20th century AD

Carol A. Kelly

"The call for an armistice, first delivered on Sunday June 23[1951], by Jacob Malik, Deputy Foreign Commissar of the Soviet Union and Soviet Delegate to the United Nations, brought increased activity on the political and propaganda fronts...," GEN Matthew B. Ridgway writes in his book The Korean War.

"On June 30," he continues, "at the direction of my superiors in Washington, I made a broadcast to the Chinese High Command stating that if, as was reported, it was ready for a cease-fire, the United Nations command would be willing to send representatives to discuss an armistice. It took but a few days to make contact and agree upon a meeting place--the west coast town of Kaesong, just south of the 38th parallel....

"I was not unfamiliar with the Communist tactic of trying to wear down an opponent through endless and pointless argument... but I could not begin to foresee the wearying months of fruitless discussion that lay ahead. While both sides had immediately agreed that hostilities should continue during negotiations, it seemed to me, with a cease-fire faintly visible on the horizon, that I should do all I could to keep our losses at a justifiable minimum. I notified our commanders therefore that we would conduct no major offensives....

"When the first anniversary of the opening of hostilities arrived [25 June 1951], I thought peace might be just around the next corner. Yet there were still two years and many lives and much blood between us and this constant dream of every solider."

In those two years, according to sources, 575 meetings were held and 18,000,000 words exchanged before the truce was finally signed on 27 July 1953.

Meanwhile, among those who dreamed the dream that Ridgway referred to were this month's contributors to The Officer's series. One of them, COL Philip G. Hale, USAR (Ret.), of Williamsburg, Va., notes that he served with "the Third Man Group," those stationed in Europe during the Korean War. He designates as the first group, the servicemen and women serving in the States, and in the second, those in Korea and the Pacific. In their stories that follow, this month's ROA members represent all three groups, serving from locations in Indiana and Georgia to Japan and Korea, from Inchon and Izmir to Djibouti and Salzburg.

28-30 JUNE 1951 JOHNSON AIR BASE, JAPAN TO USS WHITESIDE

Col Marcus C. West, USAF (Ret.), of Yankeetown, Fla., served in the Pacific Theater during WWII, flying OA-10 Catalinas. He had 146 missions on the Berlin Airlift, flying C-54s. He retired in 1971 with 6,000 hours of flying time in approximately 35 different types of military aircraft.

During the Korean War, Colonel West was a first lieutenant with the 3rd Rescue Squadron, Out of Johnson Air Base, Japan. On 28 June 1951, at 0314 hours, then-First Lieutenant West headed out on what he describes as "the most exciting and harrowing mission I was ever on. In Air Force SA-16 9082, a Grumman Albatross amphibian, he was to rendezvous with a Navy supply ship, the USS Whiteside, about 450 nautical miles east-northeast of Japan. On board the Whiteside was a Navy medical corpsman "who would probably die unless he received an emergency appendectomy."

"In addition to myself as aircraft commander, my crew consisted of Lt Col Ted Tatum as copilot, 1st Lt Ed Crevonis as navigator, S/Sgt. Jack McKenna as flight engineer, and S/Sgt. John Burchett as radio operator. Also aboard were a flight surgeon and surgical nurse from the Johnson Air Base Hospital," Colonel West recalls.

"Although the weather at departure was VFR (visual flight rules), we were in 100 percent instrument conditions by the time we reached our assigned cruising altitude. The en route weather forecast was for extremely poor weather conditions for the entire route with the rendezvous forecast to have intense rain squalls, extremely low ceilings, and heavy seas," he continues.

"Because the weather was socked in the entire route, Lieutenant Crevonis was unable to use his sextant for star fixes, or his drift meter to get ground speed and drift from the ocean surface....

"About 40 miles prior to reaching the ship, Lieutenant Crevonis picked up the Whiteside on radar, dead ahead.... The Whiteside reported six-foot waves at their position.

"Just as our ETA was up, through intermittent rain squalls we saw the lights from the ship below.... Visibility was still zero to one mile, and the ceiling varied from zero to 500 feet....

"The visibility improved enough for us to make a visual circle over the ship. The sea had primary swells of six feet from the west-southwest and secondary cross swells ..., [which] made the seas very choppy. Whitecaps were numerous and the wind was estimated to be at 14 knots from a direction almost 90 degrees from the primary swell....

"The seas and wind were continuing to increase. A successful landing was appearing more doubtful as each minute passed. I asked the doctor to radio to attempt to determine the patient's exact condition. The Navy corpsman informed our flight surgeon that the patient would die within hours unless he received proper medical attention.

"Came the moment of decision!... I explained to the crew the dangers we were facing, but also pointed out the fact that the seaman would die if we did not land. As I queried them one by one, they acted just as I thought they would. They were true rescue men. The decision was unanimous: They all agreed that they would trust my judgment if I decided to attempt the landing.

"In retrospect, I weighed the life of one man against that of an entire crew. But when one has been told that a person is going to die unless you help him, it is very difficult to say no.

"After thoroughly briefing the crew and passengers, we made two more circles above the ship and prepared to land....

"As we descended and neared the water, I extended full flaps and achieved a full stall. (This technique was directed in the manual at that time. As a result of this incident, Air Force Dash Ones were changed to require retracting the flaps immediately before touchdown when making full stall landings.) We contacted the water on a swell just as it was rising. I immediately placed the propellers into full reverse thrust (also as directed in the manual),but the aircraft was thrown back into the air. We were like a large motor boat trying to plow through very rough seas, 6 to 8 feet high, at about 80 knots, or approximately 93 mph.

"The aircraft began to settle but then was hit again by a second wave. This time the ocean caught the plane at an angle from the left and tossed it into the air again, then threw it into a slip from the right. This side slip was 20 to 30 degrees to the right of the aircraft heading. A third impact caught the plane with the right wing slightly down, causing the wing to dig into the water.

"After the third bounce, the SA-16 settled and righted itself. We were on the water and no one was injured.... On inspection, no leaks were found. We did discover that the right wing flap, buckled upward, could not be retracted by normal or emergency methods. The aircraft was not sinking, but we would be unable to fly.

"The severe landing and the rough seas created almost instant nausea for every person aboard. We were being tossed about so severely that it was almost impossible to stand. But we had to get the doctor and nurse transferred to the Whiteside. I contacted the ship by radio and asked them to send us a boat for the transfer...

"The boat had extreme difficulty covering the approximately 1,500 feet between the ship and our plane because the waves had now increased to between 8 and 10 feet. As the boat neared our craft, we realized how dangerous it was going to be to try to have it approach the plane....

"Our left rear hatch was opened and we attached the line of a five-man life raft to the aircraft. The raft was inflated, as we tossed it out the hatch. While two crew members held the line, Sergeant McKenna struggled aboard the raft. Then after several attempts, the doctor was also placed aboard the wildly bouncing rubber dinghy....

"Sergeant McKenna made this hazardous trip three times: the first to transfer the doctor, the second for the nurse, and one last time to carry the medical supplies.... After the transfers were completed, the raft broke loose and was lost....

"Since 9082 could no longer fly, I requested a tow", which was accomplished after considerable effort, with Colonel Tatum remaining aboard the plane "to monitor the radio until Lieutenant Crevonis and I could recover sufficiently to return to the aircraft and relieve him....

"From the landing until the transfers were all completed, almost three hours had elapsed, and we were operating as fast as possible under the circumstances....

"As soon as they partially recovered from their nausea, the doctor and nurse gave immediate attention to the desperately ill seaman....

"At dawn, the Whiteside was met by the USS Bolster, a repair and salvage ship. Since the seas were manageable at this point, Lieutenant Crevonis and I transferred to the aircraft and relieved Colonel Tatum. The doctor, nurse, ill seaman, and the rest of our crew were transferred to the Bolster. The Whiteside then steamed on toward the Philippines, its original destination.

"A falling barometer and rising wind gave warning of more trouble....

"Although the weather was now clear, as the morning grew, so did the wind....[It] was steady from the southwest, but continuously increasing and was now up to about 25 knots with a 10-foot sea. The right wing began to plunge deeper and more frequently....

"Since inspection revealed that the right drop tank had completely filled with water, this created an imbalance of 2,400 pounds on the right side of the airplane.... As the wind continued to increase, and the seas grew higher, I had no choice but to attempt dropping the water-filled tank. I waited until the right wing came out of the water, then I hit the release switch. It worked perfectly and the tank cleared the aircraft completely. The airplane began to ride more normally.

"As darkness fell, a storm formed and grew steadily worse. There was one solid wall of water after another. As the waves grew more mountainous, at one moment the aircraft would be tossed completely out of the water, only to be fully submerged the next. Each time we went under, it seemed as if we were in a violently tossing submarine, and although each dunking was only for a brief period of time, each submersion seemed like an eternity. To make matters worse, each time the aircraft submerged, the right wing dipped so low that many times throughout the storm, the wings became almost vertical. Each time this happened, the two of us utilized every ounce of our strength to try to right 9082 with the ailerons to prevent it from capsizing.... We felt so utterly helpless....

"As the storm reached its zenith and the mountainous waves swept by, there were many times between 1900 and 2200 hours that the plane came perilously close to capsizing, and each time we went under, we thought it would be our last.

"By dawn of 30 June, the sea was much calmer and the coast of Japan was in sight. Our spirits grew high as the tow speed increased from the two knots held during the storm, to five knots.

"Once inside Tokyo Bay, the captain stopped the Bolster so that Lieutenant Crevonis and I could transfer to the tow ship for some much-needed rest. 9082 was then towed the last few miles unattended and the tow ended at 1430 hours, almost 60 hours from the time we began the mission....

"The doctor, nurse and patient were all sent to the Navy hospital. My crew and I then flew another SA-16 back to home base. Within a few days, Air Force 9082 was back in full service as if nothing had happened. Lieutenant Crevonis and I took considerably longer to recuperate.

SPRINGTIME 1951 KOREA

COL William D. Gillis, USA (Ret.), of Dover, N.H., was a tank platoon leader in Korea with the 89th Thnk Battalion, 25th Infantry Division, in April 1951. He provides the bare facts in the following expose, "When Ya Gotta Go...":

Our platoon was the lead platoon of a task force in which the tanks were advancing up a wide valley and the infantry was moving along the hilltops on the flanks. In situations like this, it takes the infantry longer to advance than the tanks. On this occasion, the order came to stop and wait for the infantry to catch up. The platoon stopped and spread out, so as not to be easy targets for the enemy. Shortly after, intermittent enemy artillery and small fire were directed at the tanks.

After about 15 minutes, one of the soldiers in my tank told me over the intercom that he had to go to the bathroom. I asked him, "What do you have to do?" "Number I," he replied.

No one in his right mind would go outside to relieve himself at such a time, so I suggested that he use a small plastic bag that came with the C rations. A few minutes later, he said over the intercom that he tried the plastic bag, but it didn't hold liquid. The result was urine on the inside deck of the tank. An odor filled the tank, but not too bad.

Shortly thereafter, another one of the crewmen said on the intercom that he had to "number 1" It so happens that during this period of immobility, we were using our 76mm tank guns to fire at targets of opportunity. Consequently, there were some used brass casings in the tank. These casings, which originally contained the propellant for the ammunition, could easily hold a few quarts of liquid. So, I suggested to the soldier that he should "number 1" into a used shell casing. Well, he did so, and the whole tank now began to reek of urine.

What happened was this. When the gun is fired, the projectile goes out the front end of the gun, and the casing is ejected onto the floor of the tank. These casings are hot, for the propellant explodes when the gun is fired. As a result, the inside of the tank did smell to high heaven. Thank goodness we were on the move again shortly and with air now circulating within the tank, the smell became less, but the inside of the tank was given a thorough cleaning the first chance we had.

A second situation starts with a scenario similar to the first--moving up a valley, slowing down, and stopping to realign the front. We were in position for a few minutes and receiving no enemy fire when one of the tank commanders called me and said that he had to go to the bathroom, and would begetting out of his tank for a brief period.

"Okay," says I, thinking that immediately behind the tank would give him ample protection and privacy. But he didn't think that was private enough, so he ran about 50 yards to a spot where he could squat down in a fold in the ground and not be seen. Well, some of the "bad guys" must have been watching this situation unfold for, a few seconds after the soldier squatted, enemy artillery fire started coming in.

You never in your life have seen anyone run as fast as this trooper did--back to his tank with his trousers around his ankles, his bare bottom shining in the sun, and his buddies cheering him on. He made it safely, though embarrassed. Much to his chagrin, he provided some humor during a serious situation.

1950-1953

USNS GENERAL M.L. HERSEY

CAPT Richard L. Whynot, USCGR (Ret.), of San Antonio, Texas, was deck officer and then, by 1952, second officer/navigator, aboard the USNS General M.L. Hersey (T-AP 148), engaged in multiple trips to Inchon and Pusan, Korea, with U.S and U.N. troops. He describes their troop-lift efforts between 1950 and 1953 as follows:

June 25, 1950, found my ship, the USNS General M. L. Hersey, back in New York after a trip to Indonesia evacuating Dutch army troops and their families back to Holland.

The Hersey was in a New York shipyard to increase troop capacity to 3,000, although I can't recall that number ever being reached.

The hostilities in Korea had to cause consternation in the planning staffs of the newly formed USN command, Military Sea Transportation Service. In March 1950, it had just taken over the former U.S. Army Transport Service fleet and was adjusting to the use of civil service crews on naval transport ships.

Additionally, planning was under way for a major sealift that would be required to construct Thule Air Force Base in far north Greenland, starting in the summer of 1951. (In fact, more than 100 ships were needed for that effort, including four troop carriers as barracks ships for military staff and civilian construction workers.)

To add to the planning puzzle, there were contractual charter arrangements with the UN/IRO (International Refugee Organization) to transport displaced persons from Europe to the United States, Australia, South America and Canada.

Remember, in 1950 sealift was still the primary way to move large groups of troops from CONUS to overseas assignments. It's a tribute to all concerned that the various commitments were kept.

Troop ships of the Hersey class made most of the UN/IRO charter trips and the troop runs to Korea, while some of the larger ships concentrated on the New York/Bremerhaven run and European-based forces.

The trips to Korea, particularly with foreign-nation troops, presented new navigational and logistical problems. The routing often meant that the troop passengers were on the ship for as long as 30 days. This was also before the days of electronic and satellite navigation. We used the old-fashioned methods!

One trip took us from New York to Bremerhaven with U.S. replacement troops; then to Rotterdam to pick up Dutch troops; around to Piraeus for Greek troops; across to Izmir for Turkish troops; and then through the Suez Canal to Inchon by way of the Indian Ocean and South China Sea. After a shuttle trip to Sasebo and Pusan, we headed back the same way, with an additional stop at Djibouti to drop off an Ethiopian contingent, before the Izmir/Piraeus stops.

While most U.S. troops went to Korea via San Francisco, it was not unusual to use New York as an embarkation point.

After our summer 1952 sealift effort in Greenland was completed, we left New York with an AAA battalion, picked up 900-plus troops at San Juan, Puerto Rico, and then went to Cartagena, Colombia, for 390-plus army and navy personnel from that country.

After transiting the Panama Canal, we headed to Inchon via Honolulu and Yokohama. However, between those two ports, we went through the tail end of a typhoon, adding about four days to the voyage with 2,000 very sick troop passengers.

After debarking the AAA battalion in Inchon, there was once again a shuttle trip to Sasebo, thence to Yokohama and back to the United States by way of San Francisco with troops who had completed their time in Korea.

By 1954, the Air Transport Command was taking over some of the troop lift service. Once jets were in service, the pace quickened. After all, 12 hours on a jet plane is a lot easier than 30 days on a ship!

The General Hersey made a total of four trips to Korea and received two battle stars to add to the one battle star from WWII. She was placed out of service in 1954 and transferred from the Pacific Reserve Fleet to the National Defense Fleet in 1959.

1950-1953

MICHIGAN TO AUSTRIA

COL Phillip G. Hale, USAR (Ret.), of Williamsburg, Va., served in Hawaii, Guam and Saipan auring WWII. Returning home, he signed up for the Reserve and was assigned to the 200th MP Company affiliated with the Grand Rapids, Mich., police department. During the Korean War, he was a first lieutenant assigned to D Company, then later to B, 796th MP Battalion, in Vienna.

When the Korean War started, Colonel Hale was in college, working toward a master's in education. His teaching position was to begin in the fall of 1950.

"One day I returned home to find a note on our door, that my Reserve unit was being called up for active duty. The company was activated at Grand Rapids and then assigned to Camp Pickett, Va.' he recalls. "Soon I was transferred to Ft. Holibird, Md., as assistant provost marshal. After a couple of months there, I was sent to the Military Police School at Ft. Gordon, Ga., for 're-tread' school.

"The day our class graduated, almost all of the company grade officers were on orders for overseas duty, about half going to the Pacific and the other half going to Europe. I was to go to Europe.

"Then more orders came; about half of those going to Europe were cancelled and reassigned to the Pacific. But my orders were still to report to Salzburg, Austria. I learned that it was possible that I might be able to request that my wife be permitted to join me. So, prior to my departure for Austria, I was able to obtain for my wife, her passport, medical inoculations, footlockers for shipping desired possessions, etc., and even a weekend for us at the port where she would embark....

"However, nothing prepared her for her overseas trip, during the first week of December, as the ocean was not kind to travelers....

"When I went to the railroad station in Vienna, my wife was not in sight. I asked and was told to look in an upper bunk, inside one car, where I found her, still 'rocking and rolling' from her long sea voyage through December weather and more 'rocking and rolling' in an upper bunk during the long train trip from Bremerhaven, through the Russian Zone, with the train cars blacked out.

"Shortly after my wife arrived, the battalion exec called me in and said: 'Hale, there will be a troop ship in Bremerhaven on Thursday, and you will be on it. What do you want to do?' I said, 'Sir, I would like to request a threemonth extension He said, 'That is what I would do, if I were you.'...

"Later on, I was reassigned as second officer, in the Special Duty Company, and when the International Sector was U.S.-controlled, it was my duty to conduct a formal inspection of the International Patrol. Imagine my queasiness in being eyeball-to-eyeball with Russian soldiers. Later, we learned that the Russians were chosen because they understood (but could not speak) English.

"Finally, the Korean War was winding down, and my turn came to return to the U.S. My wife and I cleared the post by turning in all the government items. Exhausted by the ordeal, we flopped on our hotel bed, to relax until next day, when we would depart Vienna. The phone rang. The sergeant said, 'Lieutenant, there is a scheduled strike of the railroads, and I am sending you a jeep and driver, and you must leave now!'

"We hurriedly loaded into the jeep, picked up my official papers at the battalion HQ, and rushed to the train station. The train was already moving. I helped my wife on, threw on our travel bags, ran after the train and climbed aboard. It was the last train out of Vienna for us.

"Upon return to civilian life, I remained in the Army Reserve, finally gaining the rank of colonel and staying until my age retired me. But even then, I joined the 'Hip Pocket' Reserve, with orders to report if called in a national emergency."

JANUARY-JUNE 1951 INDIANA & GEORGIA

COL Tommy R. Gilliam, AUS (Ret.), of Lakeport, Calif., was a veteran of WWII: Iceland for 18 months; Utah Beach on D+33; the St. Lo breakthrough and the Third Army dash across France. When the Korean War began, he was in the Indiana National Guard as S-3 of the 293rd Infantry Regiment, 38th Division. His story follows:

As the Korean War began to settle into a war of attrition, the 38th Division, Indiana NG, held a high priority in readiness, and paid weekend training drills increased. A surge in equipment brought us new trucks, tanks, jeeps, weapons and equipment that we never expected to see. We began to recruit to full strength. All signs pointed to a possible early activation of the division.

Consequently, at the beginning of 1951, 26 officers from the regiment enrolled in the basic or advanced infantry courses at Ft. Benning, Ga. We had the regimental CO, the 3rd Battalion CO, the Regimental S-1, and myself in the advanced course....

More than half of my class was composed of company commanders and field-grade officers from the 31st "Dixie" Infantry Division, NGUS, which had been activated and was stationed at Ft. Jackson, as I remember. It had been beefed-up with over-strength, and night after night the company commanders in my barracks were on the phone to their first sergeants trying to provide guidance from hundreds of miles away, while still maintaining their class studies.

We were very aware of the junior infantry officers from WWII who had a Reserve obligation but were not in a unit, who were being involuntarily recalled to active duty, given one month refresher training, flown to Korea and the next day were leading a front-line platoon. They were not happy campers. We were also aware of the many foreign-born wives and other dependents of active army units, now serving in Korea, who were living in Camellia Apartments, a housing area that had 26,000 living there, all women and children.

The headquarters commandant at Ft. Benning had been a company commander in my battalion in WWII in Iceland. He and his wife had me over for dinner and, in the course of conversation, he told me that he had a major's slot open, which I could have if I came back on active duty.

After graduation exercises in June, I returned to Indiana by way of the Pentagon where I contacted a former battalion CO of my WWII regiment who was heading infantry career management. When I told him of the offer, his answer was, "Tom, just as sure as I said you could go there, the day your orders came in, I would have requisitions for 10 majors for FECOM and you would be on your way. Just hang tight. Your division is hot and the letters of activation are all ready to be mailed."

But it never happened. The Ohio Division and an Illinois Division were called. The unofficial explanation was that the Pentagon was worried about a possible Russian attack through Alaska and down through Canada to hit Detroit, and the Wisconsin, Michigan, one Illinois and the Indiana Divisions were all that were available to blunt such an attack if it came.

As the war dragged on, the equipment and supplies began to slacken and the extra training time was canceled. I was named CO of the 3rd Battalion and in talking to one of my lieutenants one day about my concern over individuals who were trying to get out of the division before it was called, his answer was, "You can't be a fireman and not go to the fire."

We were ready and fully expected to go to the fire--but we were never called. By the time I realized that we probably never would be, and again explored a return to active duty, I was told that the need for field grade officers had evaporated and the truce treaty was signed shortly afterwards.

But the homefront never seemed like it was supporting a war; we had guns and butter. There was no rationing of gasoline or food or tires or hard goods such as cars and appliances. Life went on as it had since the end of WWII. The lack of a full mobilization with all Reserve and Guard units called to duty lulled the American people into a sense of noninvolvement. No wonder it was called the "forgotten war."

KOREAN WAR CHRONOLOGY JUNE 1951

1 June

Operation Piledriver begins, with elements of the I and IX Corps advancing toward the Wyoming Line.

3 June

Eighth Army moves toward Iron Triangle in central Korea.

12 June

Eighth Army controls Iron Triangle.

10-16 June

Battle for the Punchbowl, vicinity of Hwachon Reservoir. The 1 st Marine Division encounters heavy North Korean resistance, but succeeds in taking its objective.

15 June

Terrain objective of Operation Piledriver attained.

23 June

Jacob Malik, Soviet Ambassador to the United Nations and Deputy Foreign Commissar of Soviet Union, proposes cease-fire.

25 June

Chinese radio voices desire for cease-fire.

30 June

General Ridgway, on orders from Washington, broadcasts to Chinese the U.N.'s readiness to discuss an armistice.

Sources: The Korean War by Matthew Ridgway; The Korean War by Max Hastings; Homepage, 50th Anniversary of the Korean War Committee -- www.korea50.army.mil/

COPYRIGHT 2001 Reserve Officers Association of the United States
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