Valleys of Death (9 page)

I kept my head down and kept climbing. There was nothing else to do. I didn't think about getting killed. I only worried about my men. I constantly urged them to keep climbing. We couldn't stop. And we didn't.

Soon, the firing stopped, the North Koreans withdrawing farther up the hill. The visibility was getting better as we kept moving up. Still we had not made contact with the main Korean positions.

All of a sudden we started receiving fire from the positions on the top of the hill. I could see men from the other platoons running from the machine gun and mortar fire. Many of them were being hit by shrapnel from the mortar fire. We were panicking.

“Stay down,” I yelled at my men as soldiers from the other platoons brushed by us heading down. If they tried to run, they would be cut down by the mortar fire.

Climbing behind a cluster of rocks, I managed to hold my men in place. But there was no one in front of us. Since they didn't have any targets, the North Koreans slacked off in their firing. I knew we couldn't take the hill alone. I kept the men in position, and shortly after, Lieutenant Peterson, the company executive officer, came up the hill.

“How many men do you have?” he asked.

“I've got two 57s and all my men.”

“Move up the hill a little more and hold the position until I get back,” he said.

I just looked at him. He looked me straight in the eye. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned around and went back down the hill. I realized that I'd never told him how many men I had. I was sitting there with only eight men counting myself.

I moved up the hill until we started receiving fire. I had my men spread across a finger of high ground. I stayed in the center. We set up behind rocks and holes dug from artillery rounds. We were lying there no more than thirty or forty yards from the North Koreans and nobody was behind us. Every once in a while we would receive sporadic small arms fire.

“Hey, Sarge, how long are we going to be here?” Walsh first.

“Sarge, we're getting out of here by dark, right?” Hall second.

I knew the other men wouldn't speak up, but I could look in their eyes and see they were scared. I just hoped they couldn't see the fear in my eyes.

“We're staying until we get orders,” I said, finally answering Walsh and Hall.

I spoke up loud enough for the whole section to hear. Farther down the hill, mortar and artillery fire was very heavy. We could see the North Korean positions and they could see us. I was hoping we were out of grenade range and too close to their position for them to put mortar fire on us. Soon, instead of mortars, the North Korean soldiers started sending down taunts. We didn't speak the language, but each word had a charge.

“Silence. No one talks back,” I whispered and put my finger to my lips. Not that we knew what they were saying.

As the minutes and then hours ticked off, I realized that slowly but surely we were moving back a foot at a time. A guy would reposition and then the rest of the section would go off of him. At this rate, we might be off the hill by the end of the war. I knew one thing, there was no way we were staying overnight.

I didn't know how long we were there, but finally I heard someone coming. It was Vaillancourt. He signaled me to withdraw. I told Walsh and Hall to fire one 57 round each on my order and for everyone to immediately start moving down the hill. Everyone got ready.

I raised my hand, dropped it and shouted, “Fire!”

They fired simultaneously, and immediately we started running down the hill. What seemed like only a few seconds later we started receiving small arms fire. I was hoping all the way that we wouldn't receive any mortar fire.

“Where's the executive officer?” I asked Vaillancourt when I caught up with him.

“He was killed along with one of the platoon leaders. The company had regrouped and tried to come back up the hill but was ripped apart by heavy mortar and artillery fire. We lost the two lieutenants and two platoons took heavy losses.”

“How did you know we were still up there?”

“Lieutenant Brown and the first platoon were moving into position to continue the attack when the battalion commander issued the order to withdraw. That's when Captain McAbee told me you were on the hill and for me to get you down.”

Back on the road, we started to take mortar fire from the hill. The road had deep culverts that ran from one side to the other. The ditches were big enough for a man to go through standing up. I quickly ushered my men down into one of them. We got three quarters of the way through the culvert and ran into two dead North Koreans and an American soldier. The Koreans were lying in a heap, and the soldier, a lieutenant, was holding his head and moaning in pain. When I got there, Vaillancourt had him by his collar and was dragging him to the other end of the culvert.

The lieutenant was Vaillancourt's friend from Pusan, the one that needed the large magazines. We drug him out of the culvert and got a medic to take care of him. I found out years later that he'd been withdrawing down the culvert when he stumbled into the North Koreans. Luckily, he'd been able to get two shots off, but they had too. One North Korean bullet struck him in the chest, but a near fatal shot was deflected by the magazine. He was lucky.

As we got farther down the road, men from the battalion sat along both sides of the road. None of the companies had succeeded in securing their objective. We were a sad-looking bunch as we moved to what looked like an orchard. We were told we were going to stay there awhile to rest and reorganize.

I pulled my now eight-man section off to one side of the orchard. We threw our packs to the ground and sprawled out dead tired. The men were in good spirits, and before the first bite of my C ration they were trading barbs.

Hall started in on his typical complaint.

“If I never dig another foxhole again that will be too soon,” he said between bites of pork and beans. “By now I could have tunneled to China.”

“We should write Sears and Roebuck for an automatic foxhole digger,” I said. “They have everything else.”

Everybody started to laugh.

“Great idea, Sarge,” Hall said.

“Tear a cover off a C ration box,” I said.

“What for, Sarge?”

“I'm going to write a letter to Sears on it.”

“You're shitting us,” Hall said.

“Nope. I'm not,” I said as I started writing and addressing it to Sears on Roosevelt Boulevard in Philadelphia.

“It will never get there,” Walsh said.

“If it gets back to the APO, they will send it,” I said, signing my name.

They all laughed.

While we were talking, McAbee came up with Colonel Johnson. He motioned for me to join them.

I put my letter aside and ran over to him.

“Sergeant Richardson and his men were the last ones off the hill,” McAbee told Colonel Johnson.

“How are your men doing?” the colonel asked, looking over my shoulder at the men finishing up the letter to Sears.

“Okay, but they're very tired.”

Johnson nodded and shook my hand. “Try and get some rest tonight.”

He started to walk away. Frustrated with the attack, I knew this was my chance to speak my mind and the mind of my men. I wanted to know how many more times we were going to have to climb up a hill only to leave it and fight our way up another. From my point of view, we were just getting our asses kicked.

“How are we doing? It seemed like we never make any headway.”

Johnson stopped.

“Sergeant Richardson, you tell your men they did a great job. Against great odds we have stopped the North Koreans' main attack.”

I turned away and slowly walked back toward the men. I thought to myself how great Walsh, Hall and Heaggley were. It was their courage and bravery that held us together. As I looked at them it almost brought tears to my eyes.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TIDE TURNS

Johnson's news had an immediate impact on my section.

We no longer dragged ass. Instead, we seemed hopeful. Optimistic even. Before dark our company was ordered to occupy the high ground north of the apple orchard. So much for a rest. We barely got to the high ground and it started to get dark. The position was a short distance from the south end of the ridge we'd failed to take—Hill 570. Obviously we were in a blocking position in case the North Koreans continued to attack south during the night.

For the next two days, we attacked to the east and took Hill 314. On the final day, K Company moved through us and started up the hill. My section was set up and laying down a base of fire. The hill was totally barren, and from my foxhole the attack looked like a demonstration. Like a sand table with an instructor moving toy soldiers toward the objective. There was no movement on the hill. Friendly mortar and artillery fire had lifted. It looked like this was going to be an easy one. K Company had made it almost to the North Korean forward positions when mortar and artillery fire thundered down on them.

“Look on top of the hill,” I shouted to Walsh and Hall. “Fire! Fire, on top of the hill.”

We could see the North Koreans pouring over the hill. They looked like red ants swarming toward K Company, who were pinned down. Pressing my binoculars to my eyes, I watched the North Koreans pull machine guns into their fighting holes. Soon, their gunners were delivering withering fire on K Company, who was falling back. What moments ago had been a clean, orderly demonstration had erupted into total chaos. The entire forward crest of the hill was a killing zone and K Company was being decimated.

September 12, 1950. 3rd Battalion advances to road junction.
National Archives

The North Korean artillery fire followed K Company down the hill. The ground shook like an earthquake as the rounds walked toward us. I hugged the bottom and side of the hole. All I could think about was a round landing right on top of me. If it happened, I'd never know. I pulled my helmet and gritted my teeth. I was starting to lose it.

The smoke from the gunpowder was so thick it was beginning to choke me. When is it going to stop? Were they going to follow this up with an attack? Christ, I hoped not. God only knew what the hell we would have left after this. The fire finally lifted and then stopped. I popped my head up and saw men running by our position screaming for us to leave.

I saw Walsh nearby. “Check your men.”

I climbed out and went to see how Hall had made out.

“What kind of shape are you in?”

He looked shell-shocked. His face was streaked with dirt and mud. Everybody seemed on edge, but under control.

“We are okay. Only one slightly wounded but he'll be all right.”

“Okay. Keep your head down. Tell Heaggley to be ready. The goddamn gooks may try to retake this hill.”

“Are we going to stay?”

“Goddamn it, just stay in these holes until I tell you differently.”

I raced back to my hole. On the way, a young lieutenant ran by me; he was so scared his voice cracked when he screamed at me.

“Get out of here. Fall back.”

“Who the hell are you?” I barked.

There were men still trying to get back, and if we left they wouldn't have a chance in hell.

He didn't stop and I never got his name. He just yelled to fall back.

“You're full of shit,” I yelled at him. “We can't leave here. We have to help these men.”

Several other members of K Company passed me, following the lieutenant. I saw some of my men getting out of their holes.

“You sons of bitches get back in your goddamn holes,” I yelled. “Get back.”

They scrambled back. Rounds started to crash around us again. I could hear the K Company men scream as shrapnel showered them, slicing into their skin. Larger pieces punched holes in their chests or sheered off limbs. Their screams filled in the silence between the crashes of artillery shells. I was not going to be able to control this fucking situation much longer.

Walsh just stared at me with a vacant look. Don't lose it now, I thought. Another barrage landed nearby. I put my head down. My ears started ringing. Smoke was down on the bottom of the hole again. The artillery fire finally stopped. The screaming for the medics began.

“Go check your men,” I told Walsh, shaking him out of his stupor.

I headed over to Hall's position. He had the same vacant look as Walsh. Men from K Company were moving down the ridge carrying the wounded. Everybody was bleeding or bandaged. I kept my men focused on the hill, waiting for the North Koreans to counterattack. But they never came. Neither did the artillery. It wasn't long and I was told to withdraw off the hill. As I passed the command group, I stepped aside while the section kept moving. I was pissed and let McAbee know about the lieutenant.