the preceding three days. At about 5:00 PM the other POWs were sent for supper. Like a fool I went along, had a meal and went again with our guys. We also went to a PX and I bought a wrist watch there that I used for about 20 years. While there the American Red Cross took a picture of us that was sent home. A telegram also was sent. The wording was given to you; all you did was pick out lines to make up your message. I still have all the telegrams that were sent home. That evening the first troops were boarded on the USS Pope, a troop ship, and the rest of us boarded the next morning. Sometime before noon we were on our way home.
While aboard the ship we were given a very thorough physical, and a very intense debriefing. I did not have much information to give them that was of importance. It was at this time that I submitted two names of individuals that I did not think were fair to our own troops. I have talked to some others over the last few years that also remember the fellows that they were with, and did the same thing. We also made arrangements for transportation for our trip home.
We arrived under the Golden Gate Bridge about 10:00 PM on a Tuesday and dropped anchor in the bay in the fog. One could hardly see the bridge above us except for the lights. At about 9:00 AM our ship anchored and the names were called off of those who had a relative there to meet them. After getting off the ship we were bused to Fort Mason near San Francisco, processed some more, and picked up our transportation tickets for home. While we were there, we got to make a phone call home, courtesy of the American Red Cross. We had a little time in the afternoon so a few of us got together and had a beer in a service club. I believe the drink really did not make feel one way or the other. At about 6:00 PM, we were bused to the airport in Oakland, California, where I boarded a plane that took me home, with a stopover in Denver. I had about a four-hour layover there and boarded another airplane for Grand Island, NE.
When I came home and talked to a reporter, I mentioned that the Red Cross treated us well. I may add here that several years later Dad told me the bill was sent to the local Red Cross, and the way he said it I am pretty sure that they also asked to be reimbursed. My opinion of the Red Cross has deteriorated very much since then on account of this.
We landed about 10:00 AM and Alvin met me. It sure was good to see him. We arrived home by noon and I got to greet Mom and Dad. This was on a Thursday. I spent the evening with the folks and some neighbors. On Friday evening I was asked to come to the Howard County Fair where I was asked to go in front of the stage. The local paper had run an article that I was in the states and would be arriving home in about two weeks. Well, when I walked out that night you could hear a pin drop. It really left an impression on me -- I still can remember it.
I had intended to spend more time with the folks on my 30 day rehabilitation leave that was given to all home coming POW’s, but when evening came I was awful jittery, and could not sit still. Somehow we, meaning all X-POW’s, had created an attitude that was not good. I really can not put it into words -- we have not found any that will describe the feeling. I am not the only one; every one has had the same problem. The question is, have we really ever been able to relieve our thoughts of those experiences. For most of us, there still is some or a lot of it left. The group of men who were POWs has the highest rate of alcohol abuse, and the highest rate of divorce. Here is where my luck was still with me, as I got a very good wife, along with other things. We all have PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). In WWII, they called it Combat Fatigue. In the evenings when we met together with the friends that were still around Elba and St. Paul, we usually had a beer or two. The first two weeks, I could drink and it had no effect on me. The last two weeks I was home, if I took a part of a beer, I was heaving my guts out. I guess the hard lining wore off in my guts. I really have had stomach problems ever since.
After my 30 day leave, I reported to Camp Carson, CO, exactly one year from the date of induction. I was assigned to the 97th Field Artillery, Battery B. This again was a new outfit just starting up and was composed of men just out of basic training and men returning from overseas. I made Corporal there for being in prison camp. I was assigned to a gun that had an SFC who had been a gun chief in Korea, and they were looking for gunners. Finally I volunteered and was awarded the job. A few months later when he was discharged, and I was given the crew chief’s job. I was the only Corporal in the Battalion to have this job. In February, 1954, I went to a Chief of Firing Battery school in Camp Carson, and out of about 24 men, I was tied for third place -- I did not think that was bad. In March or April, 1954, I was promoted to Sergeant, an E-5 rating. Orders came out that morning and I had Sergeant of the Guard that night.
We were on 155 Howitzers here, bigger guns than in Korea. The 155 had to be jacked up off the wheels before firing, and all the guns had a hand jack except one. This one gun was assigned to a Sergeant that was not trained in Artillery, and in the states your enemy was the clock. Every time this Sergeant took this gun out be fired, we never met the time allowed to set the gun up, and the Battery failed the tests. One day the Captain called me into his office and told me to take this gun with the hydraulic jack out and see how the crew could do. I told him I would rather take my own crew, but he again convinced me that he was right. Anyway we were the first crew to call in orders that we were ready to fire. We had a good crew and I was proud of them. It was while training to give classes in gun maintenance that a Major and my Battery Commander, a Captain, tried to talk me into going to Officers Candidate School. At that time all I wanted was out. Wubben has told me lately that I would not have liked being an officer, so maybe it was for the best.
Our Battalion was chosen to go to Camp McCoy, WI to train National Guardsmen on the Artillery gun. Before leaving, four of us soldiers were chosen to go from Camp McCoy to Camp Ripley to train the Minnesota National Guard for two weeks. While at McCoy, it was a racket for me as all my responsibilities were taken away from me. So after everyone had their chores to do, the Chief of Firing Battery and I went to the NCO club and visited with a beer in our hand.
After spending my two weeks in Ripley, two of us drove to Camp Carson to receive our release from active duty. While there I was assigned to the 40th group. While there, I went to the field with an artillery battalion to fire the 75 mm howitzer. My job was to stay close to the phone linking camp and our position. These howitzers were moved by being disassembled, loaded on mules or horses and taken to their position. I believe this was the last of this kind of outfit, as they no longer have the mules. These units were used a lot in WWII in the jungles and hard to reach places. They were slow but they did their job.
My Military career ended with the following awards: Bronze Star with “V” for valor, Good Conduct Medal, POW Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Korean Service Medal with 2 Battle Stars, United Nations Service Medal and the Korean Presidential Unit Citation. In respect to Howard County, I asked for POW license plate number 49, the number for Howard County.
By Command of General Taylor and Brigadier General T. L. Sherburne:
GO176, Hq Army, 2 April 1954.
Private First Class DENNIS L. PAVLIK, US55277361, United States Army. Private PAVLIK, a member of the artillery battery, distinguished himself by heroism in action against the enemy in the vicinity of Kumsong, Korea. On the night of 13 July 1953, Private PAVLIK’s battery was under an intense enemy counter-battery barrage. Private PAVLIK was performing his duties as Switchboard Operator when vital communication lines to the battalion headquarters were destroyed by incoming rounds. When no available wiremen could be found in the immediate vicinity, Private PAVLIK volunteered to repair the lines. Leaving the comparative safety of his position, he moved to the flat area of the valley, searched for the breaks and repaired them quickly in spite of the enemy rounds falling around him. Several times he ventured into the open to repair the other essential intra-battery lines, risking serious injury or possible death each time. Because of his exceptional work, the battery was able to maintain contact with battalion headquarters and receive the necessary firing data which enabled the unit to deliver devastating fire on the enemy. The heroism exhibited by Private PAVLIK on this occasion reflects great credit on himself and the military service. Entered the Federal service from Nebraska.
I received my release from active service on July 20, 1954. I drove most of the night, and got home about 3:00 AM. I figured on spending about two weeks at home with the folks, but again the feeling of not being able to sit still came upon me, so on Friday, I went to Grand Island to see if there were openings where I had last worked. There was one, so I went to work on Monday. I worked again in the Signal Dept. until the end of 1954, and in January of 1955 I came to Omaha and got a job at the Snell Sash and Door Co. I worked there for four years, and then moved to work with Thornton Construction Co, where I drew house plans, did estimates, and learned a trade in the home construction field. I worked there for 19 years, but the owner’s finances did not look too good, so I left and went to work for Millard Lumber Inc. for 18 years. All this time I basically worked with the manufacturing of wood roof trusses. I also did a lot of engineering for them. On August 31, 1995, I retired from the labor force and do not regret it. I have drawn a pay check for 45 years and probably missed between three and four weeks without a paycheck. I have never drawn an unemployment check.
After I was released from the service I attended Polka dances, which were common around home, and it was in Grand Island, at the Glovera Ball Room that I met Luella Boyce. After two years we were married, on Sept. 1, 1956. That was also a good move. We have three children: Kevin, born March 1, 1960, Scott, born May 3, 1962, and Denise, born December 10, 1968. So far they have presented us with five grand children: Kevin and his wife Gayle have Kurt and Connor, Scott has Mallory, and Denise has Kyle and Michaela. We feel we have been blessed with three great children and are all in good health. Luella and I are in fairly good health. I had a heart by-pass on May 11, 1992 and am feeling pretty good, but also getting older each year. I was sick before the bypass and did not realize it until the operation was over. Bypass recovery is a long one but worth the time. On a recent visit to the heart doctor, he mentioned that with the know-how we have today, I would not have had to have bypass.
Probably some of the most sensitive things to me while in prison camp were what went on at home. As I have said before we knew how we were, but could not tell anyone. Here are some of the things that I was told after arriving home and in years later:
● The depot agent brought the telegram of my MIA out to the folks in the PM. Uncle Ed Svoboda had moved to the parents place to thrash small grain that evening. Uncle Ed told me when he came in for dinner the next day that the atmosphere was very different -- he was finally told that I was missing in action.
● Frank Tuma left Korea the day that I was overrun. Alvin asked him what he thought my chances were. He said knowing what was going on over there; the chances were very slim that I would come home alive. He was not aware of my missing in action till he arrived in Grand Island, NE.
After the release of prisoners had started, I guess the news media announced the names of the men released, along with the local ones that they had no information on. One night at a dance in Elba, word was going around that I had been released from prison camp. Alvin and Junior Barnes thought that was odd that no notice had come to the folks. So finally after midnight they got on the phone and called the War Department to find out my status and they found that there was no word on me yet, just missing in action.
The guys that I had worked with on the railroad said that they heard that I was shot off a telephone pole while working on communications.
The night that I attended the County Fair, a neighbor that had seen a lot of action in Europe got me away from others and asked “what in the hell happened”. I proceeded to tell him, but while I was talking I was shaking like a leaf. I could not stop it, and that went on for many years. He told me once where he had jumped in a hole, got to feeling around on the ground and found a boot with a foot in it, but no leg.
I have been invited to talk before groups in the last few years -- talking to strangers is not too bad but talking to relatives of some one you know well makes me break down. The head shrink says this is good and to keep on talking and let it out. It embarrasses me and I do not feel too proud of myself.
There are three things that an Ex-POW has a good supply of in the house: they are toilet paper, soap and canned foods. Some have added a fourth and that is to have a warm home, and no more freezing. After reviewing myself, we fit into this category.
I have been called a coward to my face for surrendering. This individual said that I took the easy way, so that I would not have to fight anymore. It is these kinds of idiots that make it harder for an ex-prisoner of war to adjust to life. This individual never had a live round of ammunition fired at him in hate. While I was home on my thirty-day leave another individual questioned the life in prison camp and replied “Oh, you did not like it”. I suppose there will always be these kinds of inconsiderate people -- if they only knew what is was like.
Whoever reads this, I hope you enjoy it. There has been a lot of thought put into it, and I’ve tried to put it in some kind of order. I hope that you can follow it. If this was to have been written again there would probably be some other things that I would remember at the time, but I believe this covers all the important things or things that were important to me at this time. The most important message is “Freedom.” It is something that everyone takes for granted unless you have had it taken away, and I feel very fortunate to have Freedom given back to me. Protect and believe in your country, the good old United States of America. It is not perfect, and never will be, but it is still the best place to live in the world. Freedom is something that touches you but you can not touch it. Again, do not take it for granted as a lot of good men have died so that we may have our Freedom.
26 September 2005 55 YEARS LATER
It may be interesting to others what life has been like for an ex-prisoner of war. Like I stated earlier that when we crossed the Bridge of No Return, we figured all our problems were behind us and that is how we felt when we came home.
The most important lesson from this knows the knowledge of Freedom, what every one takes for granted. As life went on the recurrence of the days is prison camp just never went away, it seems that there are so many incidents that occur each day that remind each and every one of us that the days in camp.
The night of July 14-15, 1953, seems to go through my mind every year and the time of everything happening just seems to be a vivid today as that night. The Chinese soldier that came toward us and waving his hands for us to surrender and my moving behind the rock in a defensive position, the slack pulled out of the weapon that I had and a voice of another soldier saying ”don’t shoot, don’t shoot” has gone my mind many, many times. The thought of what would have happened if I had shot; I probably would not be typing this.
There have been many things that I have thought about that happened, like why did I dig my foxhole in the spot that I did, as several rounds landed very close, close enough to be sprayed with exploding earth, the rounds that marched closer with each incoming. The three men wounded beside from our own incoming that had just moved into the last position occupied and I was not wounded. The prison camp that we ended up after four weeks of walking was a small camp with about 70 military personnel, after hearing on the number of personnel that where taken to some other country and never repatriated, made me wonder that we could have also been handled the same way. In fact I found out about 4 years ago as to the location of where we were. It was near Suan, North Korea, some distance southeast from Pyongyang, the capital of North Korea. This was a holding camp for military personnel that were captured earlier in the war and taken north to more permanent camps; there were several of the troops that were buried there. In fact at the last reunion a person told me about a slope where bodies were buried and then a lot of rain that washed the soil off the bodies and the hogs were eating them, not a very good memory.
This entire experience is just like a puzzle, we are always trying to find all the pieces to a puzzle, we find one once in a while but there are always some still missing. Each year that I go the Korean Ex-Prisoners of War, there is always something new that finds its way into the discussion. The wives do not enjoy this kind of talk, some of the same stories year after year, but it does some good for us that were there to see each other and discuss some of the old times.
Our health problems have probably come from the experience but that would be hard to prove one way of the other, that is why we have the presumptive diseases that have occurred while in camp that have helped us in our treatments. We are also at the age where we need a lot of preventive health care, the Veterans Affairs has done a pretty good job of looking out for us, although you can talk to a doctor for 30 minutes and mention that you were a POW and they do not know it as that info is not on the screen.
I have spoken at several schools about my experience and have a good response each time. I had an interview this spring with a student and she had a good list of questions, I asked her during the interview if she knew what Freedom was and her answer was no. I replied that is when you can walk around without a rifle of bayonet in your back, may be a little strong but that is the way it was the first couple of weeks, the big question was, are they going to use it to be rid of us.
The metric system has always been a problem with me but one day when we were walking, I asked a Chinese soldier how much further were we going, his reply in broken English that it was so many meters. Not knowing the metric system, I must have looked pretty dumb and asked how far that was. His reply was .62 of a mile, and I have remembered that part every since.
Yes, the memories are still there but we are very thankful for having been given our FREEDOM back and we enjoy every day even with the memories. I have also noticed that you very seldom hear a POW complain, another sign of enjoying FREEDOM. The big question still in our mind is WHY ME? I am sure all the others that did not make it would liked a way of life that I and all the other EX-POW’S have enjoyed. We will continue to live with it and maybe it has made us a better person, only you know that answer.
Nebraska had 307 casualties during the Korean War, following are those for late June and July 1953:
June 29, 1953 Shane, Larry, Lancaster Co. KIA
June 30, 1953 Roth, Robert, Red Willow Co. KIA
July 9, 1953 Moore, John, Custer Co. Dies of wounds
July 11, 1953 Jetter, Karl, Dodge Co. Died of wounds
July 14, 1953 Pavlik, Dennis, Elba (Howard Co) MIA Prisoner of War
July 14, 1953 Pederson, Richard , Cedar Co. KIA
July 15, 1953 Smith, August, Hamilton Co, KIA
July 15, 1953 Marcuzzo, Salatore Douglas Co. KIA
July 17, 1953 Erickson, Don, Hamilton Co. KIA
In a matter of about three weeks, Nebraska had 10 casualties, which does include the wounded that is not available to me.
These casualties show you of the guilt feelings that we have and again WHY ME? The odds of one to ten are not very good but I believe that the Lord believes that I still have something to do in this life, so far he has done a good job of helping make decisions.
I hope you have enjoyed reading this story and have gained some knowledge of the life of one part of the military.
Thank you.
[1] Battle Stars, the Official Newsletter of the 5th Regimental Combat Team Association, Sept/Oct 2005, Volume XVI, No.5, page 25