p I t t)
HQNC

3 Apr 02

E RRAT UN

to

1KW PUSAN PERIMETER

1KW FIRE BRIGADE, PUSAN PERIMETER

1. Change the distribution PCN to read 19000315000 vice

19000331500.

DISTRIBUTION: PCN 19000315080

19000315080

* U.S. GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE: 2002 491-631/40036
U.S. Marines in the Pusan Perimeter

by Captain John C. Chapin, USMCR (Ret)

he Marines have

landed." How familiar

the phrase, how

extraordinary the circumstances on 2

August 1950. Instead of a beach

saturated with enemy fire, the

scene was a dock in the port of

Pusan in the far southeast corner

of Korea. The landing force was

the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade;

the Situation it would soon face

was one of desperate crisis.

The men arriving on board the

transport ships that day knew they

were going into battle, and their

brigade commander, Brigadier

General Edward A. Craig, had

made his combat standards very

clear in a meeting with his officers

before the ships had sailed from

San Diego: "It has been necessary

for troops now fighting in Korea to

pull back at times, but I am stating

now that no unit of this brigade

will retreat except on orders from

an authority higher than the 1st

Marine Brigade. You will never

receive an order to retreat from

me. All I ask is that you fight as

Marines have always fought."

At sea, no one knew where the

brigade would be committed to

action, and the men knew nothing

ON THE COVER: Moving up to meet

the North Korean forces, Marines pass

through one of the many small, battered South Korean villages. National

Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-Al 148

AT LEFT: Moving to attack: A coiporal leads his automatic-rfle man

through a rice paddy, oblivious to the

dead enemy soldier underfoot. Photo

by David Douglas Duncan

about the forthcoming enemy

except it was called the North

Korean People's Army (NKPA). On

board their ships they had seen the

situation maps which daily showed

the steadily retreating line of

defense, as the enemy drove irresistably farther and farther into

South Korea. The regular physical

fitness drills and weapons target

practice took on an urgent new

sense of purpose for the Marines.

Captain Francis I. "Ike" Fenton,

Jr., then executive officer of

Company B, later recalled:

While on board ship our

training area was limited. It

was an impossibility to get

the whole company together

at one location. Consequently, we used passageways,

boat decks, holds—any space

we could find to lecture to

the men and give them the little information that we had as

to what was happening in

Korea.

We lectured on the characteristics of the T-34 tank and

told the men about the kind

of land mines we might

expect. A lot of time was

spent on blackboard tactics

for the fire team, platoon, and

company. We had the 3.5

rocket launcher, but no one

present had ever fired one.

A variety of old World War II

ships had brought the brigade.

Task Force 53.7 had 10 ships. Two

transports and a light carrier, the

Badoeng Strait (CVE-1 16), trans1

ported the air arm, Marine Aircraft

Group 33 (MAG-33). Two LSDs

(landing ships, dock), two AKAs

(cargo ships, attack), and three

APAs (transports, attack) provided

for the ground units. Pulling up

alongside the dock at Pusan, the

men of the brigade were split into

three main units: the 2d Battalion,

5th Marines, on the George Clymer

(APA-27), known to its passengers

as the "Greasy George"; the 3d

Battalion on the Pickaway (APA222), with the regimental commander of the 5th Marines, Lieutenant

Colonel Raymond L. Murray, on

board; and the 1st Battalion on the

Henrico (APA-45), which came

limping into port last after a series

of mechanical problems (even

though it was known as the

"Happy Hank").

Standing on the pier to meet the

men was a disparate group of people: General Craig; Marines who

had guarded the U.S. Embassy staff

in its perilous journey all the way

from the South Korean capital of

Seoul to refuge in Pusan; some

U.S. Army soldiers; a local band

giving an earnest but painfully

amateurish rendition of The

Marine Coips Hymn; crowds of

curious South Korean on-lookers;

and undoubtedly some North

Korean spies.

Craig was shocked to see the

Marines watching the docking, as

they casually leaned over the rails

of their ships. He had previously

sent an order through Army channels for the brigade to be prepared

to march off the ships, combat

ready, with weapons loaded. His
immediate, sharp inquiry to an

officer on board revealed that his

orders had never been received at

sea. Accordingly, Craig immediately convened an officers' conference on the Clymer. His G-3,

Lieutenant Colonel Joseph L.

Stewart, announced that the

brigade would move out at 0600

the following morning. This meant

the men would spend the whole

night unloading the ships and issuing full supplies of ammunition

and rations, so that the brigade

could move out on time. After

making clear that he did not yet

know where the brigade would be

sent by Lieutenant General Walton

H. Walker, the commanding officer

of the U.S. Eighth Army in Korea,

2

Craig concluded: "The Pusan

perimeter is like a weakened dike

and we will be used to plug holes

in it as they open. We're a brigade,

a fire brigade. It will be costly

fighting against a numerically

superior enemy. Marines have

never yet lost a battle; this brigade

will not be the first to establish

such a precedent."

After a night of bedlam on the

waterfront, 9,400 tons of supplies

had been unloaded, but the

brigade was to travel light, so most

of these supplies and all personal

baggage had to be left behind.

Thus it was that the brigade was

ready to move out on the morning

of 3 August.

There was still uncertainty as to

exactly where the men would

enter combat. Walker's headquarters had telephoned Craig at midnight and told him to move the

brigade to a town called Changwon, where Walker would temporarily hold the Marines in Eighth

Army reserve. This would position

the brigade strategically if Walker

decided that his most pressing

danger was an enemy breakthrough threat by the NKPA 6th

Infantry Division and the 83d

Motorcycle Regiment. The division

was a highly professional, welltrained unit of Chinese Civil War

veterans, and it had won a series

of smashing victories since the

invasion of South Korea a month

earlier. Now these units had seized

the town of Chinju and were

poised to strike at the far southwestern corner of Walker's defense

lines. Masan was their next probable target, and that was only 35

miles from Pusan.

The scene on the waterfront that

morning was a study in contrasts.

On one hand was the panicky

atmosphere of the city of Pusan. A

Marine officer felt it immediately:

"A tension and excitement that was

palpable . . . you could sense—

Chongjin -

Korea

30 50

____________

.Konggye 0 Miles

______________

Vudom-ni. ogoru

koto Fi

• Hyasanjin

Huichon

Hamhung

•Tokchon

Majon-ni .

•Soriwon

•t(umhwa

-

._Kaesong

14wachon

Seoul

in

I .Suwon\

. Toejon

Taegu
almost feel—fear. The people were

scared to death. The North

Koreans were very close."

On the other hand, there stood

the solid, poised brigade which,

with its aviation components,

totaled 6,534 men. The three rifle

battalions each had only two rifle

companies, but, taken from the

skeleton 1st Marine Division at

Camp Pendleton, was a wide

range of auxiliary units: a company

each from the division's Signal,

Motor Transport, Medical, Shore

Party, Engineer, Ordnance, and

Tank Battalions; detachments from

the Service Battalion, Combat

Service Group, Reconnaissance,

and Military Police Companies; the

1st Amphibian Tractor Company;

and Amphibian Truck Platoon. The

1st Battalion, 11th Marines, with

three firing batteries, was also

attached to provide the vital

artillery support.

These units were permeated

with an esprit de corps that was

unique to the Marines. Author T. R.

Fehrenbach had this analysis in his

book, This Kind of War

In 1950 a Marine Corps

officer was still an officer, and

a sergeant behaved the way

good sergeants had behaved

since the time of Caesar,

expecting no nonsense,

allowing none. And Marine

leaders had never lost sight of

their primary—their only—

mission, which was to fight.

The Marine Corps was not

made pleasant for men who

served in it. It remained the

same hard, brutal way of life

it had always been.

In 1950 . . . these men

walked with a certain confidence and swagger. They

were only young men like

those about them in Korea,

but they were conscious of a

standard to live up to,

because they had had good

training, and it had been

impressed upon them that

they were United States

Marines.

Those young men of 1950

undoubtedly did not know that

their predecessors had been to

Korea before—four times, in fact.

There had been a brief skirmish in

1871 (where the Marines were

fired upon by a cannon dated

1313!). Subsequent landings took

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A1229

Lfe on board ship was busy as the Marines prepared for battle. Here three of them

are test-firing their Browning Automatic Rifles.

Other Marines, in this case members of Company 2d Battalion, 5th Marines,

huddled intently over instructions in the use of their light machine guns.

National Archives Photo (USMc) 127-N-A1291

3

rN

/

I

p.
tj

—

-

I

A color guard from the South Korean Army, carrying the

colors of the United States, the United Nations, and South

National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A1257

Korea, joins with a Korean band to greet 1st Provisional

Brigade Marines on the dock at Pusan.

place in 1888 and 1894, and in

1905 Marines served as the

Legation Guard in Seoul—little

dreaming of the ordeal their successors there would undergo 45

years later.

Two things that were prominently visible on the pier were the 3.5-

inch rocket launchers ("ba-zookas")

and the M-26 Pershing tanks which

equipped the Marines—new

weapons that the battered Army

divisions lacked.

Invisible, but fundamental to the

action that lay ahead, were the

qualities that had been ingrained

into the Marines themselves. Joseph

C. Goulden in Korea: The Untold

Story of the War described the men

this way: "They had been in combat training in the United States;

they arrived in cohesive units in

which officers and men had served

together for months . . .

. They

insisted on controlling their own

air support in coordinated actions

based upon years of experience."

Another writer, Clay Blair, in The

Forgotten War, pointed out that

"the ranks were filled with physically tough young men who had

joined the corps to fight, not to

sightsee. The Marines had superior

firepower in squads, platoons, and

companies."

However, amongst all the units

in the Pusan Perimeter there was

one point of similarity. Except for

senior generals, no one—soldier or

Marine—had more than a vague

idea of how or why they came to

be there in a life-or-death situation

in a country of which they had

never heard five weeks before.

4

The actual events that had led

up to the brigade being poised on

that dock were a tangled skein of

high-level meetings, flurries of

orders, and long-distance airplane

trips that spanned half the globe

from New York to Washington,

D.C., to California, to Honolulu,

and to Tokyo.

It all began when alarm bells

went off in the pre-dawn of 25

June 1950 at the United Nations in

New York and the U.S. State

Department in Washington. There

had been a violent, surprise attack

across the 38th Parallel, an invasion of South Korea by some

90,000 well-trained, heavily armed

soldiers of the North Korean

Peoples Army (NKFA). As the star-
Brigadier General Edward A. Craig

—- 1

E

dward A Craig was born on 22 November 1896 in Danhuxy,

Connecticut. and attended St. Johns Military Academy in Wisconsin.

After being commissioned in the Marine Corns in August 1917, he

served in a wide range of posts: in Washington as aide to Major General

Commandant John A. Lejeune in 1926, and in Haiti, the Dominican

Republic, China, Nicaragua, and the Philippines, combined with tours on

board the aircraft carriers USS Yorktouw and USS Enterprise.

By May of 1942 he had been promoted to colonel, and this brought him

command of the 9th Marines. He led his regiment in combat on

Guadalcanal in July 1943. then thai. November on Bougainville where he

the Bronze Star. In December 1943, he was given a temporary promotion to brigadier general. In July-August 19:i1 his regiment led

the attack on Guam. Craig's valiant conduct there brought him a Navy

Cut ss. Moving a staff assignment, he sewed as operations officer, V

Amphibious U irps. in the assault on Iwo Jima in February 1945. A Legion

of Merit •as presented to him for that service.

Duty as assistant division commander, 1st Marine Division, in China in

I9i7, came with his promotion to permanent brigadier general. Craig then

assumed command 1 the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade in June of that

year. This brought him back to Guam, almost three years after he had participated in its recapture.

In 1949, he was transferred to Camp Pendleton as assistani division

commander, 1st Marine Division. Very soon thereafter came the ;ittack on

South Korea, which led to his designation. tir a second time, as

Commanding General, 1st Provisional Marine Brigade. This rime, however. it moved quickly to combat. When the brigade, after its victories in the

Pusan Perimeter, was deactivated in September 1950, its troops were

merged into a reformed 1st Marine Division. Craig reverted to his former

billet as assistant division commander. For his noteworthy performance of

duty during 1950 operations in Korea. he received an Air Medal with gold

star, a Silver Star, and a Distinguished Service Medal.

January 1951 brought his promotion to lieutenant general, and a few

months later, in June. he retired with 33 years of distinguished service. He

died in December 1994.

a

I.

5

tling news continued to pour in, it

quickly became apparent that the

half-trained, lightly armed Republic

of Korea (ROK) troops defending

South Korea were being smashed

and overrun.

At an emergency meeting of the

U.N. Security Council that same

afternoon, followed by another

two days later (27 June), there was

a decision to call for armed force

to repel the invaders. That was all

that was needed for General

Clifton B. Cates, Commandant of

the Marine Corps, to seize the initiative. The next day, 28 June, he

arranged a meeting with Admiral

Forrest P. Sherman, Chief of Naval

Operations, and Francis P.

Matthews, Secretary of the Navy,

and he recommended that the

Fleet Marine Force (FMF) "be

employed." Their reaction was

noncommittal, since U.S. ground

forces were not yet involved in

South Korea. Cates, however, had

learned over a long career a few

things about combat—whether it

was called by a euphemism such

as "police action," as in this case,

or was realistically a "war," in several of which he had distinguished

himself. Acting upon instinct,

when he returned from the indecisive meeting, he sent a warning

order to the 1st Marine Division at

Camp Pendleton, California, to get

ready to go to war. (Due to peacetime cuts, the strength of the entire

Marine Corps at that time was only

74,279, with 11,853 in the division

and its accompanying aircraft

wing. Thus, in reality, the "division" was little more than a reinforced regimental combat team in

fighting strength, and the "wing"

little more than a Marine air group.

Cates' gut reaction was confirmed the following day, on 29

June, when President Harry S.

Truman authorized General of the

Army Douglas MacArthur, Commander in Chief, Far East, in
.4

.-J.

Tokyo, to use the U.S. naval,

ground, and air units he had available to support the desperate

Republic of Korea forces.

Now there ensued examples of

the arcane complexities of highlevel decision-making at a time of

great stress. At Gates' urging,

Admiral Sherman asked Admiral

Arthur W. Radford, Commander in

Chief, Pacific Fleet, how long it

would take to ship out a Marine

regimental combat team (RCT).

Radford replied on 2 July: "load in

six days, sail in ten." Then, in a

time-honored communications

procedure for top-ranking officers,

Sherman sent a private message for

the eyes of MacAsthur via his naval

commander in the Far East, Vice

Admiral C. Turner Joy, asking if the

general would like a Marine RCT.

Swamped with bad news from

South Korea, MacArthur accepted

immediately with "unusual enthusiasm."

Accordingly, he fired off to

Sherman in Washington, D.C., that

same day (2 July) an urgent radio

request for a Marine RCT and a

supporting Marine aircraft group

(MAG).

Sherman took the request to a

meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

(JCS) for their decision. Although

the Commandant of the Marine

Corps was not, at that time, a

member of the JCS, Cates felt that,

since the decision directly affected

"his Marines," he should be

involved in it. Showing up uninvited at the meeting, he was allowed

to join it in view of the disastrous

news from the Korean front.

The JCS voted to commit the

Marine RCT and MAG, and with

Truman's concurrence, gave

MacArthur the good news on 3

July. (Gates later asked Sherman

how it had all come about, and the

M-26 Pershing Medium Tank and Its

North Korean Counterpart

he M-26 Pershing, shown above, was the backbone of Marine armor

during the first half of the Korean War. The 1st Tank Battalion, Fleet

Marine Force, at Camp Pendleton, replaced its M-4A3 Sherman

tanks with Pershings during the summer of 1950, shortly after the invasion

of South Korea.

Company A, 1st Tank Battalion, sailed for Korea with the 1st Provisional

Marine Brigade after having been able to test drive and fire only two of its

new tanks. While enroute, 14 tanks were damaged when the cargo hold

of a ship flooded. Landing at Pusan in August 1950, the tank crews had a

brief familiarization period before going into action. In concert with the

close-air support of Corsairs, 75mm recoilless rifles, and 3.5-inch rocket

launchers, the tanks gave the brigade a level of firepower that proved very

effective against the North Korean enemy.

Technical Data

Engine: Ford V-8 gasoline, liquid-cooled, 500HP

Dimensions: Length: 20 feet 8 inches

Width: 11 feet 4 inches

Height: 9 feet 1 inches

Weight: 46 tons

Maximum Speed: On roads: 30mph

Cross country: 18mph

Radius of Action: On roads: 92 miles

Cross country: 62 miles

Crew: 5

Armament: One 90mm M3 gun

Two .30-caliber machine guns

M1919A4 (bow & coaxial)

One .50-caliber M2 machine gun on turret

T-34 North Korean Medium Tank

After great success early in the war and acquiring a fearsome reputation, the T-34, not shown, met its nemesis in the Marines' anti-tank

weapons. Supplied from Russian stocks, it weighed 32,000 kilograms and

carried a crew of five men. A V-12 diesel engine gave it an off-road speed

of 30 kilometers per hour. Armament was an 85mm gun, supplemented by

two 7.62mm machine guns.

6

\ Brigade is Born
admiral replied in a baseball

metaphor: "From Gates to

Sherman, to Joy, to MacArthur, to

JCS!")

Now Gates (and the Marine

Corps) had to deliver, on 7 July he

had the 1st Provisional Marine

Brigade activated, but then a monumental effort, carried out at a

frantic pace, was needed to assemble the essential manpower, equipment, and weapons—and to do all

that in one week flat!

The initial building blocks were

there, the 5th Marines at Camp

Pendleton and MAG-33 at the

nearby El Toro Marine Air Station.

The critical manpower problem

was to flesh out these units from

their peacetime reductions so that

they could fight with maximum

effectiveness. By telegraph and

telephone orders went out to regular Marines all over the country:

"get to Pendleton NOW!" And so

they came pouring in day and

7

Marine Corps Historical Center Photo

General Clifton B. Cates

night by bus and plane and train, a

flood of men from 105 posts and

stations.

Captain "Ike" Fenton long remembered the ensuing problems:

These men were shipped

from the posts and stations by

air, most of them arriving with

just a handbag. Their seabags

were to be forwarded at a

later date. They didn't have

dog tags and had no health

records to tell us how many

shots they needed. Their

clothing generally consisted

of khaki only, although a few

had greens.

They had no weapons and

their 782 equipment was

incomplete. We had a problem of trying to organize

these men into a platoon and

getting them all squared away

before our departure date.

Other officers recalled odd

aspects of those hectic days: no

one got any sleep; some men were

detailed to help in the filming of

The 3.5-Inch Rocket Launcher

The

35-inch rocket launcher (also known as the "Super Bazooka")

olkrccl the inLintrvrnao portable rocker weapon, designed to he

used as an anti-tank defense. Introduced in early 1950, the 3.5-inch

launcher gave the Marine Corps the means to pierce any armored vehicle

from a greater distance than previous launchers, and with improved accuracy.

The M20 3.5-inch launcher appeared after its predecessor, the 2.36-inch

launcher (developed in World War Iii, proved ineffective against the

Russian tanks in Korea. The M20 was a two-piece. smooth-bore weapon

formed hy connecting the front and rear barrels together. Weighing only

12 pounds with an assembled length of 60 inches, the 35-inch launcher

was easily transportable and could he fired from a standing, sitting, or

prone position. The M20 rocket had a 'shaped charge" that concentrated

the force of the explosion on a very small area, thus allowing the projeciilr' to penetrate armor plate as thick as 11 inches. In addition to the

weapons deadly force, a unique gunsight that allowed for various ranges

and speeds provided the 3.5 an accuracy up to 900 yards.
Lieutenant Colonel Raymond L. Murray

B

orn 30 january 1913 in Los AngeIe. California. Murray grew up to

attend Texas A&Sl College. While there he was enrolled in the

keserve Officer Training Course. Gi-aduating in 193 with a bachebr of arts degree, he did a short stint in the Texas National Guard and then

was commissioned in the Marine Corps on 1 July . After Basic School, he

was ordered to duty in China, 1937-1940. A radical change of scenert led

to an assignment asa captain with the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade in

Iceland, 1941-1942.

i\1ovin overseas in November 19-i2 with the 2d Division, he was

awarded the Silver Star in January 19•i3 for his service as Commanding

Officer, 2d Battalion, 6th Marines, on Guadalcanal. Now a lieutenant

colonel, he took his battalion on to Tarawa in November 1913. where he

received a second Silver Star. This was It ill wct.l by exploits on Saipan that

brought him a Navy Cross and a Purple Heart in June 1944.

The years after World War II saw Murray in a variety of peacetime

Marine Corps duties, leading to his taking over in lilly 19(i as Commanding Officer. 5th Marines (a billet normally reserved for full

colonel). When his regiment became the core of the 1t Provisional Marine

Brigade in Kt rr-a, and then was a key unit in the Inchon-Seoul battles, he

again distinguished himself in combat and was awarded hi.s third lver

Star. a fourth one from the Army, and a Legion of Merit with Combat V

in August and September 1950.

Further combat at the Naktong River, Irichon, Seoul, and the Chosin

Reservoir brought a second Navy Cross and an Army Distinguished Service

Medal.

In Januaiy 19S1, after nearly eight years as a lieutenant colonel, he was

promoted to full colonel, and then, after a sequence of duties in

Washington. Quantico. and Camp Pendleton, to the rank of brigadier general in lunc 1959. This led to his assignment as Assistant Division

Commander, 3d Marine Division. on Okinawa. Promoted to major general

in February 1963, he saw duty as Deputy Commander, 111 Marine

Amphibious Force, in Vietnam in October 1967.

After 33 years of highly decorated active duty, Murray retired in .\ugust

1968 as a major general.

Hollywood's "Halls of Montezuma"; other men were detailed to

fight fires in the Santa Margarita

Mountains. The supply crisis was

overcome by a precipitous change

from an attitude of "counting

shoelaces" to "take whatever you

need." Acquisition of the new 3.5-

inch rocket launcher was made

possible by shipments from all

over the country. There was an

influx of senior staff noncommissioned officers, some of whom

were physically unfit, and this led

to some sergeants major being

assigned to ride shotgun on ambulance jeeps. A number of World

War II officers with no infantry

experience also arrived.

The 5th Marines was beefed up

by an emergency authorization to

add a third platoon to each of the

two rifle companies, but it proved

impossible to get a third rifle company for each of the three battalions. This was a serious shortage.

It meant that the battalions would

have to go into battle without a

company they could use for

maneuver or have in reserve. And

that would cause extra casualties

in the weeks ahead. There were,

however, two compensating factors for the shortages. First, the

regiment was a well-trained, cohesive unit. Murray put it this way:

"We had been extremely lucky, in

the previous year we had virtually

no turnover . . . so that we had a

regiment which, for all intents and

purposes, had been together for a

full year, training."

Second, 90 percent of the

brigade's officers had seen combat

before on the bloody beaches and

in the jungles of the Pacific. This

was also the case for two-thirds of

the staff noncommissioned officers. Here was a group of leaders

well prepared for the rigors of

combat.

With the addition of supporting

units hastily assembled, a rein8
forced RCT came into being. Such

a unit normally would be commanded by a full colonel, but this

case was different. As thenLieutenant Colonel Murray later

recalled:

I was sure that a colonel

would be brought in. It wasn't until sometime later when

I was talking to [Major]

General [Graves B.] Erskine

[commanding the 1st Marine

Division] . . . and he told me

that when this broke, General

Cates told him, "I'll get you a

colonel as soon as I can to get

out and take the regiment,"

and General Erskine said he

told General Cates, "Don't

need one. I've got somebody

who can take the regiment."

Along with the manpower problem came materiel problems. The

peacetime economies forced on all

the military Services by political

decisions in Washington had hit

hard the resources of equipment,

supplies, and weapons. The

Marine Corps, however, had an ace

up its sleeve for just such a high

pressure, short-deadline situation

as this.

Tucked away in the California

desert was the huge Marine Supply

Depot at Barstow. It had been

filled five years earlier by following

a prudent, far-seeing policy that

countless past emergencies had

taught the Marine Corps: "When

you get a chance to stock up, do it,

because you'll never know when

you'll really need it!"

Thus, at the end of World War II,

Marine salvage teams had looked

around the Pacific islands for abandoned equipment. Then they

brought it back to Barstow, repainted it "Marine green," stenciled

"USMC" on it, and "mothballed" it

for future use. From this treasure

trove came the old jeeps, the old

trucks, and the old amphibian tractors that would be so vital to the

brigade's operations. Brand new,

however, were the M-26 tanks with

their 90mm guns. The Marines in

the 1st Tank Battalion had trained

in a different, older tank with different armament, and their race to

switch over, train, and prepare for

embarkation was typical of the

pressure to which all hands were

subjected. (Each tanker got to fire

exactly two rounds before departure.)

It was the same frantic scene at

El Toro as MAG-33 struggled to get

its aviators and planes up to combat readiness. As with the ground

troops, the organizational units

were mere peacetime skeletons.

Thus the 1st Marine Aircraft Wing

(1st MAW) was a wing in name

only, and had to be stripped bare

just to give MAG-33 what it needed.

Adding a wholly new resource

were "the first helicopter pilots of

the United States Armed Forces to

be formed into a unit for overseas

combat service." They came from

Quantico, Virginia, where, since

1947, the Marine Corps had pioneered helicopter combat techniques. On their arrival, there were

just 48 hours to join up the four

H035-1 helicopters with the four

usable OY-2 observation planes,

and have Marine Observation

Squadron 6 (VMO-6) ready to ship

out.

Somehow, it was done under

the unbelievable pressure of time,

and the brigade air-ground team

was ready to sail on schedule.

There was one final vignette that

exemplified the morale of the men.

A reporter-photographer, David

Douglas Duncan, in his book, This

is War.', described a scene where

General Craig had spoken to a

mass meeting of his men just

before they went on board ship.

When they heard they were headed for Korea and Craig referred to

the traditional Marine role, "the

men were dead-panned . expressionless." But Duncan continued:

When a brigade goes to war, it needs a lot of supplies and equipment. Here

Marines labor on the dock at San Diego to load up the ships that will take them

to war.

National Archives Photo (USMC) 1 27-N-A1063

9
Then Craig, with his

Brigade Surgeon standing at

his side, told his men that as

long as there were any

Marines alive in Korea who

could still fire a rifle, or toss a

grenade, no other Marines

would be left behind upon

the battlefield, either wounded or dead. Over four thousand men shouted in unison

as his Leathernecks gleefully

slugged each other in the ribs,

grinned happily and wanted

to know when the hell they

were going aboard ship.

On 14 July the ships left San

Diego, taking Marines to combat

once more.

With the troops enroute at sea,

General Craig and Brigadier

General Thomas J. Cushman had

boarded an airplane and flown to

Hawaii. There they met with

Lieutenant General Lemuel C.

Shepherd, Jr., Commanding

General, Fleet Marine Force, Pacific

(FMFPac). Craig underscored the

painful shortage of rifle companies;

the missing 105mm howitzers in his

artillery, the 1st Battalion, 11th

Marines; and his lack of motor

transport.

Flying on to Tokyo on 19 July,

the two Marine generals went

quickly to meet General MacArthur. Craig made his feelings very

clear:

While talking to General

MacArthur, I informed him

that we were on a peacestrength basis, that we were

an air-ground team and had

trained as such at Pendleton

and would be very effective if

left intact. However, I told him

that if they took our air force

away from us, our fighting

potential would be cut about

99 percent as far as I was concerned.

MacArthur went on to assure

Craig that the Marines could retain

their planes, and he so informed

Lieutenant General George E.

Stratemeyer, commander of the U.S.

Far East Air Forces. This was a great

relief to Craig, who later stated that

"Stratemeyer was very anxious to

10

MILES get Marine air under his command

as soon as they arrived in that area."

The discussion continued on a

harmonious note, with MacArthur

saying, "I'm very glad to have you

here with the 1st Brigade." When

he learned of Craig's manpower

shortages, he directed that a dispatch go to the JCS requesting full

war strength for the brigade.

(During this time, messages continued to fly back and forth regarding

.

38 .,• .

ONCDOK

ANG DONE

USAN N . :. . . .. .. )MoicPo

_______________

8th ARMY SITUATION

LATE JULY 1950

0 25 50
National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A1185

The men of the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade have landed in Pusan, Korea, and are marched off to combat.

the mobilization of the full 1st

Marine Division for a future campaign that MacArthur was already

planning. This led to the call-up of

Marine Reserves on 19 July.)

The meeting ended with a directive from MacArthur to set up billets for the brigade in Japan. It was

not to be. The situation in Korea

had degenerated to a near-collapse. U.S. Army troops had been

rushed from comfortable occupation duty in Japan to bolster the

reeling ROK divisions. Things had

gone badly—very badly. The official Army history recounts a continuous series of problems: tanks

ambushed, sentries asleep, soldiers

killed while riding in trucks instead

of marching, repeated retreats,

communication breakdowns, etc.

The history characterizes the situation at the time the Marine brigade

arrived by stating: "Walker was

concerned about the failure of his

troops to carry out orders to maintain contact with the enemy."

Overall, it summarized the crisis in

stark language: "Never afterwards

were conditions as critical . .

Never again did the North Koreans

come as close to victory."

Faced with this situation,

Walker, as ground commander,

had withdrawn all the troops into a

last-stand enclave called the Pusan

Perimeter.

This was a 60-by-90-mile rectangle with the Sea of Japan on the

east, the Korean Strait on the

south, the Naktong River on the

west, and a line of mountains on

the north. It did have one advantage crucial to Walker. This was his

ability, in this constricted area, to

use his interior lines of movement

to set up a final defensive perimeter with the capacity to rush emergency reinforcements to quell any

serious enemy threat where a

breakthrough seemed imminent.

With the whole beachhead on

the Korean Peninsula now in such

peril, Craig received new, urgent

orders on 25 July: the brigade

would go straight to Korea to serve

as Walker's "fire brigade" where

most needed. The next day Craig

was in Taegu, Walker's headquarters in South Korea. He used his

11

stay there to absorb all possible

information on the fluid situation

on the front lines—including a

careful aerial survey he made of

sites where his brigade might be

thrown into action.

On 30 July, Craig headed for

Pusan, set up a temporary command post, and wrote out a preliminary operations order for the

brigade as the NKPA tide rolled

over Chinju and headed for nearby

Masan. Arrangements were made

with MAG-33 in Japan to be ready

for action the moment the brigade

arrived on board its transports.

The next day, still without a

decision by Walker on the deployment of the brigade, Craig sensed

the threat to Masan, looming such

a short distance from Pusan, as a

probable priority. Accordingly, he

decided to supplement his previous aerial view with a ground

reconnaissance by jeep. Then he

waited tensely for his brigade to

arrive.

It came 2 August; it moved Out 3

August. One historian, Donald

Knox, crystallized that moment in
out to meet head-on the most

urgent enemy threat. It went with a

ringing message from Gates: "The

proud battle streamers of our

Gorps go with you in combat. The

pride and honor of many generations of Marines is entrusted to you

today. You are the old breed. With

you moves the heart and the soul

and the spirit of all whoever bore

the title United States Marine.

Good luck and Godspeed."

Part of the men (1st Battalion)

went by truck to the staging area

of Ghangwon. Since the Marines

had been forced by a shortage of

shipping to leave their heavy

equipment back in the United

States, the transportation was made

possible by borrowing two Army

truck companies, with an additional bonus in the form of a loan of

communication jeeps and reconnaissance company jeeps with .50-

caliber machine guns. Going by

train were the precious tanks and

some of the men. Duncan, the

reporter, described what those

kind of trips were like:

National Archives Photo (USN) 80-G-416920

The F4U Corsairs of VFM-214, VMF-323, and VMF(N)-513, with a helicopter qf The first stage of moving

VMO-6, jam-pack the deck of the USS Badoeng Strait enroute to Pusan. up to the front was no probhis book, The Korean War Loading up the old Korean railroad car.s the men have their packs full, and

carry entrenching tools as they head for their Changwon staging area.

The fluid situation the National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A1181

brigade would encounter in

the Pusan Perimeter would

demand the very elements the

Marines had in abundance—

courage, initiative, élan . . morale in the rifle companies

was extremely high. In spite

of what they'd heard, the

Marines knew the North

Koreans could be beaten. The

Marine Gorps was sending to

Korea the best it had.

It was an early start; at 0600 on

3 August the "fire brigade" moved

12

4.?
Brigadier General Thomas J. Cushman

B

orn on 27 June 1895 in Saint bails, Cushman graduated from the

University of \VasI iiiigtori in Seattle and subsequently enlisted in the

Marine Corps in July 1917. Commissioned in October 1918. he

received his naval avian r wings the following year. Duty in Guam,

Nicaragua, and Haiti followed the diverse Marine aviation pattern ii the

I')20s.

Next, in lune 1933, came a tour in the Bureau of Aeronautics of the

Navy Department, and then, broadening his i.nterservice experience, lie

attended the Army Air Corps.' Tactical School in 1935. With the commitment

of Marine aviation in World War II. Cushn'tan was appointed Chief of Stall,

Marine Aircraft Wings, Pacific. With temporary rank of brigadier general

in January 19-i-i, he was next assigned as Air Defense Commander,

Marianas Islands. For these services lie was awarded a Bronze Star and the

Legion of Merit with Combat "V."

\X'lien his rank was made permanent in 11)1', he became Commanding

General, Aircraft, Fleet Marine Force. Pacific, the h li aving year. \Viili the

outbreak of the Korean War, he assigned as Assistant Wing

Commander, 1st Marine Aircraft Wing. in June 1950. With the forward echelon of the wing. lie provided the aft' support ii ir rite Marine Brigade when

it went to Korea, In 1951 he took command of the wing. Hi leadership

there brought him his second Legion of Merit and a Distinguished Service

Medal.

his final billet was Deputy Commander. Fleet Marine Pt tree, Pacitic. as

a major general in 19S3. and, after promobon to lieutenant general in Phi.

he retired. I Ic died in July l92.

13

lem, but it was slow. The

troop trains were sturdy,

wooden-bodied old coaches,

leftovers from the days when

the Japanese had run the

country. . . . The Marines

inside showed almost no

interest in the slowly passing

scenery. They ate their

rations, oiled their weapons,

slept in the vestibules

between the cars with their

rifles held close. They were

professional men riding to

work.

The planes of MAG-33 had a

busy time that same day of 3

August. Under the command of

General Cushman were the fighter

squadrons VMF-323 ("Death

Rattlers") under Major Arnold A.

Lund and VMF-214 ("Black

Sheep") commanded by Lieutenant

Colonel Walter E. Lischeid. They

were equipped with 60 of the gullwinged Corsair F4Us. One of their

partners was Marine Night Fighter

Squadron 513 (VMF[N1-513)

("Flying Nightmares") under Major

Joseph H. Reinburg. This was a

squadron specially trained for

night fighting with its F4U-5N

Corsairs and new twin-engine F7F

Tigercats. The other partner was

VMO-6, commanded by Major

Vincent J. Gottschalk, with its four

usable OY-2 light observation

planes and, for the first time in real

combat for any U.S. Service, four

Sikorsky HO3S-1 helicopters.

When the ground elements of

the brigade were unloading in

Pusan, MAG-33 had been in Kobe,

Japan. From there, VMF-323 had

gone on board the Badoeng Strait,

while VMF-214 was based on the

Sicily (CVE-118). VMF(N)-513 was

based at Itazuke Airfield on

Kyushu Island. Marine Tactical Air

Control Squadron 2 (MTACS-2)

traveled by ship to Pusan. VMO-6

amazed the Japanese citizens
1

when it simply took off in its light

observation planes and helicopters

from the streets of Kobe. Four of

its helicopters and four of its OY

planes made the short hop to

Pusan on 2 August, so they were

there, ready to go with the brigade,

even though they had not been

visible in that memorable scene on

the waterfront.

VMF-214 launched an eightplane flight from the Sicily on 3

August and pummeled Chinju with

incendiary bombs, rockets, and

strafing, a small preview of what

the Marines had in store for the

NKPA 6th Division. This attack

took place less than a month after

the receipt of official orders sending the planes to the Far East. (An

even earlier mission—the first for

Marine planes—had been on 4 July

when two F4U Corsair photographic planes from MAG-12 on

the carrier Valley Forge (CV-45)

had joined in a Navy air strike

against the North Korean capital of

Pyongyang.)

On a succession of those early

August days, all three of the

Marine fighter squadrons kept up a

steady pattern of bombing, strafing, and rocketing attacks on NKPA

targets. On 5 August, for instance,

Major Kenneth L. Reusser led a

four-plane division of Corsairs to

Inchon, the port of the South

Korean capital of Seoul. There he

was responsible for the discovery

and the destruction of an enemy

tank assembly plant, an oil refinery, and an oil tanker ship. The

two Corsairs which Reusser flew

on two successive strikes during

his attacks of that day were severely damaged by enemy fire. He was

awarded a gold star in lieu of a

second Navy Cross for his heroism

on this mission.

VMO-6 was also busy. The

squadron had moved west from

Pusan to Chinhae, a base close to

the threatened city of Masan and

Vought F4U-4B Corsair

he familiar Vought F4U Corsair emerged out of World War II synonymous with American victory in the Pacific and became the aircraft most closely associated with Marine Corps aviation. The

Corsair was a versatile, tough, and heavy fighter-bomber and night-fighter, and was easily recognized by its distinctive inverted gull wings. At the

conclusion of the war, Vought's concentration was in the limited production of the F4U-4 models, producing 2,356 up to 1947.

The 4B model was equipped with a 2,100 horsepower engine of the

Pratt and Whitney R-2800-18W type. The aircraft had a top speed of almost

450 mph, a climb rate of 3,870 feet per minute, and a range of more than

1,000 miles. Operational altitudes could be reached as high as 41,500 feet.

Standard armament for the 4B were the awesome six .50-caliber machine

guns, and a payload capability of eight 5-inch rockets and up to 4,000

pounds of ordnance.

When the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade made its entry into the Korean

War, supporting the Marines on the ground were both Navy squadrons

and, in particular, the Marine units from the carriers Badoeng Strait and

Sicily,VMF-214, better known as the Black Sheep Squadron, and VMF-323,

the Death Rattlers Squadron.

Starting on 7 August 1950, VMF-214 and -323, both of which had effectively absorbed the lessons of close air support during WWII, provided the

brigade support by having four to 10 Corsairs continuously overhead.

Flying a total of 6,575 combat support missions, the favorite ordnance carried for close air support missions was napalm, deadly jellied gasoline that

was most effective against NKPA armor. The Corsairs usually carried two

150-gallon napalm bombs that weighed approximately 1,400 pounds

apiece.

During the month of August, the close air support missions from

Badoeng Strait and Sicily gave everyone a lasting impression. Observing

from the ground, said an Army soldier of the Marine aviators: "The effectiveness of Marine close air support astonished Army troops fighting alongside the Leathernecks." On 18 August, several hundred NKPA fell under

the Death Rattler's Corsairs' merciless air assault that pounded their retreat

across the Naktong River.

14
National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A130913

The eyes of the brigade: the OY light observation plane was invaluable in the rugged terrain and endless hills.

the brigade's forthcoming zone of

action. This location had been a

South Korean naval base and

ammunition depot, but it had a

2,600-foot airstrip with two completed hangars and quonset huts

for housing. So VMO-6 set up

quickly for business.

Craig took off early on 3 August

in one of its helicopters and put in

a remarkable day that demonstrated the amazing versatility and usefulness of the new aircraft. He

stopped to give instructions to the

lead battalion on the march; he

then selected a site for his forward

command post (CP); and he then

flew to Masan to confer with

Walker and Major General William

B. Kean, USA, commander of the

25th Infantry Division, to which

the brigade would be attached.

Finally, on his return trip, Craig

landed three more times to meet

with his unit commanders.

Craig's own later evaluation of

this mobility was very specific.

After noting that fast travel by jeep

was often impossible due to trafficclogged roads, considerable distances to his objectives, and frequent tactical moves, he contrasted

these impediments with his obligations. These included conferences

with Army generals, the need to

return to his CP to issue orders,

then to observe his Marines in the

field, as well as the requirement

that he reconnoiter the terrain

before operations began. He then

commented: "My staff faced the

same problems. Time was always

pressing. Fortunately, Marine helicopters attached to VMO-6 were

always available for observation,

communications, and control.

These aircraft made my day!

Without them I do not believe we

would have had the success we

did."

The squadron's OY-2 light

planes were equally useful on that

day as they flew convoy for the

brigade and made reconnaissance

flights over the staging area, looking for any signs of enemy infiltration. This proved so successful that

VMO-6 set up a regular procedure

to have an OY over the brigade

area at all times during daylight

hours. To provide this non-stop

support, there were shifts with a

new plane, new pilot, and new

observer coming in relays every

two hours. Similarly, two helicopters went every morning to the

15

brigade CP, to be relieved at noon

by two others.

This new element of air mobility proved to be a vital asset to the

ground troops. Craig pointed out

that "maps were poor, and no one

in the brigade had personal knowledge of the terrain over which we

were to fight. Helicopters were a

life saver in this connection, as

they provided the means for even

commanders of small units to get

into the air quickly from almost

any point and identify roads, villages and key points prior to moving their troops." The helicopters

soon were employed for a wide

variety of additional missions:

evacuating the wounded; transporting supplies to inaccessible hill

peaks; scouting enemy locations;

and rescuing downed fighter

pilots.

Of course, the NKPA was quick

to open fire whenever it spotted

one of the helicopters on the

ground. Duncan, the reporter, was

again on the spot for one typical

episode. He was cutting across one

of the rice paddies to where an aircraft sat with rotor blades kept

spinning for a fast take-off.

General Craig emerged from that
helicopter, checking the disposition of his troops. As the reporter

looked closely at him, a conviction

grew: "I knew that [he] could take

anything that Korea could hand

Out."

Duncan's account continues:

"Suddenly that old familiar bucketswinging swoosh cut out all other

sounds and two mortar bombs

dropped into the riverbed. Great

geysers of mud and gravel mixed

with red-hot fragments shot into

the sky. So did the helicopter.

Before another bracket of bombs

could fall the aircraft was halfway

down the valley, General Craig

was in his jeep headed for his CP

on the mountainside."

With the full brigade concentrated at Changwon by the late afternoon of 3 August, Craig faced a

very uncertain situation. Although

he had been ordered into a

"bivouac" status as Eighth Army

reserve, he was wary, for his

Changwon location was very close

to a vital road junction at

Chindong-ni where heavy fighting

was taking place. With the perimeter shrinking at an alarming rate

and an NKPA envelopment from

the west headed straight for Pusan,

Craig decided:

We felt that going into

bivouac would leave us wide

open for surprise. To ensure

our security and be prepared

for any eventuality, I deployed

the brigade tactically.

Although a little triggerhappy, we were ready for

combat, even though situated

behind the so-called frontlines. During the few days we

were at Changwon, we knew

we were observed by enemy

observation posts and patrols

off on the flank. They did not

16

bother us. A major penetration

of the U.S. Army lines at

Chindong-ni could have been

fatal to us if we had been

caught in bivouac.

The general's reference to "a little trigger-happy" was an understatement made some time later, for

the first night they were anything

but professional. In pitch darkness,

with thoughts of enemy infiltration

making some of the men tense,

nervous firing broke out among the

Marines.

Although there were varying

opinions of how widespread the

firing was, one private first class

named Fred F. Davidson, later

recalled:

I raised my carbine and

squeezed the trigger. The

muzzle flash blinded me. For

the next few seconds I saw
Weapons

A

Marin.e i,, a mjle cmnpany had a wide variet. of

ueapu#is Ihal he could use himself or that u'ere

,, 'a,/ahk' in other units to support him. As ala 'ats.

his basic weapon u'as his r(fle.

U.S. Rifle, .30-Caliber, Ml

The .30-caliber Ml rule was a gas-operated, clip-fed.

air—cooled, semi-automatic weapon. It weighed 9.5

pounds, had an average rate of aimed fire of 30 rounds

per minute, a muzzle velocity oF 2,600-2.800 feet per

second, and a bullet clip capacity of eight rounds.

Inherited from World War II. the Ml provided strong and

accurate firepower for the rifleman.

U.S. Carbine, .30-Caliber. Ml

The .30-caliber Ml carbine was a gas-operated, magazine-fed, a jr—cooled, scm -automatic shoulder weapon.

The weight was only 5.75 pounds. Eight indies shorter

than the Ml rifle, it had a muzzle velocity of jusL 2,000

feet Ier second, arid a magazine capacity of 15 rounds.

This size arid weight lcd to its issLiance to officers,

although it Iackcd the hitting power of the Ml.

Automatic Pistol, .45-Caliber, M191 1A1

Regardless of what was officially prescribed, a number of Marines carried a -iS-caliber automatic pistol in

Korea. This was a time-honored weapon featured in the

lore of the Corps. Described as a recoil-operated, inagi—

zinc-fed, self-loading hand weapon, the .-tS-caliber

weighed 2.76 pound when fully loaded, wa.s 8.59 inchin length, and had a capacity l seven rounds. The

muzzle velocity as 802 Feet per second, while the maximum e!tccuve range for the troops using ii was only 25

yards. lii c!( )sc c( mhat. it often pu a ed invaluable.

To furnish a high volume of direct fire in support of

the rifle platoons. there were three types of automatic

weapons.

Browning, .30-Caliber, M1919A4

The .30-caliber "Browning' light machine gun was .t

recoil-operated, belt-fed, air-cooled weapon. It weighed

31 pounds, hut with its tripod mount that rose to 40.75

pounds. While the "cyclical" rate (It fire was 400-550

rounds per minute, the "usable" rate was really 151)

rounds per minute. Muz?.le velocity varied heiveen

2,600 to '.800 feet per second, depending on the cartridge used.

Browning, .30-Caliber, M1917A1

The "Browning" .30-caliber water-cooled "heavy"

machine gun was extensively used in the battle 0

Seoul and in the trenches at the end of the war. Its effective rate 1 fire was 350-450 rounds per minute. With a

muzzle velocity of 2,800 feet per minute, in direct fije its

ttiadmum ellective range was 3.1)1)0 yards. This dropped

to 300 yards for indirect fire. u.s length wa.s 38.5 inches.

"Heavy" was an accurate Icon, since the gun alone

weighed -ii pounds. and its tripod added another 53

pounds. Each ammunition belt contained 2544 rounds.

Browning Automatic-Rifle,

.30-Caliber, Ml 91 8A2

As a mainstay of the rifle squad, the "B-A-R" (as it

was ahvays called) was an air-cooled.gas-opcratcd.

m:igazine-fed. shoulder weapon. \\),ighing 20 pounds.

it had a magazine capacity of 20 rounds. The man using

it carried still more weight in the magazine p 'uches on

his eh belt. Although maximum range could be 5,500

yards. its elicvtive range was 500 yards. There were two

cyclical rates of fire for the OAR-man to choose: slow,

350. and normal, 5Sf).

Iwo other specialized weapons were invaluable for

the Marines during Pusan and the subsequent Street

fighting in Seoul . .\o.t,nst North Korean tanks, strong

points, and snipers in buildings, they were deadly.

3.5-inch Rocket Launcher

Familiarly call the "bazooka," the rocket launcher

fired an 8.5-pound rocket with a hollow—shaped charge

in its head. It vcighecl 15 is oirids .tid was usually indIed hy a two—man team.

75mm Recoiless Rifle

The 75mm recoilless nIle fired conventional shells in

a flat trajectory, weighed 105 pounds, and required a

tripod in use. Its effective range was 1.0(14.) to 2,000

yards.

Mortars

The 60mm mortar vis a smooth—bore, muzzle—loading, high—angle—fire weapon used bya rifle company.

With its base plate and bipc id support. it weighed i2

pounds. Normal rate fit-c was 18 rounds per minute,

using either high explosive, white phosphorous. or illuminating shells. These had ranges varying from l,(Y"S to

1,985 yards.

The 8ltnni mortar could fire a 6.8 pound high explosive shell lip to 3.291) yards. Its cight, coinbititng har—

rd. base plate, and tripod totaled 136 pounds. Elevath 01

could be varied from 40 to 85 degrees.

The i .2-inch nlurtitr, affectionately referred to as the

"four—deuce," tired a round with more explosive powcIthan a 105mm howitzer. Equialent to 107mm in caliber, it could fire a 25.5-pound shell up to 4,-00 yards.

Total weight was 331) pounds.

109mm Howitzer M1OIAI

As a light, towed field artillery weapon. this was used

in direct support of infantry units. A battalion had three

batteries with cix howitzers each. Weighing i,950

pounds. the cannon fired a 33-pound shell to a maximum range of 11.000 meters. While usually moved by

a truck, a heavy helicopter could also carry it. The 105

needed only three minutes to emplace and could sustain a rate of fire of three rounds per minute,

17
,,r

.4.

lights and stars. Andy shouted,

"Hey, you almost hit me!" Oh,

God, I didn't know I was aiming in that direction. It was so

dark I couldn't see my front

sight. I said to myself, "You

better take it easy, ol' buddy,

before you kill some Marine."

Over to my rear someone else

pulled off a round. Next it was

someone to my front.

Then the firing pinballed

from place to place all over

the hill and back down toward

the railroad track . . . Finally

• . . all firing ceased . . . . The

rest of the night I lay awake,

scared, my finger on the trigger.

The brigade's stay at Changwon

was brief but useful. The rifle units

got a pithy lecture about fire discipline and conducted patrols to the

high ground beside them—a foretaste of the endless hill climbs

ahead. The tank and artillery units

had a opportunity at last to do

some training in firing their

weapons, and the Reconnaissance

Company started its probing operations. Firm communications were

set up with the fighter squadrons

afloat.

Craig made two trips to Masan

for planning meetings with Walker

and Kean, and late on 5 August the

brigade got the word to be prepared to move out by truck the

next day to Chindong-ni with

action to come immediately thereafter. The town was eight miles

southwest of Masan on the road to

Chinju. It was the point now subject to imminent NKPA attack.

Walker had assigned three units

to this first offensive: the Marine

brigade, two regiments of the 25th

Infantry Division, and the Army's

5th RCT. They would be called

Task Force Kean.

For the brigade, the 3d Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant

Colonel Robert D. Taplett, was

designated to move first on 6

August. Arriving at Chindong-ni,

Taplett had to scout out the situation, since his battalion was due to

be temporarily under the operational control of an Army colonel

commanding the Army's 27th RCT

there, When he got to the Army

regimental command post (CP),

the colonel was not there, and his

operations officer did not know

where he could be found, and neither could Taplett contact the commanding officer of the battalion in

Chindong-ni. Its CP was there,

right in the middle of the road, so

Taplett quickly chose a very different location for his CP—on the

reverse slope of a ridgeline.

As 7 August began, Task Force

Kean was ready to jump off on the

first real American offensive of the

Korean War. Looking back on this

day, Craig later felt that the fundamental requirement was for comA Marine guides a work detail of South

and water to the front lines.

18

bat readiness. He had seen this in

a brigade which was activated at

Camp Pendleton on 7 July and was

in combat by 7 August—only one

month later.

It was in truth a memorable date

for the brigade: exactly eight years

earlier, to the day, Marines had

opened the first American ground

offensive of World War II at

Guadalcanal. The plan now called

for a three-pronged attack, with

the brigade on the left following

the south (roundabout) fork of the

main road, the 5th RCT moving

straight ahead on the road in the

center (the direct line west to

Chinju), and a regiment of the 25th

Infantry Division swinging around

in an arc on the right to join up

with the 5th RCT halfway to

Chinju.

It looked good on paper, but the

NKPA refused to cooperate. The

6th Division fully expected to continue its unbroken string of victoKorean carriers, bringing ammunition

National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A1303
ries. Its commander, under orders

to roll into Pusan forthwith, had

issued this stirring proclamation to

his men:

Comrades, the enemy is

demoralized. The task given

to us is the liberation of

Masan and Chinju and the

annihilation of the remnants

of the enemy. We have

accelerated the liberation of

all Korea. However, the liberation of Chinju and Masan

means the final battle to cut

off the windpipe of the

enemy. Comrades, this glorious task has fallen to our division! Men of the 6th Division,

let us annihilate the enemy

and distinguish ourselves!

Thus, just as Task Force Kean

launched its attack, so did the 6th

Division. The Army's 5th RCT led

off on the 7th with its 1st Battalion.

When it got to the road junction

west of Chindong-ni, for some

unknown reason it took the left

(south) fork that was assigned to

the Marines instead of going

straight ahead (west) on the road

that led to Chinju. Advancing three

miles on the wrong road, it left

open to enemy control Hill 342

which overlooked and commanded the main supply route that the

task force would need. Kean had

ordered that this was to be held "at

all costs."

A company of the 2d Battalion,

5th RCT, had earlier been on the

hill, but it was now quickly surrounded and cut off. To help break

the siege, a midnight order came

from the 25th Division, via the

commanding officer of the Army's

27th Infantry Regiment, to send a

Marine platoon to help the beleaguered Army company on Hill 342.

It would be the first infantry action

for the brigade.

Badoeng Strait before a mission.

Second Lieutenant John J. H.

"Blackie" Cahill from Company G

got the job that night of 6-7

August. Reinforced with a machine

gun squad and a radio operator, he

set out for the CP of the Army's

27th Infantry and then the CP of

the 2d Battalion, 5th RCT. There he

received the astonishing order that

his one platoon was to relieve the

Army's besieged company and

hold the hill by itself. Moving out

through the night of 6 August, the

Marines suffered two wounded

from fire that proved to be from

the 2d Battalion, 5th RCT. There

followed the next morning (7

August), the beginning of a hot

day, an agonizing series of hill

climbs in untempered sun which

led to heat prostration and empty

canteens, and then enemy fire on

the platoon as it staggered

upwards to the hilltop, urged on

by Cahill and his noncommissioned officers. Only 37 of the

original 52 men reached the top.

Once there, Cahill used his radio to

call his own 3d Battalion for badly

needed supporting artillery fire

and air drops of water and ammunition.

When the severity of the problems on Hill 342 became clearer,

19

Company D from Lieutenant

Colonel Harold S. Roise's 2d

Battalion was sent into action on 7

August. As the NKPA continued to

reinforce its troops, the rest of the

2d Battalion became heavily

engaged nearby. In air temperature

of 112 degrees men continually

collapsed from nausea and heat

exhaustion. Water was scarce and

the slopes of the hill seemed to go

on straight up forever. Finally, at

the end of the day (7 August),

Company D had nearly reached

the crest, but, exhausted, dug in

where it was for the night.

Meanwhile, the Army company

and Cahill's platoon on the crest

had had a brutal day. Parched for

water and completely surrounded

by enemy fire, they managed to

hang on with reinforcements now

near at hand. And so the day for

the 2d Battalion ended in a stalemate with the enemy on and

around Hill 342.

There were problems everywhere else. The 1st Battalion, 5th

Marines, under Lieutenant Colonel

George R. Newton, was backed up

in Chindong.-ni because the Army

battalion had taken the wrong

road. Taplett's 3d Battalion had

relieved a battalion of the Army's

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A413601

The pin-point attacks of their Corsairs gave the Marines invaluable close air support. Here the F4Us of VMF-323 are being loaded with rockets on board the USS
"•. '4 S

I

27th RCT the day before, but now

the latter found itself attacked as it

tried to move into reserve in the

rear. The 5th RCT was stalled.

The official Army history describes this day of 7 August perfectly when it refers to "a general

melee" amid "confusion." The

problems were compounded when

the NKPA slipped around Chindong-ni and occupied a commanding height, Hill 255, that dominated

the task force's supply road to

Masan in the rear.

Hearing of the stalled attack of

his 5th RCT, Kean was exasperated

and took prompt action. He contacted Craig, who never forgot the

day. His men were relieving the

Army's 27th RCT, with Chindong-ni

to be the jump-off point for the

Marines' attack once the Army's 5th

RCT had cleared the road intersection just ahead. Craig remembered:

"At Chindong-ni I found the most

confused situation that I've encountered in the Marine Corps . Finally, due to the inability of the

Army to clear the road junction and

the hold-up of our offensive,

General Kean put all troops in that

area under the Marine brigade

commander, and I was given the

brigade plus the [Army's] 24th

Regiment and the 5th RCT."

This took place on 7 August, and

now Craig would have to sort

things out and get the task force

moving forward. To do this, he

acted in a typical way: he went

straight to the front lines to observe

the situation first-hand. This kind of

on-the-spot leadership immediately

struck Second Lieutenant Patrick G.

Sivert, an observer overhead in an

OY. He was "amazed" on that very

first day at how close the brigade

CP was to the front lines. In contrast, he noted that "with the other

outfits in the surrounding area, it

was just the converse. Consequently, our communications, for

the most part, with the Marine units

on the ground were almost always

very good, and with the other units

almost always very bad."

When Craig went forward, he

found that the 5th RCT, under

Colonel Godwin L. Ordway, USA,

was still held up, even though

"enemy resistance was light." It was

clear to Craig that, to break the

deadlock, he would need to launch

a series of aggressive attacks by all

his ground units, with heavy

artillery and air support.

Thus, early the next morning, 8

August, Company D pushed to the

crest of Hill 342. Cahill and the battered survivors greeted them with

enormous relief. It remained, however, a touch-and-go situation.

Enemy fire was sweeping the encircled position, Marine officers were

going down, and NKPA riflemen

Exhausted due to the strenuous climb and scorching heat

Marines establish a hasty perimeter on a hillcrest west of

Chindong-ni. Chingdong-ni would be where they got their

'first taste of the enemy," whom they found to be "spirited,

tenacious, and well trained."

Department of Defense Photo (U5MC) A12036

20
were slowly and steadily worming

their way up the approaches. A

private in Company D, Douglas

Koch, felt the pressure: "I felt pretty bad. This was a very hectic time.

There'd been a lot of climbing, we

were under fire Someone

hollered that the lieutenant was

dead . . . . Firing was hot and

heavy. Guys fell around me." It

grew worse. NKPA soldiers came

right up to the Marine lines. The

firefight continued to grow in

intensity. When word was shouted

that there was a new commanding

officer, First Lieutenant Robert T.

Hanifin, Jr., it was soon followed

by the depressing news that he

had collapsed in the heat. This

passed command of the company

to a veteran gunnery sergeant.

Koch knew that there was only

one thing for him and the surrounded men to do: hang on.

One of the reasons that they

could "hang on" was that the

Marines called on a weapon that

the enemy had not previously

experienced: air strikes that were

not only immediate but also gave

truly close air support. Panels were

laid out to mark the ground positions, a radio call went to the forward air controller at battalion

headquarters (who personally

knew the pilots) and then to the

control plane in the Corsairs

already orbiting overhead. Down

they screeched, strafing and rocketing. They came close in—very

close in—to the defender's lines.

Empty shell casings from their

machine guns fell into the laps of

the men below. This was more

than the previously all-victorious

NKPA troops had bargained for.

Their firing slacked off, and the

crucial hilltop held. Some 600

enemy attackers had failed in their

attempt to cut the task force's main

supply route.

These strikes were part of

Craig's plan to push his men ahead

with continuous close air support.

In the first three days of combat,

the two Marine fighter squadrons

flew well over 100 sorties. The

squadrons had tailored their flight

schedules so that one or the other

was always overhead, ready

instantly to respond to calls for

strikes during the daylight hours.

The other planes of MAG-33

were also daily demonstrating their

worth. The OYs had bomb racks

attached to their wing struts, thus

enabling them to carry rations or

cans of water to the ground troops

panting in the heat and struggling

up the ever-present hill slopes.

This was supplemented by "daisy

chains" of South Korean laborers

who would pass up five-gallon

cans of water, along with ammunition, to the men on the hilltops.

The observation planes also

became expert at spotting artillery

fire for the 11th Marines. The OYs

slow speed proved to be a big

advantage. Sivert explained:

In this type of terrain the

enemy was so adept at camouflage that most of the time

high-performance aircraft

were just too fast to get down

and search out a target. We in

the slower moving aircraft

were able to get down much

lower, take our time in spotting a target, and then to

stand off to one side or the

other of the [bombingi runs,

and make sure the aircraft

were hitting the correct targets.

Too, we were using the

same maps that the ground

commanders were using.

They were able to give us targets and pinpoint the targets

with exact coordinates.

Another advantage of the OYs

was the ability to look down on

hills (particularly reverse slopes)

21

where the forward air controller

(FAC) with the infantry on the

ground was blocked from seeing

the enemy target. Sivert found that

a pattern of effective teamwork

developed: the FAC would call on

an OY to spot a target and give

him the direction in which the

bombing runs should be made.

Sometimes the OY would even

give the type of ammunition to be

used on the target. Then, when the

bombing runs had been completed, the OY would furnish damage

estimates to the FAC. Teamwork

was essential, since the OY could

only communicate with the aircraft

by relaying all directions through

the FAC.

Helicopters also carried precious

supply cargoes to isolated areas. In

addition, they became invaluable

in evacuating wounded riflemen.

The fighter pilots developed an

enthusiastic appreciation of these

new "birds" when they similarly

proved adept at rescuing pilots

who had been shot down.

The full 2d Battalion was consolidating its control of Hill 342 on

8 August, much to the relief of

Cahill (who received a Silver Star

for his leadership). Meanwhile, the

other rifle units of Murray's 5th

Marines were also very busy.

Taplett's 3d Battalion drew the

assignment on 7 August of driving

the enemy off the strategic Hill

255, which overlooked and

blocked the main supply route

(MSR) to the rear. The first smallscale attack on 8 August was

directed at a lower hill that would

give access to 255. It was repulsed.

The commander of Company H,

Captain Joseph C. Fegan, Jr., was

later awarded a gold star in lieu of

a second Silver Star for his bold

actions when he personally led the

next assault, after a platoon leader

refused to move (Fegan relieved

him for that). It came down to the

messy business of cleaning out
t

every attack of the nfiemen.

each enemy foxhole, one at a time,

for the NKPA troops fought to the

death. Fegan was ably assisted by

the heroics of such men as

Corporal Melvin James (Army

Distinguished Service Cross and

Silver Star), and Technical Sergeant

Ray Morgan and Private First Class

Donald Terrio (Silver Stars).

When Company H hastily dug in

for the night, Staff Sergeant James

C. Davis had his platoon in a forward position only 75 yards from

the enemy. While repairing a

defective hand grenade, it slipped

out of his grasp and dropped in

the midst of his men. A posthumous award of a Navy Cross

described his immediate reaction:

"Without a moment's hesitation, he

chose to sacrifice himself, rather

than endanger his companions,

and threw himself upon the live

grenade."

In parallel action by Company G

that day, Sergeant Jack E. Macy

would later be awarded a

Distinguished Service Cross for his

perilous rescue trips to bring

wounded men into safety. By the

end of the day, the Marines were

securely in possession of the first

hill, with 255 looming ahead. The

company had advanced more than

1,400 yards in the teeth of a fiercely resisting enemy. It had taken

nine gruelling hours with great suffering from lack of water, heat

exhaustion, and overexertion in

the stifling weather. One man in

the battalion later admitted: "Guys

almost went mad for water. I never

felt the kind of heat I felt in Korea.

I just burned up. My hands went

numb. I couldn't help myself; I

began crying like a baby. I was

ashamed. I felt I could crawl into a

mouse hole and die, but I couldn't

help what was happening to me."

This kind of water-deprivation

and dehydration in the midst of

blinding heat seriously affected the

combat strength of all of the battalions. Murray, the regimental

commander, admitted: "One time I

figured I had about at least a third

of my regiment lying at the side of

the road with heat prostration."

In spite of the gmelling physical

problems—and the fanatical resistance by the enemy—the battalion

had now successfully positioned

itself for the final lunge at Hill 255.

As Craig jockeyed his forces to

22

meet the NKPA thrusts and launch

his own attacks, Newton's 1st

Battalion was finally able to move

out of Chindong-ni early on 8

August. Its orders were to proceed

to the now-famous road fork and

take the left (south) route, while

the Army's 5th RCT was to take the

straight-ahead (west) route. Trying

to approach the junction, Newton

found that the 5th RCT was still

stalled there. The road to the fork

was jammed with soldiers and

Army vehicles; it was a scene of

"congestion and confusion." With

the advance of the Marine battalKean to Murray: send your 1st

Battalion on a night march to Hill

308 to relieve the Army battalion

that took your south road in error.

It was expected to be a dangerous

maneuver. The commander of the

Army battalion felt that his companies were "cut off' by the NKPA;

the Marines were to veer off the

main road short of the clogged

junction and file in column along

narrow dikes in a wide rice paddy,

totally exposed if fired upon; two

South Korean civilians of unknown

trustworthiness were to guide

them through the pitch black night

(since the assigned Army guide

never appeared). Newton was

deeply upset when the Army battalion prematurely withdrew from

its position without waiting for the

Marine relief force. As Andrew

Geer described this unfortunate

development in The New Breed,

"there was a display of temper"

between the two battalion commanders.

By midnight the Army troops

had cleared the rice paddy paths,

and the Marines quickly moved

out. To the gratified surprise of the

men, they encountered no enemy,

and by dawn on 9 August they

were safely assembled at the base

of Hill 308. The battalion had been

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A2262

Supporting fire from the howitzers of the 11th Marines was a crucial prelude to

ion thus

progress

blocked, the solution for

came in an order from
on the move, afoot, for 22 consecutive hours; the men were thirsty

and dog-tired, but they had carried

out the relief as ordered.

Kean, meanwhile, had not limited himself to his orders to Murray.

He had come up to the deadlock at

the junction, and his next orders

were short and to the point.

Indicating the hill that controlled

the junction to one of his battalion

commanders (who had earlier

failed to capture the hill), Kean

barked, "I want that hill tonight!" It

was finally done.

The events of 8 August were not

decisive in themselves, and did not

appear to represent any real

progress for the task force.

Nevertheless, the groundwork had

been laid, and Craig now had his

troops where they were in position

not only to crush the enemy's

offensive, but also finally to make

real progress of their own toward

the ultimate objective of Chinju.

Two of the opposing forces,

NKPA and Marine, had learned

something about each other in

these first clashes. Colonel Robert

D. Heinl, Jr., in Soldiers of the Sea

summed it up:

The Marines got their first

taste of the enemy. They

found him spirited, tenacious,

well trained, and generously

equipped with Russian gear.

Used to having the campaign

their own way, the North

Koreans fought confidently,

but reacted with considerable

surprise when they found

themselves facing troops who

gave no ground, hung on to

their weapons, and brought

in their wounded and dead.

A subsequent article in the

Marine Corps Gazette by historian

Lynn Montross analyzed the battle

skills of the NKPA this way:

23

The Marines learned to

respect a hardy enemy for his

skill at camouflage, ambush,

infiltration, and use of cover.

They learned that supporting

air and artillery fires often had

limited effect on a foe making

clever use of reverse slope

defenses to offset Marine concentrations. Thus a ridge

might protect and conceal an

enemy strong point until

attackers were too close for

supporting fires.

When this situation developed,

with the heavy firepower of the

Marines neutralized, their attack

was reduced to the familiar basic

essential of small arms fire fights.

In these circumstances, the NKPA

was able to meet them on even

terms, man-to-man.

Just as the Marines had sized up

the enemy, so, too, they had

formed their own opinion of the
Army units with whom they were

in contact. Other judgements were

also being made at this time. An

Army colonel had been sent by

General Mark Clark's Army Field

Forces Headquarters to evaluate

the units of the Eighth Army in late

July and early August. On 9 August

he made his report to Lieutenant

General Matthew B. Ridgway,

whose aide prepared a detailed 12-

point memorandum on the findings.

The report was very harsh. It is

quoted at length in a recent book

by Brigadier General Uzal W. Ent,

USA (Ret), entitled Fighting on the

Brink: Defense of the Pusan

Perimeter. The book has Ent's

summary, saying that the report

"verbally ripped the officers and

enlisted men of Eighth Army

apart." It underscored three "principal deficiencies": lack of knowledge of infantry fundamentals; lack

of leadership in combat echelons;

and the absence of an aggressive

fighting spirit.

Regardless of Army problems

and wary of a tough enemy, but

confident it could smash ahead,

the 5th Marines made real progress

on 9 August. Murray was a driver

who knew that aggressive attacks

would, in the end, reduce his casualties. Even though his 1st

Battalion had barely arrived at the

base of Hill 308, Murray radioed an

order to attack immediately. Once

again it was the familiar story of

over-tired, thirsty men staggering

up one more hill—this time after

27 hours of continuous, tense exertion. Fortunately, there was only

sniper fire and the crest was

secured, as the men collapsed on

the broiling ground.

There was to be no let-up, however, for the beat-up 1st Battalion.

Murray kept pushing. He ordered

Newton to take his men back

down from the hill they had just

24

climbed so laboriously and to

move along the south road

towards the next objective, a village called Paedun-ni. It was a

pathetic remnant that was able to

come down that hill. There were

only 30 men and two officers Out

of the whole company who were

able to make it down without collapsing. Captain John L. Tobin, in

bad shape himself, stayed with the

rest of the men on the hilltop.

Fenton painfully recalled the

scene:

The troops that had passed

out had to be left where they

had fallen, since no one had

the strength to move them.

The men who had heat prostration, but weren't out, tried

to place themselves alohg the

ridge where they could cover

their fallen buddies in case of

an enemy attack. The heat

reached 114 degrees, and I
- a.

£

Ic.

4- -s

personally don't believe that

our men on the hill could

have repulsed 10 enemy

troops.

Once Newton finally was able to

get his survivors down to the

Paedun-ni road, they were joined

by his Headquarters Company, his

Weapons Company, and a platoon

of tanks. But Newton's troubles

continued. He was stuck with

obsolete Japanese maps which frequently used different names for

towns, had no contour lines for the

hills, and were undependable as to

roads. This resulted in his taking

the wrong fork in the road shortly

after starting. Not one to be Out of

touch with his troops, Murray

appeared shortly to correct the

problem. It developed that the

maps Newton and Murray had

were each different. The upshot

was that Murray decided that the

whole column had to turn around

on the primitive narrow road,

retrace its steps, and take the other

fork. Amidst the milling in this

reversal, Newton was probably dismayed to see Craig appear on the

confused scene. The general was

not pleased, and without knowing

the background, he expressed his

thoughts in vivid language. When

the battalion finally got restarted

on the proper fQrk, Craig—another

officer who kept in close touch

with his troops—went with them

to supervise the further attack he

was planning. As evening fell, the

1st Battalion had come two miles

from its jump-off and was ordered

to dig in for the night.

Back in the zone of the 3d

Battalion, the payoff came on 9

August for the hard fight the day

before. The day began with a thorough saturation of Hill 255 by the

artillery of the 1st Battalion, 11th

Marines, under Lieutenant Colonel

Ranson M. Wood.

The artillery batteries had to

improvise their tactics during these

early days in Korea. Ironically,

they had suffered more casualties

than the riflemen when the task

force had begun its attack. Then,

to counter the skillful infiltration of

the NKPA, the three batteries

would try to set up with one aiming to the north, one to the east,

and one to the west, with protective foxholes around them.

(Because the brigade was moving

so fast, and with the penchant of

the enemy for lightning hit-and-run

tactics, the 11th Marines often

would be able to set up only one

battery for action.)

After the artillery had plastered

the enemy positions on Hill 255,

the battalion's forward air controller, First Lieutenant Daniel

Greene, got on his radio, and the

Corsairs then came wheeling in,

this time with napalm's first

scourge of the NKPA. It was a nearclassic demonstration of the

Marine concept of an air-ground

team. When the riflemen scaled

the final crest of the hill, there was

little opposition. Nevertheless, the

battles that led to the conquest of

Hill 255 had cost Company H the

loss of 25 percent of its men. When

the 3d Battalion then joined up

with part of the Army's 24th

Infantry, the threat to the rear supply route (Masan to Pusan) had

been eliminated.

With these hill captures by the

three Marine battalions, the errant

Army battalion of the 5th RCT,

which had earlier taken the wrong

fork at the junction, could now

retrace its steps and rejoin its regiment. At last the 5th RCT moved

out west towards a new objective

on the road to Chinju.

This breakup of the log jam

enabled Kean to relieve Craig of

overall command of the task force

and allowed the general to return

to his own men on the afternoon

of 9 August.

With his brigade now moving

along its designated south road,

Craig planned to exert maximum

pressure on the NKPA by having

the Marine battalions leap-frog

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A15986

Marines carefully check individual huts to successfully drive North Korean

defenders out of this village.

25
each other, pushing forward hard.

The same procedures would be

used by the companies and platoons. Whether it was advance

guard, flankers out on the sides, or

in the main column of the brigade,

all the units would rotate. This

enabled Craig to keep driving.

He had Murray pull Roise's 2d

Battalion off Hill 342, and put it on

trucks which brought it to an

assembly point near Hill 308, a

spot familiar to the 1st Battalion.

Arriving there nearly at midnight

on 9 August, Roise contemplated

his situation. He had had 9 killed,

44 wounded, and a shocking 94

cases of heat prostration, the loss

of key officers, and now his tired

men were due to lead the attack in

two hours—after the past 69 hours

of climbing, fighting, and marching. Despite all this, he was

relieved to see that the morale of

his men appeared high. Furthermore, his riflemen had been reinforced by the attachment of a battery of artillery, a platoon of the

powerful Pershing tanks, and a

75mm recoilless rifle platoon.

The attack on Paedun-ni was

only the first objective enroute to

the towns of Kosong and Sachon,

the keys to the final goal of Chinju.

Craig later described his reasoning:

This night attack was in

addition to an attack during

the day, and, although the

men were very tired and I

hesitated to carry out the

night movement, I considered that, if we could surprise

the North Koreans and keep

moving when the other

American troops had already

stopped for the night, that we

might gain some added

advantage—and this proved

to be the case. We marched

throughout the night and

gained quite a bit of distance

with only occasional shots

being fired.

Moving through the 1st

Battalion, the 2d Battalion had

pressed forward through the night

of 9-10 August, grateful that there

was no opposition. There was an

episode with a couple of tanks that

got stuck, bringing both Craig and

Murray to the spot with some

strong words to move the rest of

the column forward. By 0800 on 10

August, Roise and his men were in

Paedun-ni.

And so 9 August ended with the

Marine brigade finally all together

as a unit and really starting to roll

in high gear down the south road.

The next day (10 August) brought

some brisk action when the

retreating enemy forces picked

strategic places to delay the rapid

advance of the Marine column. As

usual, Craig had arrived at Paedunni by helicopter, and his refrain to

the troops was to move ahead with

"all speed." Accordingly, the 2d

Battalion, even though it had just

arrived, got ready to move out

quickly for Kosong. The 3d

Battalion followed.

With only a few trucks available,

part of Company D was put on

board, with the rest of the troops

marching behind. As the trucks

rolled down the road, they were

preceded by a four-jeep reconnaissance team. Some 2 1/2 miles from

Paedun-ni there was a section of

the road where it made a sharp

turn and narrowed along a defile

1,000 yards long underneath a

large hill. It was called the

Taedabok Pass, and 300 of the

NKPA were dug in and carefully

camouflaged waiting there in

ambush. Their mortars, antitank

guns, and artillery were ready to

inflict heavy casualties on any

troops who moved blindly into the

pass.

However, the advance guard of

26

the Marines was not moving blindly. Craig was well aware of the

skill of the NKPA in ambushes and

envelopments. He therefore had a

policy of using his helicopters and

OY planes to the maximum for

reconnaissance of his front and

flanks. In addition, he deployed a

reconnaissance platoon in jeeps to

scout ahead of the lead battalion.

These men, Craig commented, "on

two occasions uncovered very

strong ambushes and suffered

some casualties in getting out, but

they did protect the main column."

One of those riding in a reconnaissance jeep was a young private first class. They were rolling

happily down the road, thinking

how quiet it was, when suddenly:

The North Koreans opened

up. [They] cut up the first couple of jeeps pretty bad. My

group tumbled and ran for

the ditch. I landed calf-deep

in warm water. I heard

machine guns chattering

around me. Dirt kicked up

along the road that was now

lined with abandoned jeeps.

Sergeant Dickerson shouted over the noise, "Those

hills, the little low ones, over

to the right, we gotta get over

there. Gotta return fire from

there." I picked up my BAR

[Browning Automatic Rifle],

and, crouched over, ran down

the ditch.

At the same time an OY observation plane, flying less than 50

feet off the ground, spotted the

ambush. With all hope of trapping

the main column of Marines now

gone, the NKPA poured on the fire.

An antitank gun smashed a jeep.

Now, coming up fast and deploying in counterattack on both sides

of the road, the men of Company

D went after the high ground at
1500 that afternoon. Their 60mm

mortar fire silenced the antitank

gun, and, when two Marine

Pershing tanks arrived at 1630,

their 90mm guns, combined with

Corsair attacks, beat down the

enemy fire.

The fact that there had been any

surprise was on Murrays mind. He

said later: "We moved pretty well

along this road for a day, I guess,

when we ran into an ambush.

Shouldn't have been ambushed,

we should have discovered it, but

didn't. The advance guard failed to

spot these people and got hit.

Fortunately, though, the bulk of

the regiment didn't get involved

initially."

The ambush had delayed the

brigade, but not for long and at a

cost to the NKPA of hundreds of

dead, wrecked vehicles, and large

losses in weapons. Now the

Marines were poised to sweep into

Kosong.

Reinforcements arrived: the rest

of the 2d Battalion on foot and the

3d Battalion by truck. Murray, of

course, was there waiting for them.

He took Taplett up to the top of

one of the hills and they could see

Kosong five miles away. The regimental commander, in his usual

style, told Taplett to move his 3d

Battalion through Roise's men at

1715 and attack immediately to

clean out the pass and clear the

way to Kosong. It was an unusual

"pass through," since neither

Murray or Taplett could locate

Roise or his command post.

This order came as music to the

ears of 2d Battalion Marines. Roise

had had them moving and fighting

for 88 hours over a distance of

almost 50 miles. In spite of the

never-ending hills and oppressive

heat, the battalion had won each

of its battles and inflicted more

than 600 casualties on the enemy.

Now it could actually relax for the

moment. For the first time since

going into action, there was

enough water to drink and the

men could eat their field rations in

peace. Perspiration-soaked socks

had brought on ulcer sores on

their feet and ankles, so it was a

blessed relief to be issued clean,

dry socks.

As the 3d Battalion moved into

position for its attack, the men

were naturally concerned about

enemy.fire, but the first thing to hit

them was friendly fire. One enlisted man later recounted his reaction:

We passed through one of

the other battalions. About

5:00 in the afternoon two

American fighters [U.S. Air

Force F-51s] zoomed down

the road around 150 feet

above our heads . . . . No

matter where I ran, I couldn't

seem to find an escape. Their

.50-caliber bullets hit that

• hard, dry road and it sounded

as if each was exploding.

There was just nowhere to go

to get out of the line of fire.

Someone screamed, "Break

out the air panels! Get the air

panels!" The fighters left as

suddenly as they had arrived.

By 1830 on 10 August, the lead

platoons had jumped off in the

attack, but they soon received

heavy fire from two NKPA machine

guns hidden at the far end of the

pass. During this encounter, some

Marines at the point were wounded, and platoon leader First

Lieutenant Jack "Big Jack"

Westerman made a daring rescue

for which he was later presented a

Navy Cross. Neutralizing those

guns took the last of daylight, and

so Murray had the battalion dig in

for the night, sending men up the

dominating hills for security. First

Lieutenant Robert D. Bohn, the

commander of Company G, was

27

not very happy about that order:

"It was just contrary to everything

you're taught, to go up into

enemy-held territory at night, no

reconnaissance, nothing like that,

and hold it."

Things got worse at dawn. The

NKPA hit Bohn's company.

Because he had had to feel his way

up there in darkness, he really did

not know exactly where he and his

men were, but the enemy attack

revealed:

I was on the front line. I

was on the forward slope of

this hill, and my command

group got hit. I got wounded,

my mortar section chief got

killed, and I had a couple of

other casualties. But we were

a well-trained outfit, so we

immediately returned fire—I

think there were maybe eight

or ten of them, probably a

delaying party—and we killed

them all.

It was very close. It was

hand-grenade range and

hand-to-hand in a couple of

instances. I took handgrenade fragments in the

neck and shoulder, but they

weren't too serious. It was the

same hand grenade that killed

a Marine right next to me. I

killed the guy that threw it.

By the time the attack was finally beaten off, Bohn's cool and

decisive handling of his men

would result in the award of a

Silver Star. However, Company G,

which was due to lead the

brigade's advance the morning of

11 August, was a half hour late getting to the appointed line of departure. John Toland's history, In

Mortal Combat, records a remark

to Bohn: "Murray was furious,

'When I say 0800, I don't mean

0801!'

Company G then moved Out at a
— •,;.— "'' *..,; a... — ..- t

Sikorsky HO3S-1 Helicopter

otary-wing aircraft had come too late to have any

effect on the tactics of World War II, although a

few Sikorsky aircraft were used experimentally in

the European and Pacific theaters near the end of the

conflict. Following the war, it was the Marine Corps that

took the lead in developing techniques and procedures

for this new combat aircraft.

In February 1948, the first Sikorsky H035-1 helicopter

was delivered to the first Marine helicopter squadron,

experimental Marine Helicopter Squadron 1 (HMX-1), at

Quantico, Virginia. Three months later, the squadron

made the first helicopter troop lift in history.

Shortly after the Korean War broke Out on 25 June

1950, 7 pilots, 30 enlisted men, and 4 HO3S-1 helicopters

were detached from HMX-1 for service with the 1st

Provisional Marine Brigade. Upon arrival at Marine Corps

Air Station, El Toro, California, these elements were cornbined with 8 fixed-wing pilots, 33 enlisted men, and 4

"usable" OY-2 light observation planes to form the

brigade's air observation squadron, Marine Observation

Squadron 6 (VMO-6). The squadron's commanding officer, Major Vincent J. Gottschalk, was given just 48 hours

to weld these two elements together before being

shipped overseas.

Upon arrival in the Pusan Perimeter, VMO-6 set up its

base at Chinhae on 2 August, ready for business. There

was not long to wait. The next day, the brigade commander, Brigadier General Edward A. Craig, took off in

one of the helicopters and gave a vivid demonstration of

its versatility. In one day, he stopped to instruct a battalion, picked out the location for his forward command

post, held a conference with U.S. Army commanders,

and held three more meetings with his ground commanders.

Besides this role in command, the squadron's helicopters were "always available for observation, communications, and control." In addition, there were a wide

variety of other missions: evacuating the wounded, rescuing downed fixed-wing pilots, transporting supplies,

artillery spotting, and, scouting enemy dispositions.

During the month of August 1950, VMO-6 helicopters

amassed a total of 580 flights and the HO3S-ls chalked

up the first successful combat missions. These missions

were a harbinger of the large-scale deployments that

would come.

28

Aircraft Data

Manufacturer: Sikorsky Aircraft Division of United

Aircraft Corporation

Power Plant: Pratt and Whitney R 985 AN-7 Wasp Jr.

Engine 9 Cylinder; Radial; Fan-Cooled; 450

Horsepower

Rotor Diameter: 48': 3 Blade Composite Construction

Tail Rotor Diameter: 8'S"; All Wood; 3 Blades

Length: 41' 13/4" Without Rotor Blades

Overall Length: 57' 1/2"

Height Overall: 12' 11"

Weight Empty: 3,795 Pounds

Maximum Gross Weight: 5,300 Pounds

Cruising Speed: 85 Miles Per Hour

Maximum Speed: 103 Miles Per Hour at Sea Level

Range: 260 Miles

Service Ceiling: 13,000'

Fuel Capacity: 108 U.S. Gallons

Seating: Four including Pilot
fast clip. It would be the pace of

the point platoon which would

govern the speed of the entire

brigade. Accordingly, the advance

flankers moved at a run to keep up

with their platoon leader on the

road. He, in turn, relieved them

with fresh men as often as possible. The fast pace they set proved

invaluable when they came upon

any of the, enemy. The Marines

came to the first machine gun

emplacement lurking on the route,

and they hit it so hard and so

unexpectedly that the five NKPA

gunners were killed before they

could fire a shot. Three more

enemy positions fell to the same

aggressive tactics of the point platoon.

With this kind of speed and skill

up front, and with two Corsairs

and an OY cruising overhead looking for any trouble, the brigade

came wheeling down the road to

reach the outskirts of Kosong by

iooo. softening up any potential

defenders, the 105mm howitzers of

the 11th Marines began raining

high explosives on Kosong. This

barrage and the onrushing brigade

forced the opposing 83d

Motorcycle Regiment to pack up

and seek safety in a hasty departure.

With the flight of the main body

of the enemy, only a few snipers

remained in Kosong. Company H

passed through G and pushed

rapidly into the town. On its heels

came Taplett and Craig, with their

hands on the helm, always close to

the action. Meanwhile, Company

G raced to seize control of Hill 88

southwest of the town and dominating the road to Sachon. The

enemy was waiting there, but not

for long. The Corsairs swooped in

low with napalm, tank fire poured

in, the howitzers of the 11th

Marines blanketed the position,

and the crest was quickly taken.

It was at Kosong that there was

a clear example of the payoff from

the long years of Navy-Marine

cooperation: support of the

brigade by Landing Ship Tanks.

Craig fully realized their great

value, for they proved a ready

solution to the problem of getting

supplies by truck on primitive,

congested roads. Accordingly, he

had had his helicopters make a

reconnaissance of usable harbors

on the nearby coast. Then the LSTs

would move into a harbor that

matched the brigade's advance.

Craig described the pay-off:

When we reached Kosong,

we had an LST within six

miles of that place on a covered road where we could

unload and push forward

supplies and build up a

brigade dump at Kosong.

Wounded could be evacuated

immediately to the LST .

We always felt that we had a

mobile base of supplies

which we could bring in as

necessary and that, even

though we were separated by

long distance or cut off from

our rear base, we could

always depend on these LSTs

for supplies.

With Hill 88 secured, Craig had

Taplett pull the men of Company

G back, disregard other hills, and

concentrate for an immediate drive

by the brigade to Sachon. A pair of

NKPA antitank guns were waiting

on the route, but were discovered

when an ambulance jeep was hit

(killing a Navy corpsman). With its

location disclosed the pair was

quickly knocked out and the column surged forward, led by

Company H with the forward air

controller right up with the point

men.

A few hours later the the marching men came upon an astonisbing

sight. When the 83d Motorcycle

29

Regiment hurriedly decamped

from Kosong, its timing proved

disastrous, for, just at that juncture,

a flight of Corsairs from VMF-323

appeared on the scene. The pilots

could hardly believe the tempting

targets arrayed before their eyes,

and the slaughter began; it came to

be known as the "Kosong Turkey

Shoot." The Corsairs swung low up

and down the frantic NKPA column, raining death and destruction

in a hail of fire from rockets and

20mm cannon. With the vehicles at

the front and rear ends of its column destroyed, the enemy regiment was trapped. It was a scene

of wild chaos: vehicles crashing

into each other, overturned in

ditches, afire, and exploding;

troops fleeing for safety in every

direction. Another flight from VMF323 arrived, and, joined by U.S. Air

Force F-51s, finished off the

destruction of the trucks, jeeps,

and motorcycles. Accounts of this

NKPA debacle vary widely in their

tallies of the number of vehicles

destroyed: 100-200.

One thing was certain: when the

ground troops reached the scene,

the usable vehicles were quickly

appropriated for the transportation-starved brigade. There was, in

fact, a momentary slowdown in

the fast advance of the Marines to

stare. Joseph C. Goulden's Korea:

The Untold Story of the War pictures the scene: "Black Soviet

Army jeeps and motorcycles with

sidecars, most of which had gone

into battle in mint condition.

Looking under the hoods, the

Marines found the jeeps powered

by familiar Ford Motor Company

engines—apparent relics of

American lend-lease aid to the

Soviet Union during the Second

World War."

The Marines found other things,

too. Included in the wreckage

were American jeeps the NKPA

had captured earlier from U.S.
£4 'Yt•,

came down close to the jeep and

began firing their revolvers (the

plane's only armament) at the fleeing target. Rifle fire came back

from the jeep's front seat, but the

officer remained rigid. This continued for a 20-mile stretch with no

results. Finally, the terrified driver

took one too many looks at the

plane so close overhead, and the

jeep hurtled over a cliff. The officer

never budged from his fixed position as he plunged to his death.

Cruising the rest of the day in

advance of the brigade, Marine air

found other targets of opportunity.

Geer totalled up the results:

Score for the day to Marine

Air: vehicles (all types) destroyed, 118; supply dumps

destroyed, 2; ammunition

dumps left burning, 2; buildings housing troops destroyed, 8; southeast section of

Sachon set on fire; concentrations of troops south of

Sachon, north of Kogan-ni

and along route of withdrawal neutralized and dispersed

with heavy casualties; one

jeep presumed to be carrying

a Very Important Person,

destroyed.

Army troops, and Toland asserts

that there were duffel bags containing Russian officers' uniforms.

There was another colorful

episode which happened on the

road that led back to Sachon in the

rear of the motorcycle regiment.

Andrew Geer's The New Breed: The

Story of the US. Marines in Korea

describes how Master Sergeant

Herbert Valentine and Second

Lieutenant Patrick G. Sivert were in

an OY skimming the route when

they observed a jeep making a

high-speed getaway from the battle site. Sitting rigidly erect, arms

folded, eyes never wavering from

straight ahead, a high-ranking

NKPA officer sat unmoving in the

rear seat. The Marines in the OY

30

There was, as always, a price

the Marine aviators had to pay for

these dramatic achievements. One

pilot, Captain Vivian M. Moses, had

his Corsair shot down by ground

fire. When a helicopter from VMO6 arrived to rescue him behind

enemy lines, he was dead, the first

death for MAG-33.

Another pilot, Lieutenant Doyle

H. Cole, was luckier. Hit, his plane

made a forced landing in the nearby ocean. He climbed out onto his

emergency raft, and almost immediately a rescue helicopter appeared overhead and dropped to a

position close above him. A rope

was lowered and he was pulled up

Photo by David Douglas Duncan

Across the rice paddies and up the endless hills, it was always on foot
to safety. Glancing at the white

hair of his rescuer, Cole slapped

the old timer on the shoulder and

said, "Thanks for the lift, buddy!" A

second glance gave Cole a start.

He saw the star on the dungarees

and realized that it was Craig. An

embarrassed, "Thank you, sir,"

blurted out, followed by a relaxed

reply, "Glad to be of service,

Lieutenant."

Down on the road, the brigade

sped forward. Taplett and his air

controller were up front with the

lead platoon, and any time enemy

resistance developed, in came the

Corsairs. This immediacy of support was due to three factors. First,

the Marines had been able to keep

control of their own aviation, as

MacArthur had promised Craig.

Secondly, there were no upper

echelons of command to delay

strike requests. Each battalion and

the regiment had its own tactical

air control party. These control

parties each consisted of an officer

and six enlisted men; they each

used a radio jeep and portable

radios for direct orders to the

planes. They worked with pilots

who had had infantry training and

had been carefully briefed on the

ground situation. In addition, the

brigade staff had an air section

using four different radio networks

for overall coordination, plus an

observation section which used the

OYs and helicopters of VMO-6 to

pinpoint enemy targets for the Corsairs and control parties. Thirdly,

the Marine fighter squadrons were

very close by, based on the jeep

carriers just offshore. Thus they

could be overhead in minutes,

rather than finally arriving from

bases in Japan with only enough

fuel for 15 minutes' support, which

was the predicament of the U.S.

Air Force.

As 11 August drew to a close,

Taplett, after nearly being shot by

an enemy soldier "playing possum," deployed his 3d Battalion on

two hills by the road and had them

dig in for the night. Sachon lay

ahead, only a day's march away.

The men felt good. They were

making rapid progress. As the official Marine history noted: "the

enemy seemed to be disorganized

if not actually demoralized. For the

first time since the invasion began,

a sustained Eighth Army counterattack had not only stopped the Red

Korean steamroller but sent it into

reverse."

In this happy frame of mind, the

brigade got moving again early on

the morning of 12 August. Enemy

opposition was light, and the 1st

Battalion in the lead quickly

leaped forward 11 miles. Fenton

noted that "the boys took quite a

bit of pride in the fact that we had

done all this moving on foot, while

Army units moved mostly by

motor. Morale was very high

There was evidence of considerable enemy disorganization . We had them on the run and wanted to finish them off." By noon the

brigade was only four miles from

Sachon, and Chinju lay just eight

miles beyond that. According to

Geer, when a NKPA major was

captured, he confessed, "Panic

sweeps my men when they see the

Marines with the yellow leggings

coming at them."

Things looked good—too good.

The old hands knew that something unpleasant always followed

the good times. And so it did. With

men from the Reconnais-sance

Company on the alert out front,

Company B of the 1st Battalion

poked its nose into a valley with a

small village called Changchon.

The Marines took a few shots at a

pair of disappearing enemy soldiers, the first they had seen all

day. The reply was thunderous.

From the hills ahead and on either

side of the road all hell broke

loose, as 500 of the NKPA poured

31

in fire from carefully camouflaged

positions above the Marines. The

enemy had brought up reinforcements from Sachon during the preceding night and set up an ambush

here with the surviving members

of the 83d Motorcycle Regiment

and part of the 2d Battalion, 15th

Regiment. The reconnaissance men

had caused the trap to be sprung

prematurely, before the whole

Marine column could be caught in

the heavy crossfire. Company B

immediately rushed to help its

reconnaissance men, but it was

quickly pinned down by the

avalanche of fire. An article by

Fenton in the November 1951

Marine Corps Gazette told how its

commander, Captain John L.

Tobin, took his runners and headed forward, but halfway there:

An enemy machine gun

took them under fire, pinning

them down in the rice paddy.

Things were pretty hot, and

Tobin noticed one of the runners shaking like an old

Model-T Ford. He asked the

Marine what was wrong and

the boy replied that he was

scared. Tobin put a big scowl

on his face and replied, "Lad,

Marines are never scared."

Just then the enemy machine

gunner got the range and was

really kicking up the water

and mud around them. Tobin

turned to the runner and

quickly added, "I see your

point now. Let's get the hell

out of here!"

The Corsairs and their napalm

were called in, and, with their support, then fire from the tanks'

90mm guns, 4.2-inch mortars, and

battalion artillery, the rest of the

battalion cleaned the enemy off

one hill after another in a hard

four-hour battle. There was aggressive action by the rest of the
Marine column, and a squad leader

in the 3d Battalion, Corporal

Donald D. Sowl, was later awarded the Army's Distinguished

Service Cross by order of General

MacArthur.

There was a final flourish at the

end of the day. A number of the

enemy was spotted sneaking up

the reverse slope of one of the

hills. A veteran noncommissioned

officer took a squad, deployed

them along the ridgeline, and told

them to wait silently. When the

NKPA soldiers got within 75 feet,

the sergeant gave his men the signal, and they poured out a sheet of

fire. All 39 of the attackers were

killed instantly, except for the officer leading them who was wounded and captured. Turned over to

South Korean police to take back

to the battalion CP for interrogation, the enemy officer did not survive the trip. As Geer wryly

observed: "In the future they [the

Marines] would conduct their own

prisoners to the rear."

With all units dug in for the

night, a rice paddy area of 1,000

yards between the two companies

of the 1st Battalion was covered by

the preregistered fire of mortars

and artillery in case the enemy had

any thoughts of a night attack. The

brigade had now covered 29 miles

of road (and much more counting

the interminable distances up and

down hills) in four short days. It

had defeated the NKPA in every

encounter, and here it was poised

for the short step into Sachon. Next

stop after that was the final objective, Chinju, now within easy reach

of the hard-hitting brigade. Again,

things looked good—too good.

This time the surprise came not

from the NKPA in front but from

the U.S. Army in the rear. Craig

had received orders from Kean late

in the morning of the day just

ended, 12 August, to send without

32

delay a reinforced battalion all the

way back to the original starting

point of the task force's drive,

Chindong-ni. The Army's 5th RCT

was in trouble again; its "push"

towards Chinju had totally bogged

down in what one account called

"an epic disaster." With only two

battalions left, Craig noted in his

understated way that "the consequence was that our right flank.

was exposed. There were many

North Korean troops in that area,

and we were, more or less, out on

a limb at Sachon." Now the NKPA

was cutting the main supply route

behind the 5th RCT, and three batteries of the 555th and 90th Field

Artillery Battalions had been completely overrun by the enemy. The

Marine battalion was urgently

needed to rescue the survivors

from the shambles and restore the

tactical situation.

The call from Kean began a hectic afternoon for Craig. Lynn
.\ Relief Force

Montross in his book, Cavalry of

the Sky, stressed the crucial mobility Craig enjoyed by repeated use

of the helicopter. In a single afternoon, he took off from his CP at

Kosong, then made two landings

to give orders to his regimental

commander, Murray, and to Taplett

for the roadlift of the 3d Battalion

to the crisis spot. Montross continued the story:

Next, he spotted two

columns of Marine trucks

from the air and landed twice

more to direct them to dump

their loads and provide transportation for the troops. His

G-3 [operations officer] and

the battalion commander had

meanwhile been sent ahead

by helicopter to reconnoiter

the objective area and plan

for the Marines to deploy and

attack upon arrival. Owing to

these preparations, the assault

troops seized part of the

enemy position before darkness.

This fluid movement of Craig's

enabled him, as a finale, to

observe the start of the sunset

attack enroute to a conference

with Kean at Masan. While there

he got the disheartening news that

Walker wanted him to withdraw

the brigade at daybreak. It was a

gloomy ride for Craig back to his

CP where he landed in early darkness.

The meeting with Kean not only

confirmed the overwhelming problems of the 5th RCT, but also

brought still more ominous news.

The operations of Task Force Kean

had been in the far southwestern

sector of the Pusan Perimeter. Now

the NKPA had crossed the Naktong

River in the west center of the

perimeter, broken the Army's lines,

and were threatening to unhinge

the entire defense of the peninsula. It was a time of real crisis, and

Walker was calling on his battleproven "fire brigade" to save the

situation. This presented Craig

with an even bleaker picture: he

had to pull the rest of his brigade

out of its successful drive toward

Sachon and rush it north to stem

the enemy breakthrough.

Withdrawal in the face of an

aggressive enemy is one of the

more difficult military operations.

Newton, commander of the 1st

Battalion, had gotten the word

from Murray at midnight on 12

August to withdraw his men from

their hilltop positions and form up

on the road below at 0630 the following morning. There trucks

would move them to their next

combat assignment—unknown, as

usual, to the men who would do

the fighting.

Before it could get to the road,

as the 1st Battalion was preparing

to evacuate its positions on Hill

202, it was hit by a heavy assault.

The veteran soldiers of the 6th

Infantry Division were experts at

night attacks, and at 0450 they

struck. It was close-in work. For a

while, the outcome was in doubt.

Separated from Company A,

Company B was on its own. Its

entire left flank was overrun, the

communications wire was cut, and

two Marine machine guns were

captured and turned on the company. Fighting back face-to-face,

the Marines called in fire from their

81mm and 4.2-inch mortars,

together with artillery and 3.5-inch

rocket rounds that pinpointed the

enemy with fire barely in front of

the defenders. Finally, at dawn, the

situation was stabilized.

There now occurred "one of the

most demoralizing incidents in

Company B's experience for the

entire campaign," as Fenton later

commented. Tobin was ready at

first light to move back and recover the wounded and missing men,

33

just as Marine tradition (and Craig)

had promised. It was not to be.

Iron-clad orders from Walker to

Craig to Murray to Newton forced

an immediate withdrawal, in spite

of Tobin's pleadings.

Fenton summarized the unanimous feeling:

Twenty-nine bloody, sweating miles down the drain. . The men couldn't believe it. I

couldn't believe it. It didn't

seem possible, with all the

lives we'd lost taking this

ground, that we'd now just

walk off and leave it. Baker

Company's casualties for the

morning's counterattack alone

were 12 dead, 16 wounded,

and 9 missing in action. And

I'm certain those last nine

were dead, too.

I found it difficult to see

men, veterans of the last war,

older guys, sitting by the side

of the road crying. They just

didn't give a hoot. They were

tired, disgusted. People just

couldn't understand this part

of the war.

Leaving the 1st and 2d Battalions temporarily in the positions

they had won in the Changchon

area, Craig moved quickly on 12

August to organize the deployment

of his 3d Battalion as a relief force

for the overrun Army field artillery

battalions. The orders from Kean

had come at 1130 and by 1300 the

riflemen and an artillery battery

were in the trucks, on their way. A

half hour later Taplett and the

brigade operations officer, Lieutenant Colonel Stewart, were airborne to scout the disaster area by

helicopter. They saw plenty of

trouble: artillery pieces in disarray;

jeeps on fire; American bodies

lying in a stream bed; and, incon-
gruously, one white table set in the

midst of it all. The Army had "estimated" that 2,000 to 2,500 NKPA

troops had infiltrated the area,

smashed the Army artillery units,

and were threatening the main

supply route, so Taplett had originally presumed that there would

be heavy combat for his battalion

when it arrived. At the scene he

saw no evidence of any such

quantity of NKPA, and he strongly

doubted the estimate.

The chaotic situation the

Marines now saw had its roots in

the events of the preceding day,

11 August. Without opposition,

the 5th RCT had advanced just

five miles from where it had started at the infamous road junction

to a small village called Pongamni. The 555th "Triple Nickel" and

90th Field Artillery Battalions

were in support, but were not

protected or prepared for an

enemy attack.

Marine procedures were much

different. Craig later commented

on this:

The artillery had been

trained in Pendleton in the

methods of security. They

were armed with bazookas,

.50 calibers, and everything

that the infantrymen would

need to defend a position,

and they were well trained in

defense of their artillery positions. And they from that

[first] day on took up defensive positions wherever they

moved.

As a result we never had a

gun overrun. There were

attempts at sniping and so

forth, but we never had a

gun taken or overrun; whereas I notice that the Army on

a number of occasions in the

perimeter lost whole batteries. It was simply, I think,

because the artillerymen

were not trained along the

same lines as the Marines.

At this time, Kean was under

heavy pressure from Walker to get

the 5th RCT to leap ahead. So the

division commander ordered his

regimental commander (Colonel

Godwin L. Ordway) to move part

of his units quickly forward

through the pass near Pongam-ni.

Then there was indecision, delay,

conflicting orders, and repeated

failures in radio communications.

As a result, part of the regiment

went through the pass that night,

and part stopped at Pongam-ni.

With his command thus split up,

and with enemy fire falling on the

supply route to his rear, Ordway

was in a difficult situation. It got

worse after midnight on 11 August

when telephone and radio communications with the artillery battalions was lost and the sounds of

battle came from their direction.

With the NKPA now on the high

ground above him, Ordway decided at 0400 on 12 August to try to

move the rest of his troops through

the pass. A massive traffic jam

ensued. As the official Army history noted: "During the hour or more

before daylight, no vehicle in

Ordway's range of vision moved

more than 10 or 20 feet at a time."

As the infantry slowly moved

out, the enemy quickly moved into

the valley. Now the Army artillery;

stalled behind the traffic jam, was a

sitting duck. NKPA tanks and selfpropelled guns were able to

"approach undetected and unopposed, almost to point-blank

range, and with completely disastrous effects." Enemy infantry from

the 13th Regiment of the 6th

Division closed in and added its

firepower. It was a slaughter, and

the artillery was completely overrun. A traumatic phone call from

Brigadier General George B. Barth,

USA, the 25th Division artillery

34

commander, to Kean revealed the

scope of the disaster and led Kean

to order the rescue mission by the

3d Battalion, 5th Marines.

Kean also ordered a battalion of

the 24th Infantry to bring relief by

an attack towards Pongam-ni. This

effort went nowhere on 12 August,

and by the next day it was still two

and a half miles from the artillery

positions. The 555th had lost six of

its 105mm howitzers, and the 90th

had lost all six of the 155mm howitzers in one of its batteries. Along

with some 300 men, probably 100

vehicles had been captured or

destroyed (although the NKPA

claimed an inflated 157 vehicles

and 13 tanks). The Army had given

the site the name "Bloody Gulch."

This was the grim situation that

Taplett faced when his helicopter

arrived on 12 August. He immediately had the aircraft land and he

looked for the liaison officer who

was supposed to meet him, now

that he was coming under the

operational control of the Army's

25th Infantry Division. No sign of

any such person.

To try to get some information,

Taplett was finally able to tap into

a telephone line to the division

headquarters in the rear and ask

for orders. The reply was to "do

what he thought was proper." That

vague verbal order was all the leeway Taplett needed for immediate

action. A helicopter reconnaissance was followed by a juncture

with his troops. Then he led them

by air to the valley from where he

planned to attack the commanding

ridges.

Less than three hours after

boarding their trucks, the men of

the 3d Battalion were at their

assembly area, ready to jump off in

an attack on a cold, rainy, miserable day. Taplett aggressively

delayed only 15 minutes for an

artillery preparation and some

napalm runs by Marine Corsairs,
and then moved out the riflemen.

Without a single casualty, they

soon reached the top of the first

ridge. There they found signs that

a substantial body of enemy troops

had made a hasty departure, but

this was a far cry from the resistance they had expected from the

"2,000" or so enemy troops that

Ordway had estimated had

wreaked such havoc.

At 1900 Barth arrived to take

command. Not knowing Taplett's

style, he asked when the Marines

would be ready to attack. Taplett

presumably enjoyed a response

one can easily imagine, "Sir, we've

already done that, and my men are

now digging in on top of the

ridge." Barth graciously congratulated him.

The next morning, 13 August,

the 3d Battalion attacked to secure

the final ridges overlooking the

pitiful remnants of the lost artillery.

Again, there was no opposition,

and by 1000 they were on top of

their objectives. Craig later commented: "We found quite a number

of Army artillerymen scattered

through the area, hiding in various

places." Besides those rescued by

the Marines, some had fled and

struggled back to safety with the

25th Division.

Taplett's men were now ready

to go down, clean out any enemy,

and retrieve the artillery pieces in

the valley, but the Marines once

more got orders that they could

not take the objective they were

poised to seize, but must, instead,

move to the rear to meet the new

enemy threat along the Naktong.

That marked the final episode in

the Marine mission to aid the

Army's 5th RCT. With all troops,

Marine and Army, now pulled

back to their starting point at

Chindong-ni, it was the end of the

offensive to occupy Chinju and, on

16 August, Task Force Kean was

dissolved.

Things had gone badly for the

5th RCT and its artillery, and the

commanding officers of the regiment and the "Triple Nickel" battalion were both relieved of duty.

Higher Army echelons were not

pleased with their leadership or

the morale and combat effectiveness of their men.

Craig, on the other hand, was

pleased. He had seen his brigade

drive forward with vigor and professional skill. His officers were

constantly aggressive, and the riflemen had done very well under

fire. He noted that his men were

"well trained and well led" by outstanding noncommissioned officers and "professional" officers

who "knew their stuff." The reason

for the brigade's achievements

were clear to Craig:

We were a generation of

officers who grew up with the

Marine Corps' standing operating procedures (SOPs) for

amphibious operations. These

were my "Bible" when I organized and trained an earlier

Marine brigade on Guam during the period 1947-1949.

During World War II we had

repeatedly tested and refined

our organization and techniques in landings all over the

Pacific. These same SOPs

enabled us to deploy to

Korea quickly and fight effectively when we got there.

Equally important, the supporting arms had coordinated well

with the infantrymen, with the

close air support of MAG-33

demonstrating a wholly new element in the Korean War, flying

more than 400 sorties in support of

the brigade and other units of the

Eighth Army. The Marines had

twice been on the verge of seizing

35

their objectives—first at SachonChinju and then the recovery of

the Army artillery—only to be

pulled back by the strategic needs

of the Eighth Army. Geer in his

account concluded:

The brigade came out of

Changallon [Changchonl

physically tough and psychologically hard . . . . They

knew the enemy to be a

vicious, skillfully led and

well-equipped foe that could

inflict heavy casualties in any

action. They were prepared

to meet with heavy losses and

to carry on the attack, and

were openly scornful of units

unable to face these hard

facts of war.

There had been a price, however. The brigade had had a total of

315 casualties, with 66 killed or

died of wounds, 240 wounded,

and 9 missing in action (when the

1st Battalion had not been allowed

to recover them).

The action of that week had

brought results on a wider, strategic scale. While there had been a

failure to occupy Chinju, Task

Force Kean had nevertheless been

the first real American offensive of

the Korean War. In a report to the

United Nations, General MacArthur

stated that "this attack not only

secured the southern approaches

to the beachhead, but also showed

that the North Korean forces will

not hold under attack."

The official Army history

acknowledged in summary that

"the task force had not accomplished what Eighth Army had

believed to be easily possible—the

winning and holding of the Chinju

pass line," and, omitting any reference to the dramatic advance of

the Marine brigade, admitted that

the rest of the task force, "after a

week of fighting, . . . was back
lv. C

approximately in the positions

from which it had started its

attack." That history, however,

went on to note "certain beneficial

results . . . . It chanced to meet

head-on the North Korean 6th

Division attack against the Masan

position, and first stopped it and

then hurled it back . . . . Task

Force Kean also gained the time

needed to organize and wire in the

defenses that were to hold the

enemy out of Masan during the

critical period ahead."

The official Marine history could

afford to be positive about the

brigade's achievements:

The Communist drive in

this sensitive area came closest of all NKPA thrusts to the

vital UN supply port of Pusan.

Up to that time the NKFA

units spearheading the

advance—the 6th Infantry

Division and the 83d

Motorcycle Regiment—had

never suffered a reverse

worth mentioning since the

outset of the invasion. Then

the counterattack by the 1st

Provisional Marine Brigade

hurled the enemy back 26

miles in 4 days from the

Chindong-ni area to Sachon.

It was estimated that the

Marine air-ground team killed

and wounded 1,900 of the

enemy while destroying nearly all the vehicles of an NKPA

motorized battalion in addition to infantry armament and

equipment. The enemy threat

in this critical area was nullified for the time being, and

A Marine skirmish line attacking over exposed ground to a nearby treeless hillcrest. Photo by David Douglas l)uncari

36
Interlude

never again became so serious. Marine efforts assisted

Army units of Task Force

Kean in taking new defensive

positions and defending them

with fewer troops, thus freeing some elements for

employment on other fronts.

Finally, the Marines earned

more time and space for the

building up of Eighth Army

forces in preparation for a

decisive UN counteroffensive.

With the conclusion of the drive

towards Sachon, the Marines

hoped for a respite before the next

call to combat, which they knew

was sure to come. Craig, however,

had received orders at 0130, 14

August, to move his brigade as

soon as possible to a place called

Miryang. Using rail, trucks, and

even an LST, his battalions made

the trip of 75 miles in 26 hours.

When the "Fire Brigade" arrived

there, it was desperately needed in

a new crisis.

Before the men moved out for

combat, there was one blessed—

though brief—interlude of relaxation: Marines from the rear, from

staff positions, even tankers and

artillerymen, were fed into the

depleted rifle companies. (Another

of the many times when there was

a vital payoff for the Marine

maxim, roughly: "No matter what

your ultimate assignment may be,

you will be trained first as a rifleman!") There was a pleasant grove

of trees at Miryang, and the men

could rest in the shade, get their

first-ever bath in the river there,

eat their first hot food, and

exchange filthy, rotted uniforms

far a fresh issue. Fegan commented: "Not only did I smell to high

heaven, I also had dried blood all

over my jacket."

That rest period was soon over.

Upon arrival at Miryang, the

brigade was placed under the

operational control of the Army's

24th Infantry Division to meet a

new threat. The situation was

indeed critical. Ten days before,

author Russell Spurr asserts,

General Kim Chaek, front commander of the NKPA, had

addressed his staff. Moving from

the past (Sachon) battle to the

forthcoming (Naktong) attack, he

reputedly acknowledged that losses had been heavy, with the 6th

Division "reduced by half in the

past week." He then went on to

issue a clarion call for victory:

The situation is not irretrievable. We have committed

only a portion of our

strength. I am therefore

ordering the 4th Guards

Division to cross the Naktong

River north of the present

battlefield, capture Yongsan,

and drive on to Miryang. This

as you can see from the map,

will sever the main supply

route between Pusan and

U.S. headquarters in Taegu; if

we succeed, and I trust we

shall, the northern part of the

perimeter will collapse. It is

defended largely by puppet troops and we know how

they react when outflanked.

The commander of the 4th

Division was Major General Lee

Kwon Mu, a hardened professional who had fought with the

Communists in China and served

as a lieutenant in the Russian

Army. Awarded North Korea's

highest military decorations, the

Order of Hero of the Korean

Democratic People's Republic, and

the National Flag, First Class, for

his earlier triumphs in South

37

Korea, Mu had moved his 7,000

men into position on 4 August for

a crucial attack across the Naktong

River. The 4th Division was a

crack unit, given the honorary title

of the "Seoul" Division for its triumphant earlier capture of the

capital of South Korea. Leading

the way were the 4th, 16th, and

18th Infantry Regiments. They had

moved stealthily into action the

night of 5 August, wading across

the Naktong under cover of darkness, while machine guns were

pulled along on crude rafts. By the

morning of 6 August, 1,000 of

them had established a position

on the east side, soon beefed up

by artillery brought across the

Naktong on a hidden, underwater

bridge the NKPA had secretly constructed. This assault had meant

the breaching of the last natural

barrier which was counted on to

protect the vital lifeline from

Taegu to Pusan. It was at Taegu

that General Walker had his headquarters for direction of the

defense of the Pusan Perimeter.

This attack had come as a surprise to Brigadier General John H.

Church, commander of the 24th

Infantry Division. The subsequent

threat was obvious. From the hills

the NKPA had seized it dominated

the road to Yongsan, five miles

away. Twenty-five miles beyond

that lay Mityang, and then the vital

Pusan-Taegu main supply route

(MSR). As Toland recorded: "Panic

reached the government offices in

Taegu." Walker, however, had

remained cool, and the Army had

entered a period of continuous

battle. Some units were overrun

and some soldiers had fled as

NKPA soldiers appeared on flanks

and rear. In a confusing period of

separate confrontations, Army

troops had been unable to push

the NKPA here, and at another

point in the north, back across the

Naktong.

Enemy Breakthrough
Fire Brigade': Crisis Number 1\vo

That was when Walker called in

the Marines. Thus, on 15 August,

Craig met with Church. Walker had

earlier told Church, "I am going to

give you the Marine Brigade. I

want this situation cleaned up—

and quick!" Craig made his plans

following his meeting with Church.

The brigade would move out of

Miryang on 16 August to go on the

attack. Geer records a British military observer who saw them getting started and sent a dispatch to

Tokyo. He emphasized a "critical"

situation in which Milyang could

well be lost, then Taegu would

become untenable, and "we will

be faced with a withdrawal from

Korea." In spite of these grim

prospects, he got a premonition

38

about the brigade. In spite of the

"impossible odds" that he felt it

faced, he described his gut feeling

that it would check the NKPA

advance:

I realize my expression of

hope is unsound, but these

Marines have the swagger,

confidence and hardness that

must have been in Stonewall

Jackson's Army of the

Shenandoah. They remind me

of the Coldstreams at Dunkerque. Upon this thin line of

reasoning, I cling to the hope

of victory.

That night, the tone of the attack

was set when Murray told Newton:

"You must take that ground tomorrow! You have to get on that ridge

and take it! Understood?" Newton

replied: "Understood! Understood!

This battalion goes only one

way—straight ahead!"

The brigade was to jump off at

0800 on 17 August as part of a

planned full-scale effort by the

Army's 24th Division, reinforced

by the 9th Infantry Regiment.

There was a happy history of linkage between the Marines and the

9th Infantry. They had served

together in the battle for Tientsin

during the Boxer Rebellion in

China at the turn of the century,

and again in the 2d Infantry

Division in France during World

War I. Now the 9th would operate

on the brigade's right, with the

Marines as the left wing of the

attack. Three objective lines were

assigned to the brigade, with the

first being Obong-ni Ridge. Craig

and Murray made an on-the-spot

reconnaissance of the terrain

which was a jumbled mass of hills

and gullies. Because of the type of

terrain to the left and the presence

of the Army's 9th Regiment to the

right, the only, reluctant choice

was a frontal attack.
-t - -

p

- -• V;

action against anyone who

shows weakness.

tion.

The shift to the new crisis area

was a pressure-laden one for the

Marines. Stewart, Craig's operations officer (G-3), remembered in

later years that he was advised that

the Naktong River line had been

broken through, threatening the

Pusan-Taegu MSR, and the brigade

had to move there immediately to

restore the front. He recalled:

Things were so hectic that

Roise, who was commanding

the 2d Battalion, which was

going on the line below

Masan in a defensive position,

received minimum orders to

move. In fact, our radio contact was out and I wrote on a

little piece of brown paper,

"These are your trucks, move

to Naktong at once."

Those were the only orders

Roise ever got to move to the

Naktong front. But they were all he

needed in the hectic situation in

which the Marines found themselves, for, when only a portion of

the promised trucks showed up,

many men in the battalion had to

march until 0130 the next morning

to reach the jump-off point for

their attack a few hours later.

Waiting for the Marines, well

dug-in and confident of victory,

were the 18th Regiment and a battalion of the 16th Regiment of the

NKPA 4th Division. Geer quotes a

speech by Colonel Chang Ky Dok,

the regiment's veteran commanding officer:

Intelligence says we are to

expect an attack by American

Marines. To us comes the

honor of being the first to

defeat these Marines soldiers.

We will win where others

have failed. I consider our

positions impregnable. We

occupy the high ground and

they must attack up a steep

slope. Go to your men and

tell them there will be no

retreat. I will take instant

39

Preparation by supporting units

for the Marine riflemen's attack

was inadequate. Artillery fire was

ineffective. When the enemy positions were later examined, the foxholes were found to be very deep,

sited along the length of the ridge

slightly on the reverse slope. Thus

shelifire on the forward slopes

caused few casualties, nor could

artillery get a trajectory to reach

the enemy on the reverse slopes.

Adding to the problem, there was

only one air strike, Moreover, there

would be little or no natural cover

for the men who had to climb

toward the six hills of Obong-ni,

called by the news correspondents

"No Name Ridge."

Murray had an agreement with

the Army's 9th Infantry on the right

flank that the Marines would attack

first, supported by fire from the

9th. He picked Roise's 2d Battalion

to lead off. It was a very thin front

line for such a crucial moment:

four understrength platoons totaling only 130 men from Companies

D and E to lead the assault (with

two platoons as reserves). "Red

Slash Hill" was to be their dividing

line.

One platoon of Company E, led

by Second Lieutenant Nickolas D.

Arkadis, hit the village of Obong-ni

at the foot of two of the company

objectives: Hills 143 and 147.

Driving ahead through heavy fire,

the platoon fought its way to the

slopes beyond. Arkadis' leadership

was later recognized by the award

of a Silver Star.

Now both companies were out

in the open, sometimes forced to

crawl upwards, met with a continuous hail of enemy machine gun

and mortar fire with barrages of

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A2246

Marches had the men well spaced out to avoid unnecessary casualties. As this

column heads toward its objective, the man second from the rear carries aflame

thrower, while the man in front of him has a 3.5-inch rocket launcher. This picture was taken during a Naktong battle, showing a burning enemy tank, with

the Marines carefully circling around it to avoid any explosion of its ammuni-
grenades. Casualties mounted

rapidly. Joseph C. Goulden tells of

a correspondent who was watching and described the bloody

scene: "Hell burst around the

Leathernecks as they moved up

the barren face of the ridge.

Everywhere along the assault line,

men dropped. To continue looked

impossible. But, all glory forever to

the bravest men I ever saw, the

line did not break. The casualties

were unthinkable, but the assault

force never turned back. It moved,

fell down, got up and moved

again."

One platoon of Company D,

with only 15 men remaining, did

claw its way to the top of Hill 109

on Obong-ni Ridge, but it was too

weak and too isolated when reinforcements simply could not reach

it, so it had to pull back off the

crest. Second Lieutenant Michael J.

Shinka, the platoon leader, later

gave the details of that perilous

struggle:

Running short of ammo

and taking casualties, with

the shallow enemy slit trenches for cover, I decided to fall

back until some of the fire on

my left flank could be

silenced. I gave the word to

withdraw and take all wounded and weapons. About

three-quarters of the way

down, I had the men set up

where cover was available. I

had six men who were able

to fight.

I decided to go forward to

find out if we had left any of

our wounded. As I crawled

along our former position (on

the crest of Hill 109), I came

across a wounded Marine

between two dead. As I

grabbed him under the arms

and pulled him from the foxhole, a bullet shattered my

chin. Blood ran into my

throat and I couldn't breathe.

Shinka, after being hit again, did

manage to survive, and was later

awarded a Bronze Star Medal.

Another Company D Marine, Staff

Sergeant T. Albert Crowson, singlehandedly silenced two deadly

machine gun emplacements and

was awarded the Army's

Distinguished Service Cross by

order of General MacArthur.

By now, it had become clear

that many of the casualties were

caused by heavy enemy fire coming from the zone in front of the

Army's 9th Regiment to hit the

flank and rear of the Marines, and

there had been no supporting fire

from the 9th. Other problems arose

when some men of Company E

were nearing the crest which was

their objective and they were hit

by white phosphorus shells from

"friendly" artillery fire. Then, later,

some Marines were hit in a strafing

attack by their own Corsairs.

By mid-day the men of the 2d

Battalion, halfway up the hills,

could do no more, having suffered

142 casualties, 60 percent of their

original 240 riflemen. Murray

ordered it to pull back, undoubtedly lamenting the fact that he did

not have a third rifle company in

the battalion, for it might well have

seized the top of the ridge and

held it. Craig stressed this point in

a later interview, noting that "without a third company, or maneuver

element, the battalion commanders

were at a tactical disadvantage in

every engagement. They lacked

flexibility in the attack. On defense

they had to scrape up whatever

they could in order to have a

reserve."

Pinpointing an example, Craig

recalled:

This condition became critical in the First Battle of the

Naktong. 2d Battalion, 5th

Marines' assault companies

took heavy losses in the initial

attack against Obong-ni

Ridge, the strongpoint of the

enemy's bridgehead over the

Naktong. Since Roise had

nothing left to use, the attack

stalled.

Murray then had to commit

1/5 [the 1st Battalion] prematurely to continue the attack.

This took time, giving the

enemy a breather right at the

height of the battle. That

night, when the enemy hit

our positions on the ridge

with a heavy counterattack,

A Marine tank bulldozer clears a destroyed NKPA T-34 tank from the road.

National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A1338

40
Newton certainly could have

used another company on

line or in reserve. We were

spread pretty thin, and it was

nip and tuck on that ridge for

several more hours.

The original battle plan had

called for an attack in a column of

battalions, with each battalion taking successively one of the series

of three ridge lines (objectives 1, 2,

and 3) that shielded the NKIA river

crossing It was now painfully obvious that a sharp change must be

made. Accordingly, Newton's 1st

Battalion relieved the battered 2d

on the hillsides at 1600 (17

August), with Company A replacing E, and B replacing D.

While the 18th Regiment had hit

the 2d Battalion hard, the bravery,

skill, and determination of those

Marines had caused serious losses

in the enemy's ranks: 600 casualties and severe reductions in serviceable weapons. With his ammunition running low and no medical

supplies so that most of his

wounded men were dying, the

NKPA commander's situation was

critical, as described by Fehrenbach:

He knew he could not

withstand another day of

American air and artillery

pounding and a fresh Marine

assault up the ridge. Because

he had a captured American

SCR-300 radio, tuned in on

Marine frequencies, he knew

that the 1st Battalion had

relieved 2/5 along the front of

Ohong-ni, and he knew

approximately where the

companies of 1/5 were located, for the Marines talked a

great deal over the air.

41

The relief movement of the two

battalions was covered by what the

official Marine history described as

"devastating fires" from the planes

of MAG-33, the artillery of the 1st

Battalion, 11th Marines, and the

brigade's tank battalion. Then

Companies A and B attacked up

the daunting slopes. Simultaneously, after Murray had gone

to see Church to request a change

in the previously agreed-upon

plan, the 9th Infantry jumped off in

an attack. This eliminated the previous flanking fire on the Marines.

Helped by the advance bombardment, the two Marine companies were able to make slow (and

costly) progress towards the crests.

Company A attacked repeatedly,

trying to reach the battalion's

objective on the left: the tops of

Hills 117 and 143. It proved impos1st NAKTONG COUNTEROFFENSIVE

SITUATION 18 AUG. - OBJ. 1(OBONG-NI)

MARINE FRONT LINES:

BEFORE NK. COUNTERATTACK

AFTER N.K. COUNTERATTACK •.....

100 50 0

N.K. RETREAT

(DAWN)
sible, in spite of very aggressive

leadership by the officers (and

gunnery sergeants who replaced

them as they fell). The company

could get only part way up the

slopes when it was "pinned down

by a solid sheet of Communist fire

casualties bled Ethel skirmish

line white and finally brought it to

a stop."

Herbert R. Luster, a private first

class in Company A, remembered

his own searing experience in this

brutal battle:

It was evident no one saw

the enemy but me . . . . I

pulled back the bolt to cock

the action of the BAR, pushed

off the safety, settled back on

my right foot, and opened fire.

The flying cliii and tracers told

me where my rounds were

going. I emptied the rifle.

So I pushed the release with

my right thumb and pulled the

empty magazine out, stuck it

in my jacket pocket, loaded

and raised my BAR to my

shoulder. Before I got it all the

way up, red dirt kicked up in

my face. A big jerk at my right

arm told me I was hit. I looked

down and saw blood squirting

onto my broken BAR stock.

As always, there were gory

episodes. Second Lieutenant

Francis W. Muetzel in Company A

was in an abandoned machine gun

emplacement with his company

executive officer and a rifleman

from the 3d Platoon. He later

recalled:

The use of the abandoned

machine gun emplacement

proved to be a mistake. Enemy

mortars and artillery had

already registered on it . . Without registration of any

kind, four rounds of enemy

42

82mm mortar fire landed

around it. The blast lifted me

off the ground, my helmet

flew off. A human body to my

left disintegrated. Being rather

shook up and unable to hear,

I crawled back to the CP. . About the time my hearing

and stability returned . . . I

thought of the 3d Platoon rifleman . . . . I returned to look

for him. One of the mortar

rounds must have landed in

the small of his back. Only a

pelvis and legs were left. The

stretcher-bearers gathered up

the remains with a shovel.

On the other side of "Red Slash

Hill" that was the dividing line,

Company B made some progress

until it was pinned down by heavy

fire from a nearby village on its

flank. Captain John L. Tobin was

wounded, so Fenton took over as

company commander. Calling in an
81mm mortar barrage from the battalion's weapons company, the

riflemen were then able to lunge

forward and seize the crests of Hills

102 and 109 by late afternoon (17

August).

The two battered companies settled down where they were and

tied into each other to dig in night

defensive positions. With the flood

of casualties, the resulting manpower shortage caused the far left

flank to dangle dangerously in the

air. Newton threw together an

improvised unit of men from his

headquarters and service company

personnel to cover that flank. The

mortars and artillery were registered on probable enemy

approach routes, including the

crossing point on the Naktong

River. Then their harassing fire

missions went on all night to try to

disrupt the enemy.

National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A1160

Fire from supporting weapons was a crucial element as the rifle companies

attacked. Above: 81mm mortars lay down a barrage. Below: a 75mm recoilless

rifle blasts a speq/ic target.

43

At 2000 that night (17 August)

the Marines had their first confrontation with the T-34 tanks of

the NKPA. These were the tanks

that had had such a fearsome reputation erliëi in the war. The men

of Company B from their hilltop

perch saw four of them coming

with a column of infantry, aimed to

bypass the Marine riflemen, and, in

a typical enemy tactic, probe to

sow confusion amongst rear elements.

The Corsairs of MAG-33 were

called in. They came roaring

down, knocked out one tank, and

scattered the accompanying enemy

infantry. With a determination typNational Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A1461

I
-a— gil

lç'.t

- 1⁄4

-1A r4 tir

Jc

- .4.

'\

ical of the hardy NKPA, the other

three tanks came on.

When the news was flashed to

Newton in his CP, he told Fenton

to "let them go and they'd be dealt

with in the rear." Back at Craig's

brigade CP, there were two opposite reactions when the news

arrived. A correspondent witnessed the scene: "Naval Captain

Eugene Hering, brigade surgeon,

jumped to his feet. "God

Almighty!" he said. "The aid station's just a quarter of a mile from

there! [Lieutenant (junior grade)

Bentley] Nelson [one of the battalion's medical officers] won't leave

his wounded! If those tanks break

through . . ." "They won't," the

general said. "Newton will know

what to do."

And he did. Summoning the

Marine M-26 tanks and antitank

weapons, Newton left the NKPA

armor up to them. Fenton and the

men of Company B had a ringside

seat for the clash that followed. He

later wrote:

As the first tank rounded

the corner down toward the

1st Battalion CP, it was met by

3.5" rocket fire from the antitank assault section, and fire

from our 75mm recoilless

weapons in position on the

high ground on either side of

the road. The tank was

knocked out, and the second

tank immediately came up

and tried to go around it. The

second, too, was hit in the

track and skidded off the

road. Our M-26 tanks finished

him off [after a 2.36" white

phosphorus rocket had ricocheted inside it, creating a

fiery cauldron]. The third tank

made the same mistake that

the second tank made. He,

too, tried to go around the

other two tanks. One of our

M-26 tanks hit this third tank

with a direct hit. All three of

these tanks were finished off

by our M-26 tank platoon.

Back on the hills, the men of the

1st Battalion spent the midnight

hours on the alert. The attacks that

day had cost the brigade 205 casualties, and, to avoid the punishing

Marine air strikes in daylight, the

enemy was sure to counterattack

during the darkness.

And it did. At 0230 a green signal flare soared into the sky, and

the enemy hit—and hit hard. With

their captured U.S. Army radio

tuned to the Marines' frequency,

the attackers knew the exact place

where the two Marine companies

were tenuously tied together, and

they sought to drive a wedge in

there and then envelop each company separately. With Company A

only part way up Hill 117, machine

gun fire from the crest and

grenades rolling downhill covered

the assault troops of the NK1A, as

they ran down throwing more

grenades and spraying submachine

gun fire. A rifle platoon was in

deep trouble, the mortar platoon

was decimated, the Marine defense

line was penetrated, the company

was split in half, the battalion was

assaulted, and the enemy forced

Company A to make a partial withdrawal back to a spot near Hill

109.

Things were not much better in

the Company B zone. With the two

Marine companies split by the

NKPA, the enemy assault smashed

hard into Fenton's men. A platoon

was overrun under the eerie light

of mortar illuminating shells. The

attackers charged into the CP,

where hastily assembled stray

Marines met them in bitter handto-hand combat. Possession of the

two hard-won hills and, in fact, the

outcome of the whole brigade

attack hung in a delicate, trembling

balance.

Just at that precarious moment,

the phone rang in the CP of

On top of Objective Number 3, Marines look down on the Naktong River.

National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A1401

44

The Enemy Ruaction
Company B. It was Newton, calling

to say that the position must be

held "at all costs," and that he was

pouring in all the supporting mortar and artillery fire he could

muster. (This apparently prevented

the NKPA from feeding in reinforcements to exploit the breakthroughs.) Newton's main message

was a brutally frank reminder that,

if the Marines retreated, they

would simply have to grind their

way back to the lost positions in

the forthcoming days. Then

Newton asked if they could hold

on until daylight could bring relief.

Fenton's reply has been variously

reported: "We have gooks all

around us"; "They've turned my

left flank"; "Don't worry, Colonel.

The only Marines that will be leaving this ridge tonight will be dead

ones."

The supporting fire from the 4.2-

inch mortar company proved to he

an invaluable asset. With its high

angle of fire, it was able to search

out and wreak havoc on NKPA

units shielded in gullies which

Marine artillery fire could not

reach. The company's commanding officer, First Lieutenant Robert

M. Lucy, later recalled:

The 1st Battalion was

receiving a terrifically heavy

counterattack. Our company

was zeroed in on the hill and

the valley in front of the battalion. When notified of this

attack, we began firing our

prearranged barrages. Later,

where only one of these barrages had fallen, they counted 120 dead North Koreans

with 12 cart-mounted machine guns, who had been

massed in this little gulley

behind the hill, a ridge in

front of the battalion that

would have caused them

considerable trouble.

45

With many officers down and

aided by the supporting fire, the

noncommissioned officers took the

lead in regrouping their units, and

so the men of the depleted

Companies A and B stood, and

fought, and died, and finally held

their ground. Typical of the

unyielding defense were the examples of two platoon leaders,

Second Lieutenant Hugh C.

Schryver, Jr., in Company B, and

Second Lieutenant Francis W.

Muetzel in Company A. Both officers, although severely wounded,

continued to lead their men with

the "fierce determination"

described in their citations for

awards of the Silver Star. Slowly,

toward dawn on 18 August, the

enemy attacks weakened. But the

Marines had paid a fearful price.

Company B had begun the night

with 190 enlisted men and five

officers; the next morning there

were only 110 left, with one officer

:;' 1st NAKTONG COUNTEROFFENSIVE

U ..-2'SRQT, "r 3⁄4' W

'' = ' " -, 1st PROVISIONAL MARINE BRIGADE a'

ft _-= / 34TH ATTACHED TO 24th INF DIV

'1⁄4 :———

RCT

SHOWING MARINE S ARMY ATTACKS S P4K —

4' 3⁄4' -.

I 'I%\ POSITIONS COUNTERATTACK S WITHDRAWALS

0 1000 2000 3000

a ''

,- 41 ., '"' 4' YARDS

3⁄4' a V 34tFt t '4

4' S4 46 RCT a c. /'"\ gc(t ..42.'°\ t') ;. \"t// \'1 :z"J( ';U

ii ;TH:$(L:,X 3⁄4' 2' ' a 1'a RCT

,a ,CLOVERLE4g

3' 3⁄4' ,'-":. a 4'' tv;r.c X125,,// 2 k HILL

.3⁄4 .%rTIJGOK7jj,'t ,u 4 3⁄4' fr.)lt '41' w r ,

3⁄4' 4' , //"4,MAREskLL / 3⁄4',,

2.

,, , "itj %;OONS..NI

/ 4' :4

=4'

6

- I

a =,4rr_*1%4S axI\ .u );,# '°" ,it i\Y ""' QB.J.? "4 \e ) " .

A .11. I, i" 1 ii.

it I', 4' S ' fl 43⁄4 - 4' 'I. 4' ti'

3⁄4'\gJ,J 4.1' a -4' ?'

/ I\t 'a aN

t. I , 'S - * - ,& 'a " '.

I a 'a

3⁄4' "4 4" FEflRYi ,3⁄4 4v,A4'
:$j' \ *.:.. '-S..

posing gases caused the

cadaver to belch. Black blood

foamed out of its mouth and

nose. I promptly lost my

entire lunch. By the time the

platoon got through laughing,

the tension was broken and

they were ready to go back to

work.

still standing. Company A was in

worse shape with just 90 men

remaining from the 185 at the start

of the night.

But the enemy had also paid a

heavy price. The sequential attacks

of the 2d and then the 1st

Battalions and the dogged nighttime defense had caused hundreds

of NKPA casualties so that, in

Fehrenbach's words, "the 18th

Regiment was shattered beyond

repair."

Craig ordered a resumption of

the attack at 0700 the next morning, 18 August. None of the men

on Obong-ni had had any sleep

during the night past, but the

Corsairs were back on station overhead, the enemy was weakening,

and both Companies A and B

moved once more into the assault.

Company B worked men to its left

to coordinate with Company A's

effort to seize Hill 117. Four determined NKPA machine gunners

there held up the advance, so the

company commander, Captain

John R. Stevens, got in touch with

Newton to call in an air strike.

There was legitimate concern

about the fact that his Marines

were too close, only 100 yards

from the target, but a smoke rocket was fired into the emplacements

from the control Corsair, and the

next Corsair put a 500-pound

bomb right onto the center of the

target. The Marines lost one man

killed, but the enemy was totally

wiped out, and Company A's follow-up rush quickly took control

of the crest. Time: 0734, request air

strike; 0743, bomb delivered; 0748,

on the crest.

There was a brief pause—well

remembered by Muetzel:

In an effort to calm the

men after all they'd been

through, I told them to break

out rations and eat while they

had a chance. I sat on the

side of a hole and dangled

my feet. On the other side of

the hole lay a dead North

Korean. He had caught one

through the top of the head

and looked pretty ugly. I was

23 years old and to reassure

the men I tried to pull off a

John Wayne stunt. When I

was halfway through my can

of meat and beans, decom46

And back to work the company

went, moving aggressively to take

the remaining hilltops. Resistance

was minimal now, and soon all the

heights of bloody Obong-ni Ridge

were in Marine hands. As the men

looked down the reverse slope of

one of the hills, an unusual sight

greeted their eyes. A clump of

scrub pines lay below them, and,

as they watched, astonished, the

"clump" turned Out to be a group

of camouflaged enemy soldiers

who arose and rushed downward

in headlong flight.

The 1st Battalion now counted

up the enemy weapons destroyed

or abandoned: 18 heavy machine

guns, 25 light machine guns, 63

submachine guns, 8 antitank rifles,

1 rocket launcher, and large stocks

of ammunition and grenades.

The seizure of Obong-ni Ridge

was crucial to the elimination of

the threatening salient which had

been driven into the Army's lines.

As Geer summed it up, "it was evident the enemy had staked the

defense of the Naktong Bulge on

their ability to hold that key ridge."

With Objective 1 now secured

and the enemy in bad shape,

Murray kept the pressure on.

Taplett's 3d Battalion moved out

that same morning of 18 August,

bound for Objective 2, Hill 207

(the next rise west of Obong-ni). It

was preceded by an intensive barrage from air, artillery, tanks, and

mortars, including now supporting

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A-157140

With an enemy who was adept at infiltration and night attacks, Marines strung

barbed wire whenever they had an opportunity.
a

- -

a -S

S

* a

-.5- - S

— .j4,:

A'- C•

- • :

•Sa I

National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A2189

A "turkey shoot" ended the First Battle of the Naktong. Here a BAR man draws a bead on the fleeing enemy.

fire from the 9th Infantry on the

right flank.

A correspondent in the rear was

awed:

The 155s began to roar and

the snub-nosed 105s, and to

one side the mortars were

barking, and in front the

squat tanks were slamming

away with the 90mm guns

whose muzzle blast can

knock a man down at thirty

feet, and above the hill,

swooping low, the planes

were diving in.

You would see the smoke

and fire flash of the rockets

leaving the wings, and then

would come the great tearing

sound the rocket made in

flight, and then the roar of its

bursting against the hill. And

after the rockets had gone,

you would see the little round

dots of smoke in the sky as

the wing guns fired, and all

the crest of the hill in front of

How Company was a roaring,

jumping hell of smoke and

flame and dust and noise.

With this kind of preparation,

"Objective 2 was not much of a

fight," as an officer in Company G

said. There was a grenade flurry

near the crest of Hill 207, but a platoon of Company H was then able

to rush the enemy positions, and it

was all over by 1237.

There had been a tide of NKPA

troops running for safety. Now it

became a flood, increased by men

driven from Hill 207. Everywhere

the soldiers of the NKPA's "crack"

4th Division on Obong-ni had

themselves cracked and were fleeing westward in a disorganized,

panic-stricken rout. It became a

field day for the Marine artillery

and planes—a thunderous hammering that caused massive waves

47

of enemy deaths. There were "all

kinds of bodies floating in the

Naktong."

Taplett kept driving. Next target:

"Objective 3," Hill 311, the last barrier before the Naktong River.

There was another round of

preparatory fire, this one featuring

a dose of napalm, and one more

time the riflemen moved out.

Things went fairly smoothly for

Company G which, "brushing

aside light resistance," was on the

crest by 1730. Not so for Company

H. It was badly hindered by difficult terrain and an obdurate

enemy, and by 1825 was pinned

down and unable to advance.

Supporting fire from Company G

and an attempted flanking maneuver by its Cahill platoon (which, 10

days earlier, had had that relief

mission on Hill 342) were not

Final Victon: Objective 3
V

a'

.t

* 21

2-

Wi

So I relieved him. I called

Taplett and said, "I don't even

want this guy here tonight." I

made him go back on his

own, back to the battalion,

and wrote an unsat report,

un-officer-like conduct.

It went up to Craig, and the

guy was out of country in two

or three days. It was so easy

to do things like that then.

And he was out of the Marine

Corps. You can't do that

today. You have to have a

General Court-martial and

everything else. There wasn't

even a Court of Inquiry.

Everyone agreed that he was

a coward, and he was gone.

Rhee at the Purple Heart ceremony.

enough help for H to be able to

advance.

It was the last gasp of the NKPA,

however. A heavy round of battalion mortar fire early the next

morning, 19 August, was followed

by a triumphant sweep of the hilltop by Company H, and the

Marine battle to seize the three key

ridges in the Naktong Bulge was

over. One battalion stood on each

of the three objectives, and the

men of the brigade met the Army

troops at the river's edge. Marine

aviators reported, 'the enemy was

killed in such numbers that the

river was definitely discolored with

blood."

During the attack on Objective

3, the 3d Battalion surgeon came

across a horrendous sight, demonstrating the savage brutality of the

NKPA. A U.S. Army aid station had

been overrun a week earlier, the

wounded and bed-ridden men

shot and bayoneted, their bodies

then mutilated. Medics who bravely had stayed there to tend their

men had had the hands wired

behind their backs and then were

murdered.

An incident occurred on one of

these final nights that is very

revealing of how personnel problems could be expeditiously dealt

with in the "Old Corps"—particularly in a combat environment.

Bohn had told his machine gun

platoon lieutenant to check carefully on the positioning and coordination of the weapons' sites.

When the company commander

decided to inspect personally, he

found wholly unsatisfactory results

and crews who had not even seen

their lieutenant. Steaming, he

returned to his CP and hauled the

lieutenant in for a very brief conversation:

I said, "Have you put in the

machine gun sections? Did

you get around to check each

section?" He said, "Yes, sir."

48

The brigade was now relieved

by Army units—not always

smoothly, but at least the tired

Marines would get some rest.

The victory price for the

Naktong Marines was clear: 66

dead, 278 wounded, but only 1

man missing in action. That last

figure was the clearest indication

of the value of Marine training and

morale; there had been other units

with distressingly high percentages

of missing-in-action, but, as Edwin

P. Hoyt summarizes in his history,

The Pusan Perimeter—Korea 1950

"The Marines stood and fought,

and they took care of their own."

The final results for the NKPA

4th Division were shattering.

Fewer than 3,000 men were able to

get back across the Naktong, leaving more than 1,200 dead behind.

The Marine brigade recovered a

large amount of enemy equipment,

including 34 artillery pieces (with

five of them being captured Army

105mm howitzers), hundreds of

automatic weapons, and thousands

of rifles. The Army's official history

sums it up: "The destruction . . . of

the NKPA 4th Division.. . was the

greatest setback suffered thus far

by the North Korean Army. The

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A2238

BGen Edward A Craig receives the thanks of South Korean President Syngman
S

4th Division never recovered from

this battle."

After the brigade was pulled

back off the hills it had won,

Fenton described what he felt was

the key reason for the Marine victory: "the finest batch of noncommissioned officers ever assembled

in any Marine regiment. Not only

were 75 percent of them combat

veterans, he believed, but they had

often stepped in as platoon leaders

and were "outstanding." Fenton

expanded on that:

Squad leaders knew their

job to the last detail. Many

times I ended up with

sergeants as platoon leaders

after a big fire fight, and they

did an excellent job. I just

can't be too high in my

praise.

In some cases, it wasn't just

noncoms. It was the PFCs and

privates holding the job of a

fire team leader or squad

leader. It was their fine leadership, outstanding initiative,

and control of the men that

turned a possible defeat into

a sweet victory.

On 20 August Craig learned

from Church that the brigade had

been detached from the 24th

Division and was now part of

Walker's Eighth Army reserve.

There were letters of praise from

both Walker and Church. The former wrote that the brigade's

"excellence in leadership and grit

and determination . . . upheld the

fine tradition of the Marines in a

glorious manner." Church graciously commented to the Marines

that their "decisive and valiant

offensive actions . . . predominantly contributed to the total destruction of the Naktong pocket."

Perhaps the recognition the men of

the brigade appreciated most came

from their own Commandant.

General Cates' message said: "I am

very proud of the performance of

your air-ground team. Keep hitting

them front, flanks, rear, and topside. Well done."

Thus the men of the brigade

moved back into bivouac in an

area near Masan known forever

after as "The Bean Patch." Craig set

up his CP there on 21 August and

reported back again to Kean of the

Army's 25th Division. The news

was discouraging: all the land won

in the brigade's drive to Sachon

was now lost or under heavy

enemy pressure, and the 11th

Marines was needed to go back

immediately to the original starting

point two weeks earlier, Chindongni, to fire missions in support of

the 25th Division.

But for the other Marines it was

a wonderful, restorative change.

Some 800 replacements arrived to

fill in the painful gaps in the ranks;

VMO-6 helicopters flew in hot

food; letters from home and beer

49

miraculously appeared; and new

equipment was issued. But not

enough of it. Fenton frankly noted

that the equipment they had

arrived with in the Bean Patch was

in "terrible condition." It had deteriorated badly from exposure to

heat, rain, and frequent immersion

in rice paddies.

In addition, he commented:

We were having a hard

time getting Browning automatic rifles. Many of our BAR

men had been casualties, and

we were down to about three

or four per platoon. You just

couldn't get a BAR belt in

Korea.

Shoes were another big

problem. . . . We reached the

point where we had men running around in tennis shoes.

Dungarees were in bad shape

Our packs, which had

been dropped at Pusan and

were supposed to have been

brought to us by the rear echelon, never arrived. The only

way we could get a clean suit

National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-N-A1469

A high point of the brief interlude in the rest area: mail call!

Another Brief Interlude
-: I

a.

'I

I

of dungarees was to wash

them or survey the supply at

the laundry unit when we

took a shower.

There were no shelter halves

either, so the men slept out in the

open. A memorable event was a

ceremony for the award of 87

Purple Heart medals, with South

Korean President Syngman Rhee

in attendance. The attrition rate

among the officers had been fearful: five of the six company commanders were wounded and nine

of the 18 rifle

were wounded

killed in action.

One platoon leader, Second

Lieutenant Muetzel, received two

Purple Hearts (with a Silver Star

Medal to come later for his heroic

actions on Obong-ni), while the

gunnery sergeant of the Reconnaissance Company, a veteran of

World War II wounds, received his

fifth Purple Heart. It was a strain

to try to look presentable for the

ceremony, as Muetzel later

remarked:

My leggings had been

thrown away, my trousers

were out at both knees, my

right boot had two bullet

holes in it, and my dungaree

jacket had corporal's stripes

stenciled on the sleeves. I

grabbed a fast shave with

cold water, hard soap, and a

dull blade. Gene Davis

loaned me a clean set of dungarees, Tom Gibson loaned

me his second lieutenant's

bars, and off I went with my

troops.

Commanders and staff of the 5th Marines assembled for a

photograph during a lull in the battle, Pictured in the front

row, from left, are: LtCol George R. Newton, LtCol Harold S.

Roise, and LtCol Robert D. Taplett. Second row, LtCol

Raymond L. Murray and LtCol Lawrence C. Hays, Jr. Third

row, Maj R. M. Colland, LtCol George F. Walters, Jr., Capt

Department of Defense Photo (USMc) A1441

John V. Huff Maj Kenneth B. Boyd, Maj Harold Wallace,

Maj William C. Esterline. Fourth row, Capt Ralph M.

Sudnick, Lt Robert M. Lucy, Lt Almarion S. Bailey, Lt Leo R.

Jillisky, Lt Alton C. Weed, Capt Gearl M. English, WO Harold

J. Michael, and CWO Bill E. Parrish

platoon leaders

and four of the

50
3/'

tfj

While the troops were enjoying

this temporary lull, some of Craig's

senior staff officers were sent to

Tokyo to confer on plans for the

future use of the Marines.

MacArthur had made bold—very

bold—plans for a daring end-run

around the NKPA besieging the

Pusan Perimeter by making a surprise amphibious landing far to the

rear, at Inchon. For this purpose he

had urgently requested the full 1st

Marine Division. Elements of it

began arriving in Japan on 28

August, but there were massive

problems to be overcome. The 1st

Marines was on hand, but the 7th

Marines would not arrive at Inchon

until a week after D-day, with one

battalion coming halfway around

the world from the Mediterranean.

The crucial unit for the forthcoming assault was supposed to be the

battled-tested 5th Marines. It had

already begun shipping its heavy

equipment back down to Pusan, as

plans were drawn to have it join

the 1st Marine Division, even

though it was now fully committed

in combat. Morale soared in the

brigade as the men looked forward

to fighting side-by-side with fellow

Marines.

Meanwhile, in Tokyo there were

very tense moments. Time was

critically short to mount an opera51

tion as complex as an amphibious

assault. There were vigorous differences of opinion in Army-NavyMarine meetings as to when or

even whether the brigade should

join the 1st Marine Division. On

one hand, the Eighth Army staff

felt, as the official Marine history

bluntly put it, "Army morale would

be hurt by taking the brigade away

at a critical moment." And Walker

placed an "extremely excited" telephone call to MacArthur's headquarters in Tokyo, saying in effect,

"If I lose the 5th Marine Regiment,

I will not be responsible for the

safety of the front!" Thus there was

strong Army pressure to substitute

an Army regiment for the 5th

Marines at the Inchon landing.

On the other hand, Major

General Oliver P. Smith, Commanding General of the 1st Marine

Division, supported by the three

Navy admirals most closely involved, was equally adamant that,

for a tricky amphibious landing, he

had to have the 5th Marines which

was trained for just such an operation. There was a deadlock.

Then, amidst these planning

meetings, harsh reality came crashing down to complicate further

decisions on the use of the

brigade. The NKPA, realizing that

time was running out for it,

launched a final, convulsive attack

to eradicate the Pusan Perimeter.

Some 98,000 men in 13 divisions

hit five separate points on the

perimeter. Walker faced a brutal

series of simultaneous problems.

Where should he commit his limited reserves—in particular his

proven Marine brigade? The two

thrusts closest to Pusan were one

against the Army's 25th Division in

the same area of the far southwest,

and another against the Army's 2d

Division in the west central

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A1507

After the First Battle of the Naktong, there was a welcome moment to clean up—

with a South Korean boy holding the mirror.

The \KPA Attacks Agaiii
(Naktong) area. A breakthrough to

capture Pusan would mean total

disaster. (Military analysts in later

years would speculate that that

might well have happened if

General Kim Chaek had ordered

only diversionary attacks at four of

the points, massed overwhelming

strength at one point, and crashed

through there.)

The NKPA assigned the 2c1, 4th,

9th, and 10th Divisions to destroy

the U.S. 2d Infantry Division

before Miryang and drive through

to the vital Pusan-Taegu MSR by

way of Yongsan. Smashing into

that division on 1 September, the

North Korean assault quickly made

a 4,000-yard penetration. The commanding general of the 2d

Division, Major General Lawrence

B. Keiser, USA, saw his division

sliced in half, with his companies

cut off or totally overrun, his

defensive lines hustled back

almost to Yongsan, and enemy

infiltration in his rear. Neither

Keiser nor his three regimental

commanders had ever led troops

in battle, and now the NKPA had

punched a hole six miles wide and

eight miles deep into their division.

Obong-ni Ridge, so dearly bought,

was back in enemy hands.

Now Walker made up his mind:

the new Naktong Bulge had

returned as his priority threat.

Blair's book pointed out the logical, but painful, next step: "Walker

came to a difficult and drastic decision: Once again he would have to

call on Eddie Craig's Marines for

help. The decision was drastic

both because of the humiliation it

would again cause the Army, and

because Craig's Marines were a

vital element in the Inchon invasion plan."

That was it. In the morning of 1

September, the orders came for the

brigade, including the 11th

Marines, to move by train and

truck back once more to the

Mityang assembly area. The reaction of the men was predictable:

going back to regain what they

had already won once.

52

When Craig had set up his CP in

Miryang, his brigade came under

the operational control of the

Army's 2d Division. To old timers

in the Marine Corps it surely

brought back vivid and ironic

memories of another time and

place, when a Marine brigade had

been teamed once before with the

9th and 23d Infantry as a proud

part of the Army's superb 2d

Division, 32 years earlier in France.

On 2 September, Craig had a

conference with Keiser and the

Eighth Army's Chief of Staff.

General Shepherd later made a

comment on this meeting which

revealed the inherently gracious

nature of Craig: "The Army division commander . . . went to

Eddie, who was a brigadier, and

said, 'General Craig, I'm horribly

embarrassed that you have to do

this. My men lost the ground that

you took in a severe fight.' And

Eddie, in his very gallant manner,

said, 'General, it might have happened to me.'

The Army officers at the meeting

felt the situation was so desperate

that the brigade should immediately be dribbled piecemeal into

action, even though one of its battalions and its air control section

had not yet arrived. Craig, who

also knew when to make a stand,

later remembered, "This was the

only heated discussion I had in

Korea with the Army." His stubborn view that the whole brigade

should go into action as a unified

air-ground team was finally accepted. Its attack would be down the

Yongsan-Naktong road toward an

all-too-familiar objective, Obong-ni

Ridge. The 9th Infantry Regiment

would be on its right, and other

Army units on its left. Now the

brigade, for the first time,

appeared to have flanks that were

secure enough to allow it to attack

with two battalions abreast, Roise's

2d on the right and Newton's 1st

Photo by David Douglas Duncan

The price of victory: a jeep takes two wounded men back to an aid station.
11w Marines Attack

on the left. Taplett's 3d Battalion

would block any enemy push

along the southwest approaches to

Yongsan.

Meanwhile, between 0300 and

0430, 3 September, the 2d Battalion

moved into its forward assembly

area north of Yongsan, with the 1st

Battalion south of the town.

Opposite them, driving hard for

Yongsan, were the NKPA divisions

which had successfully advanced

this far in the new Naktong Bulge.

Immediately in front of the brigade

was the 9th Division. This was not a seasoned, professional outfit,

such as the one the brigade had

previously broken; rather, it had

up to now been doing guard duty

at Seoul. Behind it, in reserve,

came a reconstituted 4th Division,

filled with new recruits after the

53

massive casualties the brigade had

inflicted on it in the first battle of

the Naktong.

The Marine attack was to be

launched early on the morning of

3 September. There were problems

getting things started. Moving

through Yongsan, the Marines

were hit by small arms fire from

snipers, but by 0630 they had

worked their way to the western

end of the town, and thought they

were then headed forward to the

agreed-upon line of departure for

their main attack. Not so! During

the night the Army troops on the

ridgeline had "collapsed" and had

been pushed back 1,000 yards. At

0645 Roise called Second

Lieutenant Robert M. Winter to

bring his tanks forward and lay

down fire to cover the withdrawal

of the Army troops. The original

planned line of departure thus

became the first objective when

the Marines attacked.

The 2d Battalion jumped off at

0715, securing the right flank of

the brigade's attack. To soften up

his main objective, Roise called

down a massive sheet of fire from

tanks, air, mortars, artillery, and

machine guns. The Marines

pushed doggedly toward it wading

through a rice paddy. Now the

enemy's 9th Division quickly

found its previous pattern of

steady advances had ground to a

screeching halt.

Craig, as was his wont, came up

to check on the action. His observation post (OP) was between the

tanks and Roise's OP. Enemy fire

pounded the area, and Winter was

wounded and had to be evacuated—but not before he offered

Craig a bottle of whiskey from his

tank. Winter was later awarded a

Silver Star Medal for his leadership

of his tank platoon that day.

2nd NAKTONG COUNTEROFFENSIVE

MARINE ATTACKS: (3 SEe) (4 SEe)
Meanwhile, the 1st Battalion

also moved out. Its attack route

forced the men knee-deep into

their own huge rice paddy. There

they came under fire, but their

supporting arms searched out the

enemy positions. In particular, the

Corsairs were able to engulf the

NKPA with balls of napalm fire. A

typical time of response was seven

minutes from a strike request to

execution.

This kind of seamless coordination in the Marine air-ground team

was a source of great envy by the

Army commanders who saw its

decisive results. As Colonel Paul L.

Freeman, USA, commander of the

23d Infantry (well off to the right

of the brigade), wrote to General

Matthew Ridgway in Washington:

The Marines on our left

were a sight to behold. Not

only was their equipment

superior or equal to ours, but

they had squadrons of air in

direct support. They used it

like artillery. It was, "Hey,

Joe, this is Smitty, knock off

the left of that ridge in front

of Item Company." They had

it day and night. . . General,

we just have to have air support like that, or we might as

well disband the Infantry and

join the Marines.

By 1100 the 1st Battalion was at

the base of its ridgeline objective.

Working its way upwards under

the protection of supporting 81mm

mortar fire, Company A poised for

a final charge. As soon as the fire

lifted, the men sprang forward,

screaming, shouting, firing every

available weapon. To their amazement, a whole company of NKPA

soldiers in front of them, shaken

by the noise and the sight of charging Marines, leaped in a panic out

of their concealed foxholes on the

forward slope and fled back

towards the crest of the hill. Then

the long hours of practice on the

rifle range really paid off: Marine

marksmen coolly picked off most

of the enemy as they ran.

Company A immediately rushed to

the crest. It was noon. In Company

B, Fenton later observed:

The 1st Battalion was able

to move and seize the ridge

line without encountering

heavy opposition. I don't

believe the enemy realized

54

that we had a battalion to the

left of the road, because he

was prepared to take that

high ground himself. We beat

him there by a good 10 or 20

minutes and caught him coming across another rice paddy

field. We really had a "turkey

shoot."

Firing now from the heights, the

Marine riflemen put on another

display of precise marksmanship

that must have stunned the simple

Photo by David Douglas Duncan

A distraught Cpl Leonard Hayworth pleads for more grenades, finds none, and

must return empty-handed to his hard-pressed men.
peasant soldiers of the NKPA: the

"yellow leggings" could kill with

aimed fire at 400-500 yards. (Just as

the Marines in that earlier brigade

in France had stunned the

Germans at Belleau Wood with

trained rifle fire that killed at long

range.)

What the 1st Battalion did not

finish off, the 105s of the 11th

Marines did. Those of the enemy

who were left withdrew to Hill 117

in front of the 2d Battalion, but an

artillery barrage was called down

on them in transit, and wreaked

more havoc.

In the 2d Battalion zone of

attack there were some hard

moments. When Company D was

getting started in its assault, a tragic episode occurred. (Today, it is

called "friendly fire" and results in

great publicity. Fifty years ago, in

the early days of the Korean War, it

was regarded as just one of those

unfortunate things that happened

because close combat is always

unpredictable.) The official Marine

history did not even mention it,

but it was seared into the memory

of Private First Class Douglas Koch

in Company D:

Down the road from the

north rolled four or five

American tanks . . . . All of a

sudden a machine gun

stitched a stream of fire across

the company's rear. I rolled

over on one elbow and

looked behind me. Someone

yelled, "God, they're shooting

at us." Instead of firing on the

top of the hill, the tanks

chose to fire at the bottom of

the hill. I saw a puff of

smoke. Just that quick a shell

landed near me. It rolled me

over into a little gully. I lay

dazed. God, I thought, we're

gonna get done in by our

own goddamn outfit. While I

lay with my head down, three

or four more shells hit nearby

A lot of men had been

hit.

Naturally, this kind of ghastly

mistake was temporarily shattering

to the company, until the officers

finally got their men moving again.

But Koch and the others went back

to their attack "still in shock."

This occurrence was, fortunately, a rarity. Elsewhere that morning

of 3 September, Marine tanks were

Capt "Ike" Fenton, caught by suiprise, described the grim

moment: "We had been in one hell of a big battle. It was

55

raining. The radio had gone out and we were low on

ammunition."

Photo by David Douglas Duncan
doing yeoman's work. They took

on NKPA antitank weapons, surprised three T-34 tanks and wiped

them out, then eliminated two

more in the afternoon. This cleanup enabled the M-26s to concentrate their fire to good effect on

enemy weapons and troop positions confronting the riflemen.

Marine air was also very active.

With the squadrons shuttling so

that one was always on hand to

help, seven close air support missions were flown for the two

assault battalions. Other Marine

planes, guided by OYs, strafed and

bombed, knocking out, among

other things, 16 enemy gun and

mortar positions.

Back on the ground, Company

D's first objective was Hill 116, to

try to cut off the enemy reinforcements coming over from the 1st

Battalion's zone. Facing two NKPA

battalions, the company found

itself in a bloody battle. It was

finally able to gain the crest of the

northern spur of Hill 117, and

there it dug in, isolated, some 500

yards from the rest of the 2d

Battalion.

As the enemy troops filtered into

the zone of the 2d Battalion, the

men of the 1st Battalion were able

to make good progress in the afternoon, with Company B reaching

its part of Objective 2, a peak

across the MSR from Hill 117.

Company A, using a fancy triple

envelopment seized its part, Hill

91, by 1630, and so all hands prepared for the usual night counterattack. Well they might. The 1st

Battalion's right flank was dangling

in air; it was trying to cover a front

of nearly a mile; and its two rifle

companies were 200 yards apart.

The 2d Battalion was in an equally

dangerous position, stretched over

a 2,000-yard front, bent in a right

angle, with Company D completely isolated.

56

Three things saved the Marines'

precarious position. First, a bevy of

their engineers moved in to sow a

belt of antipersonnel mines, wired

hand grenades, and blocks of TNT

along the flanks. Secondly,

VMF(N)-513 came on station with

its F4U-5N Corsair and F7F

Tigercat night fighters. Equipped

with sophisticated radar, it was the

only squadron to fly single-engine

planes over Korea at night. Flying

more than 2,000 hours of night

missions in one month, it delivered

this particular night six close air

support strikes controlled from the

two infantry battalions. Thirdly, a

deluge of rain, accompanied by icy

winds, further hindered any plans

the battered NKPA troops might

have contemplated for a counterattack.

As the Maiines waited though

the miserable, rainy night, even

though they had driven two victorious miles west of Yongsan, their

.. .. ,,...,,. 2 ND NAKTONG COUNTEROFFENSIVE .:i c.,,

(Li 3—5 SEPTEMBER 1950 ) I

1ST PROVISIONAL MARINE BRIGADE

' ' ' " / S.. \

ATTACHED TO 2ND INFANTRY DIVISION

000 0 1000

" U 4 YARDS A 2 2

i SHOWING PRINCIPAL MARINE ATTACKS AND ENEMY

POSITIONS WITHDRAWALS B COUNTERATTACK . USA /1 - ,\ 2' ::",q J S

. :/

I' II' ,

' ' KWANGGYERI HG DGo tv ,, . 4, ..,. ;:; c::

TUG OK Cof G cj o

'

'I , :

rn ''U.. 1I . .l TANKS ,' 'r

- - CLO ERLEAF A,CO . .

_____

HILL ,, '

/ . AC /4; (?) 2 :

FRONT /

CUH0N — N]
ift-,,. - C.! - r:r'zsr ...tt;: -[-S- é1

.- —- ' - itt.'? —- ,t-.

$1 - .-. . - ..4

?:t --'-c:--'-a: _t—.,. V-IS

thoughts must have turned to the

casualties of the past day: 34 killed

and 157 wounded. Muetzel in the

1st Battalion later voiced what

must have been a common sentiment after almost a month of

grinding combat:

[Men] came, were killed,

and were carried away . I knew this couldn't keep up

We, me, all of us were

eventually going to get it; it

was just a matter of when

and how bad. . . . It was just

a god-awful mess—inadequate replacements, insufficient ammo, worn-out clothes

and boots. No one much gave

a rap about anything. Outside

discipline was no longer a

threat. What could the brass

do to us that was worse than

what we were doing? Each of

us withdrew into our family—

the squad, the platoon, the

company, the regiment, the

brigade, the Corps. Everyone

else, bug offl

This same day, 3 September,

witnessed a final showdown in the

Tokyo planning meetings. A compromise solution to the deadlock

emerged. Walker would get Army

reinforcements and could temporarily use the Marine Brigade to

meet his Naktong crisis. But it

would have to be withdrawn by

midnight 5 September to join the

1st Marine Division for the Inchon

landing.

Back with troops, in order to

keep the pressure on the next

morning (4 September), Murray

had ordered Taplett's 3d Battalion

to pass through the depleted 2d

Battalion and resume the attack at

0800 with the 1st Battalion on its

left. In 20 minutes, Taplett's men

reached their first objective, then

quickly took Hill 116 with almost

no enemy resistance. Next, the battalion's main objective, Hill 117,

was overrun by a pincer movement of Companies G and H.

Incredibly, it was all over by 0840.

No real enemy resistance had

turned into a withdrawal, and now

there were signs that was turning

into a disorderly rout—a weird

contrast to the bruising encounters

the Marines had had the day

before.

The 1st Battalion was simultaneously moving with equal rapidity.

Shortly after starting, it occupied

what appeared to have been a CP

of the NKPA 9th Division. Tents

were still up, equipment was

strewn around, and two abandoned T-34 tanks in perfect operMarines meet almost no opposition as they top this hill in the Naktong River area on 4 September 1950

Department of Defense Photo (USMc) A8175

57

( ()flhi Ii Liii ig iii c \a ilL
The Final Day

ating condition were captured (the

first such to be taken and turned

over to U.S. Army Ordnance for

examination). The men in the battalion's steady advance saw the

bodies of many dead NKPA soldiers and piles of abandoned or

destroyed equipment, souvenirs of

low-flying Corsair strikes and accurate fire from the 11th Marines

poured on the retreating enemy.

Among the litter were captured

American guns, tanks, mortars, and

vehicles which were returned to

the 2d Division. The official Marine

history described "a picture of devastation unequaled even by the

earlier defeat of the NKPA 4th

Division." This time it was the 9th

Division's turn to be hammered by

the brigade.

By 1515 Newton's companies

stood atop their first objectives,

now less than 2,000 yards from the

old killing ground on Obong-ni

Ridge. Moving in coordinated tandem with them were Taplett's

companies, which had pivoted to

the west after seizing Hill 117.

Learning of the Marines'

progress, Keiser gave Craig the goahead to have his brigade push on

further toward Objective Two.

Moving aggressively, using air

strikes when held up, the 1st

Battalion worked its way to the

designated area (between Hill 125

and Observation Hill), securing

Cloverleaf Hill by 1800.

Thus the brigade had advanced

3,000 yards and gained its objectives. Hoyt summarized the strategic importance of this: "The

Marines had stopped the enemy's

advance, saved Yongsan and the

[MSR] road beyond [it], and put the

North Korean 9th Division into

retreat."

As the Marine battalions dug in

for the night they were in exposed

positions similar to the preceding

evening. Newton's men were 1,000

yards in front on the left, stretched

paper-thin along a line almost a

mile long. Taplett's men were no

better off. Out of contact with the

1st Battalion on their left and the

Army's 9th Infantry on their right,

they curled up in a perimeter

defense.

Expecting the usual NKPA night

counterattack, the Marines again

had their engineers put out a protective shell of mines, booby traps,

and trip flares. There was heavy

incoming shelling during the night,

but that slacked off after a visit

from the night fighter planes of

VMF(N)-513. The rain poured

down, but the enemy infantry

apparently had been hit too hard

during the day, and there was no

assault.

When men are under heavy

pressure in close combat little

things can loom large in their

minds. Fenton gave an example:

"It had been raining all night, and

the battalion had managed to get

some hot coffee up to us, but just

when the coffee arrived, we got

the word to move Out. We weren't

able to distribute any of the coffee.

This turn of events didn't do the

morale any good. The men were

soaking wet."

A more fundamental event took

place that same night. Reluctantly

following instructions from MacArthur, Walker issued an order that

the Eighth Army would have to

release all of its Marines at the end

of the following day.

To finish off what the brigade

had so successfully begun, Craig

ordered both battalions to move

out in a final attack the morning of

5 September. Before the 1st

Battalion could get started, there

was an unpleasant moment. Two

U.S. Air Force F-Si fighters came

screaming in over the Marines,

strafing them. Miraculously, only

58

one man was wounded.

The 3d Battalion started the day

by showering a rain of fire from its

high ground down on an NKPA

attack on the 9th Infantry off to its

right flank and rear. The 105s from

the 11th Marines joined in, and the

attack was shattered.

Now both battalions were ready

to charge. And they did. The 1st

Battalion jumped off at 0820 with

the objective of capturing Hill 125

and Observation Hill, the brigade's

segment of Phase Line Two.

Obong-ni Ridge was then to be a

special objective. Moving fast

against light resistance, Newton

had his men on his two target hills

by 1100, and there Murray halted

them until the 9th Infantry could

come up to tie in on their right.

Meanwhile, the 3d Battalion was

also moving ahead. Bohn had suggested that Company H, now commanded by Captain Patrick E.

Wildman, serve as a base of fire to

pin down the enemy, while he

took Company G around the

extreme left flank in an enveloping

maneuver. "It worked beautifully,"

as he later reported, but then:

As we were coming up,

getting assembled . . . the

North Koreans picked up on

what we were doing. They

had one of those old Russian

[Maxim] wheeled machine

guns, and I could see their

officer. He was wheeling it up

with his people. Jones saw

him at the same time and he

blew it up with the first round

of 75 recoilless . . . . It was

sheer luck.

As soon as that happened,

of course, we went smoking

up, got over the top, and

once we got to the top. . . we

just rolled them up. It was

outstanding.

So it was, that Company G was
l' ..

a

\wt.a

k-I

Ltb' -

'

,0

_e4 -

p

U

in good shape on Hill 91, expecting to race ahead. Not so. Orders

from Taplett at 1230 directed it to

withdraw to Observation Hill and

hold up there. The convergence of

the 1st Battalion and the 9th

Infantry had pinched out the 3d

Battalion's area, so Company H

joined in a sideslip behind the 1st

Battalion to put the 3d Battalion on

the left flank of the 1st, preparatory to a combined attack on Obongni Ridge. It, too, was told to stay in

place; there would be a delay

before any assault on Obong-ni.

With the heavy rain and ensuing

fog Marine close air support was

grounded, and this gave the NKPA

an opportunity to launch a vicious

daylight counterattack on the 1st

Battalion. Company B, after an

advance of 3,000 yards, was now

located on a ridge line of Hill 125,

parallel to and only 400 yards from

Obong-ni. At 1420 an avalanche of

enemy fire hit it. It was enfilade

fire, mortars and machine guns,

smothering both the reverse slope

and the forward slope of the company's position. Fenton's comment

was curt: "We were pinned down,

and we couldn't move."

At 1430 the enemy infantry

came on, some 300 strong. Fenton

needed help, supporting fire and

lots of it, but at this precise

moment of peril all five of his

radios, as well as the battalion's

tactical radio, went dead in the

downpour of rain. An enlisted runner, 22-year-old Private First Class

William A. Wilson, was rushed off

to the 9th Infantry, which had now

come abreast on Company B's

right flank. His message was

urgent: "We need maximum supporting fire from your artillery, and

we need it right now!" Meeting up

with the adjacent Army company

commander, Wilson was pointing

out the target areas when the Army

officer was struck down by

machine gun fire and had to be

evacuated. So the Marine coolly

picked up his radio and directed

the Army artillery fire to plaster

Obong-ni and the adjoining enemy

targets.

A runner had also been sent

down to the MSR to warn the

Marine tanks there that three NKPA

T-34 tanks supporting the attack

were coming towards them around

Marines assist wounded North Korean prisoners into jeep which took them to medical aid on 4 September 1950

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A2130

59
a,;

a

-ø 'a

— S -

k

-

the same bend that had been the

scene of the previous tank battle

two weeks earlier. The message

was not in time. The lead enemy

tank surprised the first Marine tank

with its gun aimed left at Obongni. Several 85mm rounds knocked

out the Marine tank. Its mate, trying to edge around the first tank,

was also knocked out.

Then, out of the blue, a 3.5-inch

rocket team, dispatched by Fenton,

arrived at the carnage, soon joined

by the battalion rocket team. In

short order, they destroyed the first

two enemy tanks, and then the

third attacker, which turned out to

be an armored personnel carrier.

This made a total of eight steel

hulks littering 'The Bend."

While this dramatic tank confrontation was taking place,

Fenton's infantry confrontation

was also reaching a climax. He

later described the tense situation:

I found it necessary to

place every man I had in the

company on line. Rocket

men, corpsmen, mortarmen,

every available man went on

line to stop this counterattack.

To make matters worse, I

began running low on ammunition. I was practically out of

hand grenades, and things

didn't look too rosy for us.

Just at this time LtCol

George Newton, my battalion

commander, who had probably guessed my situation, sent

a much-welcome platoon

from A Company with five

boxes of hand grenades. The

enemy had closed so rapidly

that we just took the hand

grenades out of the case and

tossed them to the men on

the line. They would pull the

pins and throw them. The

enemy closed to less than 100

yards.

Adding to the intense pressure,

the radios had not been functioning. Finally, at this crucial juncture,

one radio was coaxed into service.

Marines examine two Soviet-made T-34 tanks destroyed by

3.5-inch rocket teams of the 1st Battalion 5th Marines, at

"The Bend." The enemy tanks had supported the vicious

60

North Korean daylight counterattack to blunt the battalion s

assault on Obong-ni Ridge.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC)
Ocra1ionaI Rcstilts

Fenton quickly gave it to his forward observer for the 81mm mortars who called for immediate "fire

for effect." When the mortars had

finished deluging the NKPA attackers, there were only 18 rounds of

ammunition left.

Duncan was with Company B

during its wild battle and saw

Master Sergeant Leonard R. Young

positioning the men along the

crest. (The later citation for a Silver

Star described Young as "exposed

to withering fire, [he] walked

upright back and forth . . . placing

men.") Then, Duncan wrote:

He was shot. A machine

gun bullet went right through

his chest, knocking him into

the mud. But not before he

had given Ike Fenton the best

that an old sergeant could

give his company commander. He was still alive when

they dragged him in across

the slope.

When they placed him

upon a rough poncho-litter

he looked up at Fenton, who

stood with his hand touching

the dripping canvas, and

whispered, "God, I'm sorry

Captain! I'm really sorry! But

don't let them fall back!

Please don't let them fall

back." Fenton still had not

said a word when the litterbearers disappeared into the

rain, and out of sight down

the hill.

A crucial factor in the final, successful outcome of this struggle

were reinforcements which came

over from Company A: two platoons of riflemen, plus machine

gunners, and mortarmen. Together

with the combination of Army

artillery fire and Marine 81mm

mortar fire (which finally came

within 50 yards of Company B),

this broke the back of the NKPA

attack, and secured the Marine

positions.

Now, from their vantage point,

the Marines could see the NKPA

withdrawing from Obong-ni. It

was an obvious signal that the

enemy was thoroughly defeated,

and the door was open for a quick

and easy push all the way through

to the Naktong River.

But the withdrawal deadline dictated by MacArthur had nearly

arrived. All units were held up in

position. The brigade counted up

its casualties for that final day of

battle, 5 September: 35 killed, 91

wounded, and, proudly, none

missing in action.

At 1600 the battalion commanders all met with Murray to get the

official word. Craig's directive was

concise: "Commencing at 2400 5

September Brig moves by rail and

motor to staging area Pusan for

further operations against the

enemy."

Relief and withdrawal at night

from enemy contact is not as easy

in practice as it is on paper. Hours

after they were due, two Army

lieutenants finally showed up to

relieve the two companies of the

1st Battalion. Each had only a

handful of men and very few

weapons. As Muetzel recalled:

An Army first lieutenant

appeared with about 30 men

who'd been scraped together

from a headquarters unit . . I took the lieutenant to the

very crest of the hill and had

him dig in in a circle. He

asked me to leave him our

ammo for a 57mm recoilless

rifle he had. Marines didn't

have 57s, so he had a weapon

and no ammo. He asked his

sergeant to bring up their one

machine gun. The sergeant

told him it had been left back

at the CP. I left behind about

four cases of hand grenades.

6i

So the battle-worn Marines

slogged wearily through the mud

and driving rain for three and a

half miles to the rear. West of

Yongsan, they finally boarded

trucks, and by dawn 6 September

they were on their way to Pusan,

bone-tired but glad finally to leave

those cruel hills of the Perimeter

behind them.

As the truck riders' thoughts

turned to their fellow Marines, they

mourned the loss of good men and

close friends. Those hills had cost

the brigade 148 killed in action, 15

died of wounds, 9 missing in

action (7 of these were later found

to have been killed in action), and

730 wounded in action, for a casualty total of 902. Included in this

total was a special category of men

who had moved side by side with

the Marines in combat, earning

their undying admiration: the Navy

corpsmen who had 22 casualties.

Looking back at what they had

achieved in one short month, however, the men of the brigade could

legitimately feel a sense of pride.

They had traveled some 380 miles

and mounted three difficult operations, each time facing and overwhelming heretofore successful

enemy forces who had numerical

superiority.

The initial brigade drive to

Sachon had represented the first

crisis in which a unit of the Eighth

Army had been able to stop cold

and then push back an enemy

offensive: 26 miles in four days.

Enemy casualties: 1,900.

The second crisis was a call for

the "Fire Brigade" to stem the

NKPA's dangerous breakthrough in

the Naktong Bulge. There it literally destroyed the enemy's 4th

Division, with the Marine air and

artillery arms contributing greatly

to the slaughter. In addition, large
From Pusan to hiclioti

quantities of captured U.S. Army

weapons were seized and

returned. MacArthur spoke of the

enemy division as "decisively

defeated . . . suffering very heavy

losses in both personnel and

equipment."

In the third crisis, the Second

Battle of the Naktong, the brigade

had again been rushed in to meet

the swift advance of the NKPA 9th

and (a reconstituted) 4th Divisions.

When its counterattack smashed

the enemy units in a mere three

days, in conjunction with important U.S. Army attacks, the official

Army history quoted prisoners as

saying that this was "one of the

bloodiest and most terrifying debacles of the war for a North Korean

division." As a result, "the 9th and

4th enemy divisions were not able

to resume the offensive."

Over the period of that single

month, the enemy had paid a devastating price, an estimated 9,900

total casualties, and massive losses

of equipment at the hands of the

Marines.

The achievements of the brigade

went far beyond dramatic tactical

victories in the Pusan Perimeter. It

had demonstrated in its mobilization a remarkable ability to pull

together and ship out a large

Marine combat unit in a pressureladen, short time frame (six days).

It had also demonstrated a variety of other lessons in Korea: the

crucial efforts of previous combat

training on noncommissioned officers and officers; the value of the

intangible, psychological factor of

Marine esprit de cops; and the dazzling effectiveness of a tightly integrated aviation component. Called

"the best close air support in the

history of the Marine Corps," the

operational statistics of MAG-33

showed a total of 1,511 sorties

flown by the three squadrons, with

995 missions being close air support not only for the brigade, but

also for U.S. Army and South

Korean units. In addition, the OY

light planes and the Sikorsky HO3S

helicopters of VMO-6 had tallied

318 and 580 flights respectively in

just the month of August.

Moreover, the helicopters' successful first combat role had proven

the certainty of their large scale use

in the years to come.

An evaluation of all these factors

led the official Marine history to

summarize the overall, operational

results of the brigade: "A careful

examination of any of these operations in which Marines engaged

discloses that a single failure

would have a profound effect

upon the entire UN effort."

The individual unit commanders

who had led the brigade in its battles had a more forceful conviction. They felt that they had "saved

the beachhead."

The final chapter in the story of

the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade

is one that is less dramatic than its

battles, but one which illustrates its

organizational flexibility and skill.

Again, as at Camp Pendleton previously, it had too much to do in

too little time. Arriving in Pusan on

7 September with over-tired men,

worn-out equipment, and understrength from casualties, the

brigade had to cope with a thousand details to get ready to move

out in a very few days for its next

demanding combat assignment.

Sleeping in the open on the

docks, the men ate on board the

transports upon which they soon

would sail. (Although Craig and his

officers later recalled the troops

sleeping in the adjoining warehouses.) Bohn remembered the

human side of this return to "civilization." The ship that had

brought him and his men to Pusan

was once again there at dockside.

62

The Navy officers came ashore and

invited Bohn and all his officers

and men to come on board, and

then welcomed them with "steaks,

hot food" and "all the PX stufe' the

Marines had not seen in a long

time and badly needed now.

Bohn went on to describe

another way that their deficiencies

were remedied:

I'm probably not being sufficiently critical of the Marine

Corps supply system because,

if it hadn't been for the Army,

we'd have been in trouble.

We stole everything, including jeeps . . . . We saw some

rail cars on the siding. My

Marines just went in there and

looked. Whatever the hell

they wanted, they took. The

Army didn't seem to mind

that. Stole beer, too. And it

worked.

It worked to such a degree that

all the jeep trailers in another battalion were emptied, then stacked

full with beer on ice—perfect for

the hot, humid, summer weather.

First, a big party for its own men,

then for the sailors on the ship

upon which they would embark,

the Henrico. Then, however,

things sort of got Out of hand.

Muetzel saw a jeep driven by two

Marines race by, closely pursued

by two MPs. The jeep went off the

end of the dock into the water.

Then two other Marines, who

had climbed over the fence around

the dock area, returned in impressive style. They were driving a

huge Brockway bridge transporter

which they had "acquired." They

quickly abandoned it at the MP

checkpoint—leaving it nicely plugging the entrance to the dock until

a qualified driver was later found.

Muetzel went on to say:

While we were waiting to
-

- - - -- - 1 -iiT -T —

4;

zZTT; -.,— _-t — --—., —

National Archives Photo (USMC) 127-GR-A2193

After an all-night ride from the front lines, over-tired Marine linkup with the 1st Marine Division for the upcoming

mortar crews assemble at the Pusan docks and prepare to assault on Inchon.

board a US. Navy transport. In a matter of days they would

board the Henrico, we were

required to turn in all the captured vehicles we were driving . . . . This left us unacceptably short of motor transportation. Consequently,

vehicles were purloined from

the Army. The worst offense I

saw was the theft of the MP

company commander's jeep.

After a fast coat of green paint

and phony numbers were

slapped on, it was presented

to Lieutenant Colonel George

Newton, our battalion CO.

These shenanigans were, of

course, only a counterpoint to the

serious business at hand. To fill the

gaps in the rifle unit, a large batch

of replacements was on hand.

These 1,135 officers and men

would provide the manpower to

give each battalion the third company which had been so sorely

missed in the past battles. Now, for

the first time in Korea, the 5th

Marines reached full strength: 3,611

63

men. Although the fresh replacements' shiny new utility uniforms

contrasted sharply with the bedraggled veterans, they soon fit in.

Craig later commented that the

new men "were integrated into the

battalions without difficulty." Some

of them were regular Marines and

some were trained reservists, and

Craig went on to say:

Their [future] performance

of duty was comparable in

many ways, outside of, per-
haps, their weapons training

and their tactical training in

the field . . . . It speaks very

well for the type of training

and the adaptability of the

Marines, both as individuals

and as units, that such companies could be formed in the

United States, join an active

battalion just before landing,

take part in that landing, and

operate efficiently throughout

the following campaigns.

In addition, a complete fourth

regiment was attached to the

brigade at this time. This was the

1st Korean Marine Regiment, 3,000

strong. The manpower was welcome, but there was just one problem. Craig explained: "These

Korean Marines had never been

issued arms, although they had

been trained in their nomenclature

and upkeep. They were, however,

well drilled and had good discipline and spirit . . . arms were

immediately issued."

For the brigade's well-used supporting arms, there was an intensive drive to clean up and service

all the heavy equipment—tanks,

trucks, and artillery pieces. For the

infantry battalions, one critical

need was new weapons. Many

rifles, BARs, and particularly

machine guns had been fired so

much that the barrels were burned

out, so replacements had to be

issued.

Clothing was a disaster. Dungarees were rotted all the way

through from rain and sweat, with

the camouflage design faded out.

Boots were "falling apart."

This kind of urgent need led

Muetzel to strong measures. He

badly wanted a new pair of boots,

for the ones he wore had two bullet holes in the uppers and soles

completely worn through. With

none available from Marine supplies, he headed for the Eighth

Army quartermaster. There he

found a group of "scruffy" Marines

being sharply told off for begging

by an immaculate (rear echelon)

Army major. The Marine group

gave up and left, but Muetzel,

looking like a "refugee" he admitted, persisted.

When the neatly-dressed major

turned to go back to his office,

Muetzel pushed into the building

wearing his steel helmet, a dungaree jacket and pants with gaping

holes, and tattered boots, and carrying a submachine gun and a .45

pistol on his hip. Now standing

face to face, the major saw the lieutenant's bars on Muetzel's collar,

glanced at his disreputable uniform, and started to say that he

could not issue any boots. That did

it! Muetzel burst out:

I told him, simply, that I

was just off the line, I was

going right back onto the line,

I was an infantry platoon

leader, I didn't have a hell of

a lot to lose, and I wanted a

pair of boots right then and

there! When he looked at my

boots and noticed the bullet

holes, he went right back into

his stock and brought out a

new pair of Army parachute

jump boots . . . . I was ready

to fight for those boots and

that major knew it.

All during this time, the senior

officers were involved in a different type of activity. They were

closeted, preparing the after action

reports, organizing the issue of

supplies for re-equipment, thrashing out an embarkation plan, and

familiarizing themselves with every

planned detail that pertained to

their unit's role in the forthcoming

landing. Craig pushed them hard

and soon—all too soon—the few

days allotted had rushed by, and it

was time to ship out. Starting the

64

afternoon of 11 September, the

troops began filing on board ship.

The next day, the convoy sailed.

Then, at 0001, 13 September, the

brigade was deactivated and

became part of the 1st Marine

Division, bound for the historic

amphibious assault at Inchon.

The brigade was now gone, but

not forgotten. There was formal

recognition of its achievements by

two governments. The first was a

Korean Presidential Unit Citation

which recorded "outstanding and

heroic performance of duty on the

field of battle." Referring to the

Naktong victories, the citation said:

"The brigade attacked with such

determination and skill as to earn

the admiration of all . . . . The gallant Marine forces were instrumental in preventing the enemy from

capturing their objective and cutting the north-south lines of communication. . The second award was a U.S.

Presidential Unit Citation. This was

a lengthy paean of praise for both

the ground forces and the aviation

units. It commended "extraordinary

heroism in action . . . relentless

determination . . . sheer resolution

and esprit de corps . . . the brilliant

record achieved. . . ." The award

covered not only the brigade's

ground units, hut also MAG-33 and

its squadrons.

They were fitting tributes to a

special group of men who had

truly earned a remarkable series of

triumphs.

It would be a long war for the

Marines in Korea, and there would

be other much more famous battles

to come, but the die was cast in

those crucial first weeks of combat

in August and September 1950. The

Marine Corps had again decisively

demonstrated that it was truly a

"force in readiness," and that its

rugged training and traditional

esprit de corps could lead it to victory in "every clime and place."
1.

•. :.

aptain John C. Chapin earned a

bachelor of arts degree with honors in history from Yale University in

1942 and was commissioned later that

year. He served as a rifle-platoon

leader in the 24th Marines, 4th Marine

Division, and was wounded in action

in World War II during assault landings on Roi-Namur and Saipan.

Transferred to duty at the

Historical Division, Headquarters

Marine Corps, he wrote the first official histories of the 4th and 5th

Marine Divisions. Moving to Reserve status at the end of the war,

he earned a master's degree in history at George Washington

University with a thesis on 'The Marine Occupation of Haiti, 19 15-

1922."

Now a captain in retired status, he served for many years, starting in 1983, as a volunteer at the Marine Corps Historical Center.

During that time he wrote the history of Marine Fighter-Attack

(VMFA) Squadron 115. With support from the Historical Center

and the Marine Corps Historical Foundation, he then spent some

years researching and interviewing for the writing of a new book,

Uncommon Men— The Sergeants Major of the Marine Corps. This

was published in 1992 by the White Mane Publishing Company.

As part of the Historical Center's series of pamphlets commemorating the 50th anniversary of World War II, Captain Chapin

wrote accounts of Marine operations in the Marshall Islands, on

Saipan and Bougainville, and Marine aviation in the Philippines.

THIS PAMPHLET HISTORY, one in a series devoted to U.S. Marines in

the Korean War era, is published for the education and training of

Marines by the History and Museums Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine

Corps, Washington, D.C., as part of the U.S. Department of Defense

observance of the 50th anniversary of that war. Editorial costs have been

defrayed in part by a 8ift from Chief Warrant Officer 4 Bertram Z. Lee,

USMCR (Ret), in honor of his son, Sergeant Joshua Lee.

KOREAN WAR COMMEMORATIVE SERIES

DIRECTOR OF MARINE CORPS HIS TORYAND MUSEUMS

Colonel John W. Ripley, USMC (Ret)

GENERAL EDITOR,

KOREAN WAR COMMEMORATIVE SERIES

Charles R. Smith

EDITING AND DESIGN SECTION HIS TORYAND MUSEUMS DIVJSION

Robert E. Struder, Senior Editor

W. Stephen Hifi, Visual Information Specialist

Catherine A. Kerns, Composition Services Technician

Marine Corps Historical Center

Building 58, Washington Navy Yard

Washington, D.C. 20374-5040

2000

PCN 19000315000

Sources

There are two basic official sources

for the story of these early days in the

Pusan Perimeter. For the Marine Corps, Lynn Montross and Capt Nicholas A. Canzona. USMC. The Pusan Perimeter,

vol. 1 of U.S. Marine Operations in Korea (Washington: Historical Branch,

G-3 Division, HQMC, 195 ). For the

Army, Roy E. Appleman, South to the

Naktong, North to the Yalu (JuneNovember 1950), United States Army in

The Korean War (Washington: Office of

the Chief of Military History, Department

of the Army, 1961).

Also published officially is: LtCol

Gary W. Parker, USMC, and Maj Frank M.

Batha, Jr., USMC, A History of Marine

Observation Squadron Six (Washington:

History and Museums Division, HQMC,

1982).

Three articles that are very helpful

and share a common publisher are: Ernest H. Giusti, "Marine Air Over the

Pusan Perimeter," Marine Corps Gazette,

May 1952: Lynn Montross, "The Pusan

Perimeter: Fight for a Foothold," Marine

corps Gazette, June 1951; Col Nicholas

A. Canzona, USMCR. "Marines Land at

Pusan, Korea-August 1950," Mari;ze

Corps Gazette, August 1985; and Maj Francis I. Fenton, Ir., USMC, "Changallon

Valley," Marine Corps Gazette,

November 1951.

There is a wide range of commercially published books. Among those that contained useful material are: John

Toland, In Mortal Combat-Korea. 1950-

1953 (New York: William Morrow and

Company, 1991); Lynn Montross,

Cavalry of the Sky-The Storl' of U.S. Marine Helicopters (New York: Harper

and Brothers, 1954); Edwin P. Hoyt, The Pusan Perimeter-Korea 1950 (New

York: Stein and Day, 1984); David

Douglas Duncan, This Is War' A PhotoNarrative in Three Parts (New York:

Harper and Brothers, 1950-51); Clay

Blair, The Forgotten War (New York:

Times Books, 1987); Max Hastings, The

Korean War (New York: Simon and

Schuster, 1987); T, R. Fehrenbach, This Kind qf War (New York: Macmillan,

1963); Joseph C. Goulden, Korea: The

Untold Story of the War (New York:

Times Books, 1982); Robert D. Heinl, Jr.,

Soldiers of the Sea: The United States

.tlarine Corps, 1775-1962 (Annapolis: United States Naval Institute, 1962); and

Robert Leckie, Conflict (New York:

Putman, 1962).

A recent publication is by BGen Uzal W. Ent, USA (Ret), Fighting On The

Brink: Defense of the Pusan Perimeter

(Paducah, Ky: Turner Publishing Company, 1996).

Particular acknowledgment is made of the valuable quotations in Donald

Knox, The Korean War-Pusan to ChosinAn Oral History (New York: Harcourt

Brace Jovanovich, 1985) and Andrew

Geer, The New Breed-The Story of the

U.S. Marines in Korea (Nashville: The

Battery Press, 1989).

In a different category is a book

which the author affirms is based on

actual Chinese sources: Russell Spurt.

Enter the Dragon-China's Undeclared

War Against the US. in Korea, 1950-51

(New York: Henry Holt, 19881).

Personal interviews were helpful in

meetings with: MajGen Robert D. Bohn.

USMC (Ret); MajGen Charles D. Mize,

USMC (Ret); and Col Robert D. Taplett,

USMC (Ret).

Information also was contributed by

MajGen Raymond L. Murray, USMC (Ret). and Col Francis 1. Fenton, Jr., L'SMC

(Ret), who kindly furnished postwar copies of The Guidon, a newsletter of B

Company, with personal memoirs of combat.

The oral history transcripts at the

Marine Corps Historical Center focus

mainly on later events in Korea, hut do have some observations by Craig,

Murray, Bohn, Stewart, Sivert, Lucy, and

LtCol Charles H. Brush, Jr., USMC, relating to the early days, In the Personal

Papers Collection [now located at the Marine Corps University] there is a long memoir by PFC Herbert R. Luster who was a BAR-man in Company A (l918-

1A44). The files of the Reference Section

contain much information pertinent to

individual biographies and unit histories.

Acknowledgement also is made to Cot David Douglas Duncan, USMCR (Ret),

for the use of his dramatic images.