Frozen Chosin (Korea): The March Out

By Charles F. David

This book, Frozen Chosin, are stories wrapped in fiction. They tell about the U.S. Marines that fought their way from the Chosin Reservoir south to the sea.
They fought their way south, down the narrow road that led them out. They braved the subzero weather, and the hordes of Chinese that were there hell-bent on annihilating the First Marine Division.
These men marched out, bringing with them their dead and wounded and most of their equipment. They made it to Wonsan and the ships that were there to take them out. Brave men that lived to fight another day.


Authors other books:
BOOTPRINTS across AFGHANISTAN
DEATH and GLORY (IRAQ)
2nd TOUR AFGHANISTAN (Sequel to BOOTRINTS across AFGHANISTAN)
BLOOD TRAIL (Vietnam)
REMEMBER TO DIE (Vietnam)
RETURN TO HELL (Vietnam)
FIRE BASE X-RAY (Vietnam)
FADED GLORY (Korea) The Forgotten War

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469170510

Charles F. David

-

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Charles F. David.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012903351

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4691-7050-3

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4691-7049-7

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4691-7051-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

108920

CONTENTS

Preface

Korea

Dedication

Commemoration

A Marine’s Thoughts

A Marine Dress Down

1  The Answer

2  Getting It Done

3  Down The Drain

4  Scott Free

5  Mess Them Up

6  Squeeze One Off

7  Smell Them

8  Full-Blooded Commie

9  Marshmallows

10  All Over Us

11  Check It Out

12  Nerve-Racking

13  Casualty List

14  Lit Out

15  Go From Here

16  Road Out

17  Only Way Out

18  Out Of Here

19  Walking Into Hell

20  Death Came Looking

21  Hell Froze Over

22  Warming Tents

23  Keep Moving

24  Dunkirk

25  Purple-Heart Marines

26

Epilogue

COVER ILLUSTRATIONS BY:

D. E. FERGUSON

Preface

FROZEN CHOSIN is a sequel to FADED GLORY. Fictional stories wrapped around scenarios that could and may have happened to the U.S. Marines that fought in Korea. The book FADED GLORY got the marines to the Chosin Reservoir, and this book FROZEN CHOSIN tells the stories of the men that made the march out to the sea.

Stories about the sacrifices the men made fighting their way south, fighting through overwhelming numbers of Chinese that entered the war. These men fought under conditions never heard of, conditions sometimes greater than the enemy troops that were there to take them out. Weather so cold that men on both sides froze to death.

They knocked out roadblock after roadblock as they made their way back down the narrow road out. Bugle-blowing Chinese on the hillsides putting fire down, determined to stop their withdrawal, were there in overwhelming numbers.

FROZEN CHOSIN tries to let its readers see and feel what these brave men went through on that cold Korean narrow road out.

These men were and are a credit to the United States Marine Corps.

Semper fi.

Korea

Korea, a place the men that fought there will not soon forget. A place where many of the men still lie, buried in time in unmarked graves. Men left behind where they fell. Voices in the darkness, crying out to come home.

A war forgotten by many, but not by the men that fought there. A war that has been pushed to the side, remaining a hushed issue. No victors, no vanquished.

The dead still linger behind, free from the cold winds that blow across the barren hillsides. They stay behind, trapped in a foreign land far from where they wanted to be.

Honor those men that fought there, the living and the dead. Never forget the men that stayed behind, the POWs that never returned. Remember those fallen heroes.

NEVER FORGET.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the men that fought there, and especially to the men we left behind. To the dead and to the POWs that never returned. To all the men that fought there, in every branch of the service. Army, navy, air force, and marines. To the men from far-off countries that were there to bring an end to the hostilities.

We who remember will never forget these brave men—heroes all who gave their all.

We who remember salute these brave men.

Commemoration

This book FROZEN CHOSIN (The March Out) is a sequel to FADED GLORY (The Forgotten War). It was written to honor the memory and serve as a memorial to all who served. It was written to honor the living and the dead.

This book was meant to keep alive the experiences our men had to face on the MARCH OUT of that HELL.

The KOREAN WAR was labeled as a police action, a slight to the men who fought there. To the dead still buried in unmarked graves, still lying where they fell. To the POWs left behind, never to return.

Never forget these brave men—the CHOSIN FEW.

A Marine’s Thoughts

Korea: a cold hard place, where snow and ice ruled the day. A place where death awaited us all. I remember my dead brothers who fell as we fought to stay alive in that hell.

We were brothers, young and brave, tied to each other by an unwritten bond. A bond greater than us all. Brothers in green, fighting for one another and for our beloved Corps.

I watched men fall bloody and broken, never again to raise their heads to look toward the heavens. I watched them die, eager to leave the hell they were in.

Together we struggled to face it all, a place where none of us wanted to be. We kept it all together in that frozen hell.

Take away my soul; I am lost in this foreign land called Korea. I feel locked out of heaven in this place we all call hell.

Where the hell is Jesus? Can’t he see our bloody faces in this hell where we all have been thrown?

We suffer and we die, waiting for the good Lord to take us all. We hang on to the fringes of heaven trying to get in.

Deep down I know there is a place in hell with my name, rank, and serial number on it. It has been reserved just for me, where all my fallen buddies wait to reunite.

Just a marine who can’t forget.

Semper fi.

A Marine Dress Down

ATTENTION.

You men are marines. You belong to Mother Green and are a part of her fighting machine. You’re part of a brotherhood.

From now on and until the day you die, wherever you are, every marine is your brother.

These battles you will take on will measure your strength.

Marines will die, that’s what we’re here for.

You may die, but the Marine Corps will live forever. That means you will live forever.

God has a hard-on for marines, because we kill all of our enemies we go up against. He plays his game, we play ours. We keep heaven packed with fresh souls.

God was here before the Marine Corps, so you can give your heart to Jesus but your ass belongs to the Corps.

In the days ahead, you will maybe make the ultimate sacrifice. Remember, we take it as it comes. We’re marines.

SEMPER FI

TWO GREAT BOOKS ABOUT THE KOREAN WAR

FADED GLORY (KOREA) The Forgotten War

THE SEQUEL

FROZEN CHOSIN (KOREA) The March Out

image.jpg

Chapter 1

The Answer

Time line: Hagaru-ri Korea, 1950. Stepping stone for the First Marine Division moving north to the Chosin Reservoir. Hagaru-ri had been hit hard the previous night by a Chinese division that was hell-bent on overrunning the marines that held it. Despite waves of attacks by the Chinese, the marines held. The supply depot, airstrip, and field hospital were still in marine hands.

Hagaru-ri looked like an old mining camp back in the States. Dilapidated Korean hooches, amongst rows of tents ammo and supply dumps. The marines had carved out an airstrip that needed to be held at all costs. Planes that were bringing in supplies were used to evacuate the marine casualties.

This particular day, it became a sanctuary for Sergeant Stryker and the men he brought in from the hilltop outpost they had abandoned the previous day. The small column of vehicles was jam-packed with dead and wounded that came off the hill they gave back to the Chicoms. They made their way to the med tents where they unloaded their casualties, then headed for the warming tents. This taken care of, Stryker made his way to the command bunker to report in. At the bunker he found the brass waiting to hear what he and his men went through to make it in. Once there, he was met by Colonel Hastings and introduced to the other officers.

Sergeant Stryker, glad to see you made it back. By all reports, you and your men had one hell of a time getting here. I believe you know Major Dalton. Captain Brewster just arrived from the States—he’s yet to get his feet wet. The brass thought long and hard about pulling your unit off that hill. Strategically it was no longer needed, made no sense in trying to hang on to it. The Chicoms are all over those hills, and we’re stretched too thin to play footsie with them. We’ve been probed for days, and came under heavy attack last night by a huge force. We expect to get hit again tonight.

Saw the enemy buildup on the way in, sir. We put a hurt on the Chinese back on that hill but lost a lot of good men getting it done. They came at us in overwhelming numbers, and we took them out by the hundreds. We took our share of casualties, but nothing like the Chicoms suffered. That hill is one bloody graveyard. Will me and my men be moving north to hook up with our unit, sir?

Looks like you’re anxious to get back in the shit, Sergeant. There’s plenty of it up ahead waiting. I’m sure the Chinese won’t disappoint you. Come daylight tomorrow, Captain Brewster will be heading north with a convoy carrying men and supplies to your unit that is moving up to Yudam-ni. You and any able-bodied men with you will be on that convoy, Sergeant. Regiment will need any marine still standing and able to carry a weapon. The Chinese are into this cluster-fuck now and have been seen crossing the Yalu in force. Things are going to heat up fast and get hairy up there, Sergeant. Get your men resupplied and ready to move out come daylight.

Sir, one of my sergeants and three of his men went back to pick up a pilot from a Corsair that went down. Has there been any word of how they made out?

Negative, Sergeant. A spotter plane went back in and flew over the wreckage but saw no movement on the ground. They reported seeing a jeep burning nearby that had been knocked out by enemy fire. I take it that was the jeep your men went in on. I’m afraid it doesn’t look good, Sergeant.

I would like to take one man and a jeep and go out to see if we can locate them, sir.

No way, Sergeant. You would never make it. Even if you did, you would never make it back. The Chinese are closing in on this area—you wouldn’t have a chance. You’re needed here, Sergeant. We can’t afford to lose you. We’re short of noncoms as it is. If your men haven’t already been picked up by the Chinese, they still stand a fifty-fifty chance of making it back. The spotter plane took ground fire and couldn’t hang around to give the area a good once-over. Marine artillery will open up a path out of here when the trucks are ready to shove off in the AM. If any news of your men surfaces, you’ll be the first to know. With any luck, your men will be back here before the day is over, with the pilot they went out to retrieve. Take care of your men and get them fed, Sergeant. I believe the mess is serving a Thanksgiving dinner.

That said, Sergeant Stryker headed back to where he left his men. He found them outside the mess tent, bitching about the food that was doled out to them. The mashed potatoes and gravy had frozen on their mess kit almost before they had a chance to give it a try.

Sarge, take a look at this. By the time we cleared the mess tent and got ready to put a fork in this grub, the damn stuff froze. How the hell do they expect us to eat this stuff? First hot meal we’ve had in quite a while, and it turns out to be a frozen dinner. Ice-cold candied sweet potatoes and sausage stuffing. The cooks call this Thanksgiving dinner. Everything I walked out of the tent with is frozen.

Well, go back in for seconds, and don’t wait so long before you put a fork in it. Got the skinny on what’s coming down. Everybody that’s fit will be moving out in the morning. We’ll be heading north to hook up with the regiment. After you get some of that chow down, get your ass in those warming tents and thaw out. Take advantage of it while you can. It’s going to be cold as hell up north.

Sarge, any word on Dance and the others? Do you think they made it?

Dance is pretty savvy. If anybody can make it back, it will be him. Don’t cut him short. I expect to see him waltz in here any time now with that pilot him and the guys went out for. After you all get situated, I’ll check you out to make sure you’re fit to travel. Nobody heads north with frozen feet. I’ll see to it that you get a clothing issue and extra dry socks.

As nightfall closed in, the men spent their time preparing for what was to come the next morning. Stryker passed through the tents, checking the men for frostbite.

Private Carter, those feet of yours don’t look too good. My orders were that only the men fit to travel would be going north in the morning. Get your ass over to the med tent pronto.

Sarge, my feet are okay. I’m good to go.

Can it, Private. Let the medics have a look. If they give you a clean bill of health, I’ll buy it. Otherwise, your ass is on a plane out of here.

Along about midnight, after the men had turned in to grab some shut-eye, Hagaru again came under attack. Heavy enemy mortars began to pound the base.

The men jarred from what they thought would be a few hours of sleep next to a hot stove in a warming tent, were roused out of the sack. Enemy mortar shells were plastering the area. They quickly dressed, grabbed their weapons and were out side the tents looking for a hole to dive into.

Stryker, don’t these Chinks know that we’re trying to grab a few winks? Why don’t the mother-fuckers hit us during the day, so we can get some shut-eye when the sun goes down? They work everything ass backwards.

Tell you what, Corporal Dawson. The next time I come face to face with the Chinese brass, I’ll see if I can get things switched around. Until then, I guess you’ll have some sleepless nights. Get the men out of the tents and into the slit trenches. By the looks of it, the Chicoms are going to try and run right over this place.

Illumination shells and hundreds of muzzle flashes revealed the attacking Chinese that surged toward the Hagaru-ri defensive positions. With bugles and horns blowing, the Chinese attacked in human waves. Where one fell, another took his place. The marines couldn’t kill them fast enough. When an enemy soldier was hit by marine fire and went down, an unarmed Chinese soldier in the rear picked up his weapon and kept coming. The Chinese had more men then they had weapons.

When the Chinese attacked around midnight, the temperature had already dipped to twenty below. Some of the marines that had spent time pulling guard duty in the cold night air found that their weapons had froze up.

Fire that weapon, Private. What the hell is your problem? Are you waiting for one of those Chinks to run up and put a bayonet up your ass?

No can do, Sarge. The firing pin froze up. I’ve been using hair tonic to keep it lubricated. It was working real good up until two days ago when I ran out of the stuff. Guess I didn’t work the action regular enough. I’ll get the f-cking thing working or die trying.

After an hour of heavy fighting, the Chinese—after taking heavy losses—broke it off and fell back. They fell back leaving hundreds of dead and wounded. For the next hour or two, the marines could hear the Chinese picking up their wounded, and also weapons that had been left on the battlefield.

What do you think, Sarge, think they’ll hit us again? They’ve been scurrying around out there like a pack of rats, picking up their wounded. I think the little mothers are picking up weapons too. If it wasn’t so damn dark out there, we could pick off some of the gooks retrieving their arms. When they came at us, we really kicked their ass. We knocked them down like so many bowling pins. We kill them by the hundreds, and they just keep coming. How many Chinks do you think they have out there for us to kill off?

Most of those gooks are conscripts, Dawson. They don’t really want to be here. A little prodding, along with some dope, and they’re ready to take a bullet. Did you notice, half of them didn’t even have a weapon. They had to wait until the Chink in front of them went down to pick one up, so they could keep coming at us. They have more people then weapons. Keep the men outside in the slit trench and on the alert. They might just hit us again.

Little did the marines know, the gooks were already back. The Chinese had filtered in when their wounded were being picked up. Sappers were already in the perimeter. They had worked their way in without being detected, carrying satchel charges they intended to use on the supply dumps.

As the men waited for another frontal attack, they were jolted by an explosion that rocked the camp. The sappers had made it to one of the supply dumps and had blown it all to hell. Rifle ammo was cooking off, with bullets going skyward and in all directions. Tracers were lighting up the night sky, like a Fourth of July fireworks show. On top of it all, like it was a prearranged signal, the Chinese initiated another attack. They hit the base again, even harder than the previous attack.

Chinese bugles blared as their mortars dropped in. As before, the attacking Chinese had more men than weapons. The flares that lazily floated down lit up the ground that was being covered by the Chinese. They came again, wave after wave, hurling themselves into the curtain of marine artillery and machine-gun fire that cut them down by the hundreds. Marine riflemen in their foxholes kept busy picking off the enemy soldiers that kept coming.

Damn, Sarge, there’s no end to these gooks. We’re stacking them up out there, and still they keep coming. They’re falling down, just trying to crawl over their own dead. There’s no end to these bastards.

When the Chinese sappers blew the ammo dump, the explosion took with it the trucks that were being loaded for the convoy that was scheduled to move out and head north to hook up with the marines that were waiting to be resupplied.

The marine guards on the supply dumps were now aware that the Chinese had penetrated the base perimeter, and busied themselves taking out the infiltrators that had broken through. The Chinese goal was to annihilate the First Marine Division and every marine in it.

Stryker, there’s a Captain Brewster on the horn. Says he needs to talk to you ASAP. Sounds important, better get on it.

Captain Brewster back at the CP was busy sending men to plug any hole when the Chinese got close to busting through. A few of the Chinese had made it as far as the airstrip, and men were needed to give the engineers that were working under the lights carving out the landing strip a hand.

Sergeant Stryker, a few of the Chicoms broke through and have made it as far as the landing strip where the engineers are working. I need you to take some of your men and get over there pronto.

Stryker put a quick reaction force together and headed for the airstrip. The engineers were working around the clock, and all through the night with the use of lights that lit their area up. Each time they came under attack, they parked their dozers and headed to the cover of the foxholes. They used explosives to break through the frozen ground and had foxholes lining the soon-to-be airstrip. Machine guns were set up for their defense, with mortar tubes backing them up.

When Stryker and his men reached the construction site, they could see the men working on the airstrip under attack. A platoon-sized group of Chinese was trying to bring the work to a halt.

Corporal Dawson, have the men with the BARs open up and see if we can bust this shindig up. Those gooks are close to overrunning those boys. I’m going to take a couple of the men and see if we can work our way in. Put some pressure on those Chinks, and see if you can outflank them.

Stryker got on the radio and got the attention of the engineers that were fighting for all they were worth, and let them know he and his men were working their way in.

Hold your fire. We’re on your west perimeter and coming in. The bulk of the enemy is coming in on your north. I have men moving in on their flank to try and slow them down. Try not to take them for the enemy. Don’t get trigger happy, don’t need friendly fire taking any of my men out.

Stryker made his way through their barbed-wire defenses, and to the foxholes where the machines gunners were laying down a field of fire.

We’re sure glad to see you guys. These Chicoms are about to overrun us. I put a call into the CP for tank support. Did you bring one with you?

Afraid not, Sergeant. I don’t think there’s one to be had. They have their hands full—they’re all tied up on the north perimeter. Why don’t you take one of your dozers and do a number on those gooks? Pick up that blade and give us a shield, and me and my boys will hop on and give you the firepower you’ll need to bust those mother-fuckers up.

The dozer operator jumped on the piece of equipment that sat running, and moved out toward the perimeter where the Chinese were about to break through. The dozer bristled with armor, Stryker and his men had jumped on and were putting down fire on the Chinese that now were stopped in their tracks.

The dozer moved forward, with enemy bullets bouncing and pinging off the moving hunk of iron. Stryker’s man with the BAR was up on top, getting the attention of the enemy attackers. Like a great slow-moving iron monster, it moved out to confront the Chinese that were now turning and running smack into Stryker’s other men. Things were coming together, with the Chinese holding the short end of the stick. After a short ten-minute firefight,