Ellwood’s Odyssey

By Marshall Garvey and J. D. Weaver

Ellwood’s Odyssey is a unique historical fiction drama centered around people and families who face oppression and overcome it with success. The book begins with a man, Ellwood Washington, growing up in Los Angeles. Inspired by his father, he seeks greatness. His skills on the baseball field take him to the battlefield of the Korean War. His talents are required by his commanders to lead a perilous mission and capture a South Korean spy.

These life events eventually lead to another hero that must overcome his uncertainties. His travels take him across the globe as he tries to answer questions about his family and capabilities. As it turns out, his odyssey of self-discovery is just beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781669801542

Marshall Garvey

Marshall Garvey is a graduate of the University of California Davis with a Bachelor of Arts degree in History. He is an author, journalist, producer and historian. His publications can be found in the Sacramento Bee, Screen Rant, Dodger Nation, Cygnus X-1, Sacramento Historical Society and the Pacific Coast League Historical Society. John Douglas Weaver has a Bachelor of Arts degree in English from Whitworth University in Spokane, Washington. He is a General Engineering, General Building and Electrical contractor. His love of baseball and golf is what encouraged him to share this novel with you.

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Copyright © 2021 by Marshall Garvey & J. D. Weaver.

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Cover Design by Panagiotis Lampridis

Rev. date: 03/08/2023

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

827083

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Operation Tomahawk

Chapter 2 On the Ground

Chapter 3 Yu Bong-chang

Chapter 4 Rescue

Chapter 5 A Brief Encounter

Chapter 6 No Man Left Behind

Chapter 7 Expecting

Chapter 8 Ellwood Bong

Chapter 9 Norbert

Chapter 10 Australia

Chapter 11 Vietnam

Chapter 12 Business

Chapter 13 Idlewild

Chapter 14 Johnny Ritchey

Chapter 15 Precious

About The Authors

CHAPTER 1

Operation Tomahawk

F OR SGT. 1 ST Class Ellwood James Washington, it was just another jump. It was not only a military jump - the third he had made in Korea as a member of the renowned 187 th Airborne Division - but it was another symbolic jump in a young life filled with promise. At 23, he was in his prime, standing six feet tall with a physique like a bodybuilder and jet-black hair. He was always ready to seize any moment to prove himself, and this was one of those moments.

This particular jump was more significant than any other in his life or the lives of any of his fellow troops. Set to take place the next day, March 23, 1951, it was to be the opening salvo of Operation Tomahawk. Ellwood and 3,436 others were to take off in 120 C-119 Flying Boxcar and Curtis C-19 Commando transports from an air base in South Korea, then parachute into a region north of Seoul. Operation Tomahawk was the beating heart of Operation Courageous, the United Nations Command’s ambitious plan to trap Chinese and North Korean forces between the Han and Imjin Rivers. This operation allowed the U.S. 25th and 3rd Infantry Divisions and the South Korean 1st Infantry Division to advance quickly to the Imjin River with great haste.

It was a moment exactly one week in the making, although that one week felt like two lifetimes to someone as ready and eager as Ellwood. On March 16, the 187th was alerted that they would be dropping in the Ch’ongch’on area in four days. But the sudden escape of enemy forces forced General Matthew Ridgway to find another use for the 187th, and the drop was delayed to the 23rd. They were now set to parachute in and assault the area in the vicinity of Munsan-ni at 0900 hours.

Hearing of the three-day delay caused by unfavorable weather conditions, Ellwood reacted almost like a child whose Christmas had been canceled. It had been five months since the 187th’s last drop in October 1950, and he was itching for the adrenaline rush of parachuting into action and leading his men in battle. Of course, the delay was necessary to draw up a plan that was designed to trap enemy forces and adequately prepare all the equipment. In addition to over 3,400 troops and their supplies, 25 jeeps and heavy weaponry needed to be readied and loaded onto the planes.

Despite his eagerness, Ellwood understood the importance of taking the time to adjust strategy, especially in a war whose momentum seemed to swing in the other direction every month. He did his best to quell his frustration and pass the three-day wait with everyone else at Taegu Air Base. There were marathon games of poker, gin rummy, Texas hold ‘em, and seemingly every other card game known to mankind. When those had run their course, stories of home filled the void. As the aroma of cigarettes and Schlitz beer polluted the air inside the hangar, Ellwood and his platoon mates regaled their best and most boastful tales of skirt-chasing, barroom fights, hunting feats, and other masculine bravado.

With the beginning of baseball season a month away, the conversation occasionally turned towards whose favorite team would win the World Series this year. Johnny Vance and David Rosen, proud Brooklynites, insisted this would finally be the year their beloved Dodgers took home the championship. Sorry boys, Rosen said between puffs of his cigarette, we’ve got Jackie, Campy, Newk, and Pee Wee. We’ve been knockin’ on the door for a few years, and this time, we’re kicking it open!

Such declarations were met with mockery from Frank Devincinzi, a Bronx native who quickly reminded them that his Yankees were the two-time defending champs and had already beaten the Dodgers in the World Series multiple times. Sure you will, he shot back. And then the Yanks will slam it right back in your faces, just like always!

Evan Howard, a Manhattan-dweller, laughed at all of them with a guarantee that his New York Giants were poised for a decade of greatness like they had in the ‘20s. You’re both wrong, he chimed in. My Giants have a guy named Willie Mays in the minors that’s gonna tear up the league. This is our year!

Troops from the Midwest, like St. Louis Cardinals superfan Wendell Connor, provided not-so-gentle reminders that there were teams outside of New York City. George Kelly, an Irish American from the suburbs of Philadelphia, insisted his Phillies’ miracle pennant win the previous year was no fluke and that this time they’d take home the title as well. They don’t call ‘em the Whiz Kids for nothing! he proclaimed before gulping another dose of Schlitz.

While Ellwood was undoubtedly a fan of the national pastime, he was less interested in discussing major league teams than actually playing the game. When other troops started talking about baseball back home, he used it as a chance to propose a pick-up game in the grass field near the hangars. He figured it would be a great way to pass the time and further bond the troops before battle.

Maybe it would put some of their baseball arguments to rest too, like Wendell’s insistence that Stan Musial’s batting stance was the only way to hit the ball or Frank’s boasts that he could emulate Allie Reynolds’ delivery. Most important, it would help everyone let loose some of the pent-up intensity over Operation Tomahawk that the extra wait was creating.

But his suggestions were brushed aside by the others, some of whom simply weren’t interested in any extra physical activity beyond the drills necessary to prepare for the drop. Others declined out of concern that a stray pitch to the head or an awkward slide into second could lead to injury that would put them out of commission for the drop. "Excuses, Ellwood thought to himself. They brag about their baseball heroes back home, yet back down at a chance to prove their own mettle."

With no takers, the best Ellwood could do was grab an old baseball he had brought from home, set up a makeshift wood backstop outside the hangar, and bounce the ball off it. The rhythmic thud and skip of the ball as it ricocheted off the wooden slab and back to his outstretched hands helped put him somewhat at ease. Yet, it wasn’t enough to completely soothe the restlessness that engulfed his mind.

And he had plenty of reasons to be anxious. While there would be thousands of men carrying out this operation, the heart of it fell squarely on his shoulders. He was the leader of his squad, which was tasked with carrying out an act of espionage. Their mission is urgent: to save a South Korean spy that possessed detailed information about the location of North Korean forces. Taking out these targets was indispensable to cutting off the North’s ongoing siege of South Korean and United Nations forces.

Ellwood also felt the burden of great expectations from his platoon leader, Lt. Taylor Morehead, who never passed up an opportunity to praise Ellwood’s skills as a platoon sergeant. It was an admiration that Ellwood had earned. Besides his obvious physical skills, he possessed a shrewdness and an uncanny ability to predict what would happen next in combat, which had been a key to his survival and that of those he led on the battlefield.

But it wasn’t a predilection for a battle that prepared Ellwood for his current role as a leader of men. Instead, it was America’s purest and most civilized endeavor where he honed his leadership instincts: baseball. For him, the national pastime was more than a conversation starter as it was for many others at Taegu. It was the foundation of life itself, one that provided the philosophical, psychological, and physical framework conducive to being a great soldier.

The parallels between both fields seemed infinite to Ellwood. In baseball, even the slightest misstep while leading off first could lead to a runner getting picked off, just as a careless maneuver in enemy territory could blow a soldier’s cover and put him in a sniper’s crosshairs. Running from one point of cover to the next in a firefight was akin to the risk of stealing a base under the fielder’s tag.

And like a platoon of troops, a baseball team is a group of men with highly specialized roles who must execute their duties meticulously and to the best of their abilities in order to attain victory. Baseball is a sport whose competitive intensity is balanced by an intricate set of rules that, among many quirks, allows the visiting team to bat first. Likewise, a soldier must abide by the rules of engagement and treat captured enemy troops with dignity as per the Geneva Convention.

Most relevant of all to Ellwood was the battle between pitcher and batter. The face-to-face intensity, in which both men seek to assert their control of territory. Who ultimately controls that territory boiled down to lightning-fast reflexes, the odds of success ever precarious. In his view, that was the essence of both baseball and war.

His love of baseball was also a product of where he came from - Los Angeles. His idle time was spent either cheering the Pacific Coast League’s Angels at Wrigley Field on Avalon Blvd. or playing pickup games with friends or in local amateur leagues around his hometown, Huntington Park. Both places gave Ellwood the same sensations that only baseball could create. The affirmation that came with victory, the stark regret of defeat, the voltaic energy of grandstands and bleachers brimming with people, the suspense of a 3-2 count with two outs and the bases loaded - nothing else in the world came close to the magic of the great game.

Sentimental as both Wrigley Field and Huntington Park were to Ellwood, they couldn’t have been more different in terms of stature and design. Wrigley Field was one of the most renowned ballparks in the minor leagues, with towering grandstands and expansive bleachers with a capacity of 20,000 fans. The outfield was so rustic that the park was frequently used as a backdrop for Hollywood movies about baseball, including the Gary Cooper vehicle The Pride of the Yankees. The Angels themselves added to the prestige by winning ten minor league titles by 1951.

Meanwhile, the local diamond in the southern tip of Huntington Park was more ragged and well-worn than the battered gloves the players used. The outfield grass was unkempt, with chunks ripped out by diving catches. The cage behind home plate was rusted, its wooden backstop speckled with the last shreds of green paint that hadn’t been chipped off by foul balls and wild pitches. The stands were rudimentary and small, only big enough to seat the most devoted cranks. Yet it was precisely these ragged details that made it the ideal place for locals of all persuasions to gather and play a quick game, or even organize an informal season.

Most of the friends and acquaintances who played with Ellwood didn’t aspire to professional glory with the Angels and beyond. For them, it was just a fun way to fill their weekends and summer afternoons. Ellwood’s skills, however, were ample enough to foreshadow a future in the major leagues. He had a keen perceptiveness for the movement of a baseball. The moment the ball departed from the pitcher’s fingertips, his eyes were locked on it, often deciphering where it would end up in the strike zone. He could see the seams of the baseball the minute the ball left the pitcher’s hand.

Whenever a flyball of his found open real estate in the outfield, be it in the gap or immediately cut off by an outfielder, he’d immediately try to leg it out for extra bases. The moment the ball touched the grass, his adrenaline kicked into overdrive, sprinting to the farthest base he could and sliding so brazenly into it that to those in the stands, it looked as if he had disappeared in a thick cloud of infield dust. This gambit wasn’t always successful - sometimes, the dust would clear to reveal he had safely reached second. Just as much, it would show he had been tagged out after a clean relay throw from the outfield.

Hitting every kind of pitch at the plate, and beating numerous throws from the outfield by a hair at second or third, turned out to be ideal preparation for being a soldier. There exists a universe of difference between the stakes of a friendly game of baseball and a major war, yet for Ellwood, success at both stemmed from the same place. Just as readily as he hit every pitch and ran the bases, he knew how to dodge bullets and negotiate a battlefield with grace and enthusiasm.

Given his young age and the recent obliteration of Major League Baseball’s color barrier by Jackie Robinson and Larry Doby, it was more than realistic for him to chase the dream of being a professional ballplayer. Black players were steadily gaining prominence across MLB and lifting their teams to success in the process. Ellwood Washington was a name that just sounded like it belonged to a baseball legend, one whose picture, showing him sliding safely into second or lashing a line drive to left, would grace countless cards, books and documentaries. Perhaps he would even play for his hometown Angels en route to that stardom.

As much as he loved to pulverize a seamed ball covered in cowhide, Ellwood understood his gifts were needed much more in the higher calling of serving his country. The United States military had been officially desegregated just one year after Major League Baseball, by way of an executive order from President Harry S. Truman. Immediately after the order was issued, he enlisted, hoping his chance on the battlefield would come quickly. He was too young to serve in World War II, even after President Franklin D. Roosevelt lowered the minimum enlistment age to 18 in 1942.

Even then, Ellwood played his part in the war effort through strenuous labor on the homefront. Industry boomed in Los Angeles, leading the city to produce 17% of the nation’s war needs. So he got a job at North American Aviation’s main plant in Inglewood. He took pride in his work fitting vaunted aircraft like the P-51 Mustang and B-25 Mitchell bomber, but he longed to be a part of the action thousands of miles away among the one million African American troops in service.

While it may not have been as glorious as heroics in Europe or the Pacific, working in the wartime industry gave him the chance to honor his parents. Ellwood was the first-born son of Thornton Cornelius and Precious Sunshine Washington, who moved to Los Angeles from Macomb County, Michigan, in 1925. On January 20, 1928, Ellwood was born and enjoyed a comfortable childhood, thanks to Thornton’s job at the Ford automobile manufacturing plant in Long Beach. Thornton eventually became a volunteer fireman at Station 14 in Los Angeles and was hired full-time several years later. He also became the landlord of the three-tenant apartment building they occupied. In May of 1933, the family welcomed another son, Norbert.

Ellwood and Norbert couldn’t have asked for better parents. Thornton was a kind soul with a grandfatherly way about him. A bit portly, he always wore a buttoned-down white shirt and brown overalls, along with a black porkpie hat. He had a graying mustache, completing the portrait of a true gentleman. At home, he could usually be found in his favorite green chair in the living room, a pipe in his mouth, and a newspaper in both hands as jazz by Duke Ellington, Cab Calloway, and Bessie Smith wafted from the record player.

Nowhere was Thornton’s tenderness more evident than the way he raised his sons. Never once did he strike Ellwood or Norbert when they did wrong. Instead, he made them complete demanding, albeit fair, work tasks around the house that taught not only responsibility but the idea that good work builds character. Besides a dedication to honest work, he instilled in both sons a love for sports, taking them to the park for games of catch and Wrigley Field for Angels games almost as soon as they could walk.

Even more loving was Precious, who exuded warmth and compassion that befit her name. She was a true beauty, slender with perfectly coiffed black hair. Friends and relatives of the Washingtons could always anticipate her hospitality at picnics, parties, and holiday gatherings. Wearing one of her signature bright floral dresses, she sang joyfully as she prepared her specialty collard greens and turkey. Ellwood and Norbert were her pride and joy, for whom she was grateful to impart her love and create a cozy household for them. While Thornton shaped the young boy’s love of sports and respect for honest labor, Precious instilled in them her deep faith in the Lord. Whatever happens in life, good and bad, it happens for a divine reason, as she would gently reassure them on a regular basis.

The Washingtons enjoyed the spoils of their middle-class lifestyle - stylish clothes for nights on the town, the best cars, state-of-the-art RCA radios for the living room, and season tickets to the Angels. Summers were spent vacationing up and down the West Coast. In between the demands of firefighting, now his full-time occupation after leaving the Ford plant, Thornton was able to blow off steam with his favorite hobby, golf, a passion he tried to hand down to his oldest son. But Ellwood gravitated naturally to baseball. Its situational intensity sparked his imagination more than the slow pace of golf. Instead, it was Norbert who took to golf and began to accompany Thornton to the course at age eight.

Fortunately, while Thornton couldn’t impart a love for the game to Ellwood, he did teach him a valuable lesson that was just as important for playing baseball: never, ever cheat. Whether you succeed or fail, fill your efforts with honor and respect. Play by the rules, do everything transparently, respect those you play against, and be mindful of those who’ve taught you what you know. This strict adherence to professional integrity not only shaped Ellwood’s approach to baseball but would later provide an incentive for his decision to enlist in the military.

Now, the day before his most significant drop yet, those lessons from Thornton held new urgency for Ellwood. It was late in the afternoon at Taegu, and with every idle activity having been done multiple times the past several days, Ellwood now relaxed in his cot. All that was left was a final debriefing from Lt. Morehead, followed by a last-minute supply check, dinner, and bed. It was the ideal time to reminisce on his life and recount the exact moments that set him on his long path to Korea. After all, a childhood of rare comfort (especially for a Black family during the Great Depression) doesn’t usually lead to a life in the military and all the rigors that a soldier’s life entails.

But one traumatic moment upended this domestic bliss and forever set the course of Ellwood’s adult life years before it began.

As he lay on his bunk, it all came flooding back.

Friday, June 12, 1942. Ellwood was just leaving class on the final day of his freshman year of high school when a black car suddenly pulled up to the curbside. The front passenger window rolled down to reveal his uncle, Ralph Washington, a look of terror on his face. Ellwood, get in! he shouted at the top of his lungs. Ellwood jumped in the front seat, and Ralph stepped on the gas. Then, he delivered the unthinkable news.

Ellwood, your father had a heart attack, said Ralph as his hands tightened on the wheel.

Ellwood sat silent. He couldn’t comprehend the thought of his active father on the brink of death. No...no, was all he could muster.

Ellwood and Ralph arrived at the hospital in what felt like mere seconds. They entered the waiting room to the sight of Precious standing in the middle of the room and sobbing while Norbert tried to comfort her. Ellwood approached them, but just then, the doctor entered the room.

The Washingtons gathered near the doctor, who was unable to conceal his mournful expression as he spoke: I’m sorry, Mrs. Washington, but your husband has passed away.

Precious fell to the floor, and Norbert knelt beside her, holding her as they both cried. Ellwood felt a numbness shoot through his entire body as he collapsed in a chair, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. The sheer rapidity of his father’s death was crushing. Minutes ago, he was happily daydreaming about a summer of Angels baseball games with his family while waiting through his last hour of class. Now, he was fatherless at age 14.

For Ellwood, losing his hero, his mentor, and his father was a surreal experience. Already in the emotional uncertainty of adolescence, a time of questioning higher authority, Ellwood raged at God. Why would anyone want to take a man as loving, honest, and dedicated as Thornton Washington? Precious, grief-stricken as she was, tried her best to reassure him: God needed him, son. Maybe more than you do. You will be stronger for this in time.

But young Ellwood struggled to understand this plan. The death of someone or something so beloved cannot justify the infinite blur of days of darkness, with endless rumination of what would have happened as opposed to what’s happening. His attempts at prayer in the weeks and months that followed frequently turned into self-doubt and uncertainty. Where is my Dad now, God? Where can I turn for the guidance he gave me? Can I ever be the man he wanted me to be without his support? What can I do to have just one more moment with him?

Thornton’s death not only took away Ellwood’s mentor; it also shook the stability of the family. Precious struggled to provide for two sons all by herself, so she asked Uncle Ralph and his wife, Betty Washington, to raise the boys to continue to have a secure home life. While their relatives provided much love and security, nothing could replace the combined wisdom and compassion of Thornton and Precious.

As Ellwood lay in his cot at Taegu, the painful sensations from nine years ago rekindled themselves in his heightened state of mind. He fought back the tears, not wanting to break down while the other men maintained such stoic demeanors on the eve of combat. He suppressed the tears, but the realization of how little the passage of time had soothed the pain of Thornton’s death hit him deeply.

It was a loss so devastating, especially at such a young age, that it would stand to reason he would have lost his way in life after that. But Ellwood, even at 14, knew he had to make something of himself not only for his sake, but also to fulfill his father’s great hopes for him. World War II provided that opportunity, and while he was too young to serve, he saw a chance to prove himself as the wartime industry proliferated across Los Angeles. He dropped out of high school and applied for a job at the North American Aviation plant in Inglewood.

He was also too young to work in a factory. Federal child labor laws prohibited it, so he lied about his age on the application. It certainly helped that the plant foreman didn’t exactly scrutinize him. They accepted all the hired hands they could get since most working-age men had enlisted or been drafted.

The decision to drop out of high school and work underage was unsurprisingly met with stern disdain from his aunt and uncle. Still, he was eventually able to convince them that building aircraft to support such an important war effort was precisely the way to honor what Thornton had taught him. By helping to build the airplanes used by U.S. forces to fight fascism in Europe and the Pacific, Ellwood told Ralph and Betty, he was aiding the highest form of selflessness, a virtue Thornton always emphasized.

Working at the Inglewood plant became a source of personal growth as well as income for Ellwood. He made sure to give part of his pay to Precious, who had managed to find a wartime factory job with Douglas Aircraft. To accommodate her job, she moved out of the Washingtons’ old apartment and moved into the makeshift community erected near the plant to house the massive influx of new workers. Every time Ellwood cashed his paycheck and gave money to his mother, he thought of his father and how proud he would be of his oldest son.

Yet, the disappointment of not being old enough to honor Thornton on the battlefield still ate at him. No matter how meticulous he was in welding the aircraft fuselages, he could not help but compare his relatively diminutive efforts to that of the men who would climb into that plane and fly into battle. Nevertheless, he celebrated along with everyone else when V-J Day arrived in August of 1945. After hearing the news of the Allied Forces victory on the radio in his relatives’ living room, he and Norbert ran to Seventh and Broadway downtown, jumping up and down and hugging strangers amongst the crowds of cheering Angelenos.

But the euphoria of the defeat of fascist regimes in Europe and the Pacific was quickly supplanted by a new fear of communism. In a speech in Fulton, Missouri, in March of 1946, former U.K. Prime Minister Winston Churchill warned that an Iron Curtain was descending across Europe. In the years immediately following the end of World War II, the Soviet Union began to aggressively expand its influence across Eastern Europe. Countries like Hungary, Romania, Poland, and Czechoslovakia were turned into Soviet satellite states, while the Marshall Plan sent U.S. aid to 16 European countries ravaged by WWII in hopes of