Dill found his ultimate assignment in the Korean theater partly by chance and some persuasion. By mid-summer 1950, half of the battalions at Fort Sill were slated for duty in the Far East, but Dill’s unit was not among them. He contacted the commander of the 8-inch howitzer battalion, but found he was already over strength on officers and could not take him on. By the end of August the School began to divide personnel into two rosters for individual replacements – one roster would stay and the other would ship out.
Before headquarters could choose, Fort Sill received word that they should assemble a complete operations and survey platoon after some battalion in Korea had lost its entire platoon. Of the compliment of three officers, the last slot of survey officer was for a lieutenant and James eagerly presented himself to the battalion commander who was dubious of a second lieutenant filling what should be a first lieutenant’s role.
Holding the rank for many months, though, Dill knew he was a very senior second lieutenant. The commander called for his adjutant who Dill knew would do him no favors, and he hoped the adjutant’s vindictive attitude might actually be of benefit to get overseas. The man in charge agreed and struck orders to send Dill as survey officer. The battalion commander, still not convinced, nonetheless shook James’ hand, wished him luck and expressed his pride over one of his men volunteering for combat. He either saw potential in the enthusiastic lieutenant or his adjutant had been persuasive about dispatching him to the Far East.
The adjutant did do one favor for Dill – he cut two days leave before his departure overseas, giving him enough time to drive home to Prescott, Arkansas. It was a difficult time to leave his family. His father had not recovered completely from the stroke that retired him from the army the year before and his mother was in the hospital recovering from an operation. He returned for Fort Sill carrying his father’s old B4 bag, carried in Europe and the Pacific, crossing out “L C Dill O7636” and stenciling “J H Dill O961062” beneath it.
Dill was twenty-three, spirited, and proud to be in the artillery branch. His soft features and youthfulness were superficial, deceiving maturity forged by an education and upbringing by a man of the old Army. His father, Colonel L. C. Dill imbued much of the classic military lifestyle in his son, so he was often calm and unwavering in his assertion and discipline. James attended West Point briefly, but the academy was not for him and he dropped out to instead finishing at the top of his class at the artillery school.
On his return to Fort Sill after his leave, he found he had been promoted to first lieutenant. He thanked the battalion commander and showered the spiteful adjutant with appreciation, taking special pleasure in showing gratitude when he learned the petty man tried to block the promotion and failed. This adjutant, though he was a few years senior to Dill, was in his class at the school, but had finished near the bottom and held a grudge against James since.
He departed to find the platoon he was assigned to and found the operations officer, Captain Klaniecki. The man was quite opposite in character from Dill. In appearance, he was tall and slender with a dark brow and ears that stuck out under his cap. In experience, he was a combat veteran of the European theater, having served with the 8th Armored Division from France, through Belgium and to the Rhine. Dill shifted his bag to his left hand and introduced himself.
*
On the first of September, they boarded a commercial airliner for the west coast. The other soldiers had family present, mostly wives, including the old operations sergeant who had joined the service probably before James was born. “My husband has told me so much about you, Captain,” the sergeant’s wife said to Klaniecki. She was graceful, proper, and had seen many men off to war. “I’m happy he will be serving under such a fine officer.” The others, many their first time leaving their families, embraced each other with great emotion and made their way on board. Having no family to see him off, Dill shook hands with the transportation officer had arranged their movement.
The flight was mostly civilian passengers who were curious about their destination. “Are you going to Korea?” They inquired only to respond with a quiet “Oh!” when the artillery men confirmed. This seemed to be the extent of the conversations until Klaniecki was handed a copy of Life magazine with a story about an artillery battalion that had been overrun that summer. They passed it around and speculated whether or not this was whom they were flying over to replace.
*
Far East Command was short on everything including weapons, so issuances began in the United States before soldiers left. James requested to draw a .45, the typical weapon for an artillery officer, but someone mandated new organization where pistols were only issued to majors and above; sergeants to captains received carbines; corporals and privates, rifles. There was objection from a few men, particularly infantry sergeants who desired M1 rifles, but supply did not budge, only offering the ad hoc solution to ‘swap around when you get to Korea!’
There were other instances of confusion and frustration, enough so that one of the depot staff snapped at an insensitive comment and threw a fit of absolute rage. Captain Klaniecki summoned all of his patience to work the soldier down to a calmer level, and he apologized.
“We’ve been pushed so damn hard,” the soldier lamented. “This place just wasn’t set up to handle the swarm of people we’re getting.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I handled a widow’s flight today – that left me on edge.”
“A widow’s flight?” Klaniecki’s furrowed his brow.
“Just that – families of men who’ve been killed. The Army is sending them home from Japan,” he explained. “It’s awful – there are so many of them. One little girl kept asking why her daddy didn’t meet her at the airport like he did when they first went to Japan.”
The men passing through the depot were quiet after that and kept any thoughts about inefficiency to themselves as they boarded their next flight on September 3d. The flight was all military personnel destined for Hawaii.
Hawaii had been L. C. Dill’s last duty station before his retirement. The clock was near two in the morning as James sipped coffee in the airport lounge and flipped through the phonebook. He located the name of a middle-aged colonel whom he remembered as a friend of his father’s. He dialed, worried about the colonel’s reaction, but was relieved when the voice on the other end fought off sleep and cordially offered to drive over to see him off to Korea. Dill was sorry to say they would be gone before that and they chatted briefly before closing. “Your father was a fine officer,” the colonel reminisced. “I’m sure his son will not fail in duty either!” James was first pleased to hear this and then a bit intimidated as he thought of his place in the ancestry of other Dills who had fought in America’s wars dating back to the Revolution.
From Hawaii to Wake Island to Tokyo, they finally reached a forgettable replacement depot in after dark on September 5th. After a few hours of restless sleep, they began processing the platoon the next morning, which nobody seemed to know how to properly handle. Instead, the party was treated as individual replacements. Klaniecki was infuriated, displaying the explicit orders he carried and argued unsuccessfully with the lieutenant who was processing personnel. He gave up and simply ordered him to hold the artillery platoon in one area while he stormed off with James behind him to find someone more competent. More than once, Dill feared that the Captain, who was a rugged six feet tall, was going to knock out an adjutant general type before making his way before the colonel in command.
“We could have used these teams a few days ago,” the colonel explained. He was very sympathetic, but even this was beyond his power. “It’s too late…there have been too many casualties and the unit you were slated to join is probably no longer in existence.” He held his palms open over a desk littered with paperwork. It must have been a nightmare processing everything there just as it was in Camp Stoneham.
“One whole regiment of the 24th Division exists only on paper now,” the colonel continued, gesturing at the typed pages in front of him. “Everyone is being used to keep the remaining battalions fighting. Branch and MOS are being ignored – service units are fighting on line as infantry. I know in one of the regiments they have the division band as a rifle platoon! I believe you two will stay with the artillery, but I can’t even guarantee that.”
With nothing more to say, they thanked the colonel, saluted, about faced, and marched out to inform the rest of the platoon that they were breaking up before attending an officer’s briefing. The information was a reiteration of what Dill and Klaniecki just learned from the colonel, that replacements were simply going where the line units needed bodies.
“Is there a chance of special assignment by MOS?” One officer inquired about his fate. “Mine is very uncommon, not many are qualified in the field.”
“And what is your MOS?” requested the briefing officer.
“Hotel manager.”
The entire room howled with laughter and the poor gentleman had no idea why. James knew the Army had a multitude of obscure occupations, but this was the first he had heard of hotel manager. He gathered that this man must have forgotten the object of an army, to wage war, and now was facing the consequences of accepting a commission into the machine. The room quieted and the briefing officer spoke again.
“We don’t have much demand for hotel managers right now; can we offer you a spot in a rifle company until one turns up?” He tried to add hope as the hotel manager paled and took his seat nervously.
An hour later, James had been through processing and was on a bus headed for his assignment with the 7th Division. Ed Klaniecki sat beside him – James having been by his side the entire time, insisting to those striking orders that the two remain together. He was afraid to go through it alone, especially after the misfortune of abolishing the platoon that he had gotten comfortable with in the past few days. He was comforted to notice that the Captain was trying just as much to keep the young lieutenant by his side, too.
*
On the afternoon of the sixth, James arrived at the 7th Division and was promptly greeted by an aide de camp wearing a steel helmet, pistol, and green fatigues – a uniform that James had worn only once during his two years in the service. To see this lieutenant in a combat uniform was surprising – James’ eyes bulged when the spectacled general entered wearing the same field uniform. He never imagined this sight and felt they must be very close to moving into combat. The general confirmed his assumption when he spoke.
“I’m Brigadier General Kiefer, commanding 7th Division Artillery. I welcome you to the Division,” he paused briefly. “I realize this is somewhat unusual, but most of the Division has already sailed and I’m in command of the elements still here. We will all sail tomorrow, and you will be assigned to units on the last shipload. I will assign officers in a moment – for the enlisted men, I will assume you know which duties you are best qualified to perform.”
“On board will be Div Arty Headquarters, 31st Field Artillery, 15th Anti-Aircraft Artillery, the Division Medical Battalion, Ordnance Company, and Quartermaster Company. If you belong to one of these branches, well and good,” he continued. “If not, be the judge of your own capabilities and pick the one you think best. There are officers here from each organization and you may talk it over with them. Dismiss!”
James heard one voice in the crowd joking: “I never thought I’d see the day when a general would say to me: ‘Sergeant, I’ve got several fine outfits, be my guest and take your pick!’” There were several soldiers left scurrying between groups trying to market their skills, but overall, the system seemed to work and was the best method under the rushed circumstances. Along with four other lieutenants and Captain Klaniecki in front, who was already speaking with General Kiefer, Dill lined up at the end of the line still carrying his carbine and B4 bag. Having been a first lieutenant only briefly, he assumed he was the most junior officer and took the appropriate spot on the end of the line.
“Yes, Captain, I know about the attempted group assignment, but there are just not enough replacements available to do that. You’ll see shortly about a third of the Division is made up of Korean conscripts! I will assign you to the 31st Field – they need an experienced FDC officer.”
Before Dill could make any noise to request to stay with Klaniecki, General Kiefer stepped toward to lieutenants and gestured to each one with a finger. “You go to the 48th Field; You to the 49th; you to the 57th. Those are direct support battalions and you’ll be attached to Div Arty until you can join those commands.” He pivoted slightly to face Dill, who nervously waited for his fate. “The lieutenant on the end goes to the 31st Field – that’s the mediums.”
He was relieved that fate determined he would stay with Klaniecki. Kiefer had only followed sequence in naming the artillery battalions – the three light 105mm in numerical order followed by the medium 155mm battalion. For the rest of his life, Dill thought about how this casual assignment procedure influenced his career and life.
*
The 31st Field assembled in a gymnasium under the command of Patrick Welch, a lieutenant colonel of forty-nine whose ripe age and war service made James feel comfortable. In a time where there were many young field grade officers, Dill was still accustomed to the Army of his father who made major after a long seventeen years, a period of time that was considered quick in that day. As an older colonel, Dill thought Welch had already made all the mistakes he was going to make, had seen all sorts of unusual situations, and would keep his men alive. James also knew, though the physical demands for a man of his age was difficult, that Welch commanded the battalion because he desired to. With his rank and seniority, he could likely have any occupation he wished, but he had chosen the life of living in the dirt and getting shot at from time to time.
The Colonel welcomed Dill and Klaniecki to review their qualifications. He seemed to be impressed with their abilities and subsequently assigned both men as assistant operations officers despite already have two where the TO&E called for one. It was a temporary solution to the flood of officers directed into the 7th Division as a method of getting them to Korea faster. Once in theater, they would be transferred as needed.
The congregation of soldiers beginning to form the 31st Field created a disorganized mob where there was little comradery. The whole battalion was simply cobbled together with the pieces remaining from a division stripped of its best to fulfill the desperate units committed earlier that summer. To add to the disruption, every man in three was a Korean taken from the streets to bolster the numbers of the 7th Division. Where some men had served since the artillery was horse drawn and the soldiers so proficient, they performed their duties with autonomy, the poor Koreans were absolutely helpless without proper training, struggled with the language barrier, and were swimming in even the smallest American uniforms.
Dill found a corner to unpack his bag and change out of his khakis and service shoes into fatigues and combat boots. Up until this point, he had still been wearing his numbered collar brass from Fort Sill. Remorsefully, he tucked the 18th Field insignia away, a unit he had been so proud to serve in, and exchanged the pin for a blank set of crossed cannons that he applied to the collar of his fatigue shirt.
*
After an all-night journey via rail, interrupted a few times by short breaks where groups of motherly Japanese women distributed coffee and doughnuts, the Lieutenant arrived at the docks and prepared to embark. He drew equipment – a pistol belt, ammunition pouch, canteen, first aid pouch, mess kit, helmet, sleeping bag, pack and suspenders. James Dill possessed great intuition – among the items he had carried with him from Fort Sill was a spare set of fatigues and, most valuable above all else, an air mattress. Along with these he packed his socks and underwear, shaving supplies, wool shirt and trousers, and a raincoat since there were no ponchos available. His Ike jacket, khakis and shoes went into the B4 bag. He approached a Transportation Corps captain and asked where he could store it.
“That’s just what I’m here for, Lieutenant,” he seemed proud of his responsibility and handed James a tag in exchange for the bag. He looked puzzled as he examined it. “L. C. Dill…O7636, is that a serial number?”
“Yes, sir – it was my father’s bag.”
“I didn’t know there were any serial numbers that short!” He was rather incredulous and deposited the bag in a corner as Dill proceeded out on the dock to rejoin his battalion. He left wondering if the bag would still be there when he returned.
“Exigencies of the service having heretofore precluded the issuance of written orders, verbal orders of the Command Officer appointing First Lieutenant James H. Dill, Artillery, O961062 as Assistant S-3 of the 31st Field Artillery Battalion effective 7 September 1950 are hereby confirmed and made a matter of record.” The warrant officer from personnel noted this in Dill’s 201 file after he handed it over to him and it became a matter of official record. It was not until several days later that his assignment made it on paper that he was officially a member of HQ Battery, 31st Field and no longer a casual officer. He ascended the gangplank and boarded the troopship bound for the Korean campaign.
Upon discovering his cabin, Dill selected a top bunk, once again assuming himself to be most junior. He turned to leave and explore more of the ship, but bumped into two lieutenants.
“We’ve been assigned to this cabin, sir!” How they addressed him startled Dill, as they were certainly commissioned and only enlisted men had ever referred to him as ‘sir.’
“Very good, gentlemen,” James realized they were second lieutenants and felt the power of seniority surge through him. “Select your bunks. I’m sure we will become better acquainted before this voyage is over.”
“Yes, Sir!”
He pulled his pack from the top bunk and tossed it on the lower bed before exiting for the deck to observe the embarkation. The event turned out to be rather mediocre except for the effort the Navy put into ceremonial services. The captain of the ship welcomed General Kiefer aboard and a boatswain’s mate piped him aboard as tradition mandated. James was particularly interested in the ‘shifting of colors,’ where each time the vessel raised or dropped anchor, a set of flags appeared or disappeared at the flagstaff, jackstaff, and gaff. It was an exercise sailors took pride in and according to the Bluejacket’s Manual, “A ship that does not shift colors smartly will soon have a reputation it does not want.” This went on throughout the next couple of days as the troopship anchored and re-anchored several times in Tokyo Bay before sailing by the tenth.
While exploring the ship, Dill found that each headquarters had reserved round tables with eight chairs circling them – two for the Sergeant Major, his clerk, and one at all times for Colonel Welch. On the first day out of the harbor, Dill was invited to join the mightiest minds at the table to discuss organization with the S-3 section. He was the only lieutenant at the table.
Major Hensley had wisely taken a selection of equipment for a fire direction center on board, a pleasant surprise to the officers in the small conference. All of the guns and vehicles were transported in a separate freighter along with any equipment that was not personal gear. It was up to the S-3 section to train the other FDC personnel – it was just a matter of rounding them all up, which posed to be a challenge since even the first sergeants did not yet have complete rosters or anything on record to indicate individuals’ skills. Baffled by this challenge, the officers glanced nervously at each other before silently casting their gazes towards Dill.
“Well, that does pose a problem.” Hensley cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Dill will be in charge of rounding up all of the Battalion’s FDC personnel for the instruction.” He looked directly at Dill. “You’d best get on that now, Lieutenant. The rest of us will layout the schedule of classes.”
“Yes, sir!” James said instinctively, though he was at loss how to begin the task, envisioning himself tirelessly searching between decks asking each soldier if he was assigned to the 31st Field and if he had training in FDC. As he was making his way out of the lounge, he found a solution and went straight to the Bridge.
“Can you make an announcement over the ship’s loudspeaker for me?” He asked the Officer of the Deck earnestly. “Please ask all members of the 31st Field Artillery who have training in fire direction to report at once to the main lounge for the purpose of organizing the Battalion and Battery FDCs.”
Within fifteen minutes, the lounge was swarming with about thirty men. James was rather pleased with himself and even more so when Major Hensley commented with surprise in his voice.
“Ingenious, Lieutenant! I never would have thought of doing it that way.”
Dill began working on the FDC training and was happy to find he was working with experienced artillerymen. In the back of his mind, he was mildly concerned that he not earn too good of a reputation in getting things done, for once a young officer acquires such a reputation, he soon finds himself a great many more responsibilities. He kept himself focused on the training where he felt comfortable amid the skills that made up gunnery: charts, tables, slide rules, and mathematical formulas, all of which could be mesmerizing for non-artillery types.
Colonel Welch had brought in another lieutenant colonel whose name or branch Dill never heard, but he certainly was not in the artillery. He hovered over a sergeant focused intently on his work. He observed for some time before speaking.
“Sergeant, just what are you doing now?”
“I’m figuring how far the earth rotates while the shell is in the air, sir,” he said with his nose still in calculations.
The colonel’s face flushed bright red, his eyes widened, and he began ripping into the poor sergeant for giving what he considered a sarcastic response to his honest curiosity. Colonel Welch stepped between the two to intervene and managed to calm the visiting colonel.
“Fire was placed on the target by methods known only to God and the artillery,” he explained with his favorite quote from Patton, “and not fully understood by God!”
SEOUL
It was not until 12 September that the destination for the 31st Field was revealed. Some had speculated that the Inchon area was their target, but a great volume of rumors claimed the destination anywhere over east and west coasts. Dill attended the briefing for the invasion, sniffling through a cold and keeping his food down despite rough seas due to Typhoon Kezia. Those who were not seasick were detailed to mop up the mess of others and carry pails of vomit to the head, where most often they wretched on the way from the smell and thought of what they were transporting. By the time the briefing occurred, James felt he was ready to storm the beach single handedly if it meant he could stand on solid ground and at least by morning he had nothing left to throw up.
After several days of moving around Inchon harbor, the 31st Field finally went ashore on September 21st. Dill was tired of the cramped ship quarters and eagerly climbed down the net to a waiting LST. A few days prior the battalion outfitted with ammunition which was strictly rationed in the post war years, but now available in large quantities, so Dill filled the magazines for his carbine and stuffed a few extra boxes into his pockets. The LST brought them into Blue beach, slightly south of Inchon.
The Battalion FDC was allotted two ¾ ton trucks and one 2 ½ ton. Standard organization placed Dill as an assistant S-3 in the front seat of one of the ¾ tons, but the surplus of four assistant S-3s created a problem. The officers compared their dates of rank to determine seniority and shifted the captains around the available front seats, leaving Dill in the undesirable backseat of a truck. He was actually eager to take it out of interest of getting an unobstructed view of the country. That evening, he noted his initial impressions in his journal. From a distance, the scenery was picturesque, but a more intimate revealed otherwise. The smell was predominant due to the Koreans’ use of ‘night soil’ for fertilizer. The people lived in near squalor and worked constantly through the day. They all dressed alike, in white, and by noon each day were covered in dirt.
Ahead of the battalion, the 32d Infantry Regiment was rapidly moving south to Suwon. They were so quick that they did not have time to clear all pockets of North Koreans in the area and several stragglers nearly killed Colonel Welch when he was reconnoitering through a hamlet. At dawn on September 23d, the artillerymen continued the chase toward the Han River to support the 32d Infantry or the 1st Marines. It was a cool morning, but Dill was comfortable with a wool shirt under his fatigue jacket. Across the thirty-mile march, Koreans greeted the Americans with cheers and waves. The ROK troops excitedly shouted back to their kin who became even more enthused. When they reached their new positions east of Yongdung-po, the FDC set up in a small group of brick buildings, a rare structure in the land of straw and mud huts and schoolhouses. By early afternoon, the battalion was firing missions and by the evening, Dill had a new assignment as liaison officer with the Marines.
There were a limited number of jeeps and radios in the battalion, but Major Hensley reluctantly relinquished one to Dill, leaving only one set to operate at the FDC with the idea to commandeer the Colonel’s as a last resort. The only vehicle available was a ¾ ton, which was larger than what a liaison officer typically used, but it had the advantage of a radio much more powerful than those in the jeeps. The driver, Private First Class Classon, was also a computer in the FDC and would be a valuable assistant given his experience in gunnery. After conferring with the radio sergeant, Dill also took on Corporal Krieter who was as skilled with a radio as a signal repairman. The enlisted men would prove that Dill could not have found a better pair in country. He was also delighted to occupy a slightly padded front seat.
Finding a pair of binoculars and an M2 compass caused a bit more trouble, but he was outfitted soon enough and began gathering information on the battery locations, plotting sectors of fire on his map, and asked for a call sign. The code name was currently ‘Industry’ and since Dill was in a temporary position, not a permanent on like S-1, -2, or the executive or commanding officer (5 and 6), the communications officer suggested ‘Industry 100.’
Instead of sleeping well as he hoped, Dill spent the night chasing the ammunition train around what seemed to be all of Korea. He had just slipped off when he was shaken awake by who he thought was Major Chase. “Lieutenant, I hate to do this to you, but we can’t spare a single vehicle except the one you’re taking with you.” There was still no sign of the ammunition train that had been scheduled to arrive on the 23rd. “Your job is to find that damn ammo train and get it here before you join the Marines. Even if it delays you joining them, find the train first! We’ll be out of ammunition by the middle of the morning if it doesn’t show up and Div Arty is jumping all over Colonel Welch.”
“Be careful, Dill,” one of the artillerymen warned as he roused Classon and Krieter. “There are Reds infiltrating all over the place at night and we’ve got enough trigger-happy GIs around, you could get shot by either side.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Dill replied with some sarcasm. “But if I don’t find that ammo train by morning, the GI that shoots me will be Colonel Welch.”
The only way to get to the ammo dump in Ascom City was through Yongdungpo where periodic gunfire indicated that the Marines were still working on clearing the dark streets. As they approached a traffic circle at the center of town, they drove directly into the middle of a firefight. Though the ¾ ton was rated for a top speed of only 35 miles per hour, Dill swore Classon got it up to 85 around the circle. They reached Service Battery and discovered the ammunition train had never left their encampment. The commander gave no excuse that satisfied Dill, but the train at least started their way to the main body of the battalion before daybreak and Dill set out to find the 1st Marines. Along the way, they spotted a Marine field galley providing hot breakfast, Dill’s first break from C-rations since leaving the ship. It was an enjoyable meal and they savored it.
*
The railway and vehicle bridges spanning the Han to Seoul were demolished in the first days of the war, but the Marines set up a crossing down river on a large sand flat on the north edge of Yongdungpo. It was near noon when they reached the banks and Classon carefully eased the ¾ ton down the slope onto the sand bank.
“There’ll be some Amtracs back to pick up this stuff,” a Marine sergeant gestured at what remained of the regimental equipment. “You can go over with them, but, Lieutenant, there’s no way they can take that truck of yours. The boats are made to carry men; it’s just barely possible to squeeze a jeep on one and we haven’t got anything big enough for a ¾ ton.”
“Sergeant, there must be a way to cross.” Dill panicked. Without his truck he would have no radio and going over by himself was useless without communication. “The 5th Marines have been across for several days, how are they getting their stuff across?”
“Oh, they’ve got a regular ferry somewhere downriver near Kimpo Field. The tank company that’s supposed to be with us went there to cross.”
It was just another inconvenience getting into Seoul. Kimpo was a long ten miles away and navigating across the city to join the 1st Marines was another challenge, but joining the tank company crossing seemed like the only way to get there. Classon drove them back up the slope to Yongdungpo where they found another small firefight going on at the traffic circle. They pulled over and let the fight ensue until a tank crushed some shacks which seemed to be the source of the enemy fire as it immediately quieted. They set off down river, passing by the remains of a shack and Dill recognized the grotesque flattened corpses that had been victim to tank tracks.
When they reached the ferry in the late afternoon, Dill left his truck at the end of the long line of vehicles and approached a harried Major attempting to establish priorities.
“No, Lieutenant, damn it! The entire Marine Corps is trying to use this ferry, and now the Army wants it too?” Before Dill could interject, the major answered his thoughts. “Everyone you see here says the war will be lost if he doesn’t get on the next crossing.”
“I’m just trying to get to the 1st Marines. The 31st Field is the only medium artillery battery that can support them and I suspect they’ll need it badly if the Reds counterattack…but I understand,” he approached an empty fuel can nearby. “I’ll just sit here until I can get over.”
Exercising his clever persuasion against higher authority seemed to becoming a common theme in Korea. He unslung his carbine, let it rest across his thighs and fixed his gaze on the major. From his seat on the fuel can, Dill realized a tent behind the major was being used a temporary morgue for bodies brought back from across the river. He changed his seat to avoid this view, but maintained eye contact with the major for about ten minutes before he approached the Lieutenant.
“Look, it won’t do you any good to get over. The 5th Marines are stuck on the edge of Seoul. There’s no way you can get that truck through to the 1st, so as far I know we haven’t even made contact yet.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll just wait here until I can get over.”
After a stepping away for a moment, the major returned. “You’ve got 155s on call?”
“Yes, sir, the only ones in range.” The beginnings of a deal. “I understand your 105s will not really be able to give proper support. My battalion is up river from Seoul, right on the bank. The way the Han bends, we can cover the entire city and even further north. We can even hit roads leading into the city from the northeast.”
Satisfied with enough to ponder, the major stepped the edge of the bank and watched the ferry making a return trip. He walked back after another moment of thought. “All right, young man. Bring your truck up here. You can go over on the next trip. You might get through somehow. I wish you luck – you’re going to need it.”
Dill leapt up, saluted, and ran back to his truck before the major could change his mind. Across the Han, Dill joined a tank company before sundown headed for the 1st Marines. With them was a liaison from the 5th Marines also trying to reach the 1st Marines command post. Between mined roads, difficult terrain, and swarming enemy, reaching their destination was difficult. They contemplated moving through the network of dikes, but many were too narrow. The rice paddies were too soft – impassible by tanks and vehicles and would swallow a man up to his knees.
Kreiter and Classon were stoic and Dill subdued his own hesitation behind a swig from his canteen. Never much of a drinker, he would have gladly taken a jigger of bourbon even if it cost him all his back pay. The decision came down to using the dikes. The Marine captain and his sergeant agreed. They set off in low gear across the thin earthworks. About halfway to their destination, despite Classon’s delicate handling of the truck, the dike gave way and crumbled beneath the truck as it slid into the paddy. The crew climbed out to evaluate their new situation, determining that all they could do was dig themselves out and make a ramp back to the crest of the dike. They attempted to finish well before dark between the five of them, entrenching tools, and the trucks compliment of pioneer tools. As Classon had done the most stressful work without ceasing, Dill gave him a break from labor and set him to look out. On climbing the dike, he immediately yelled. “Oh my God! We’ve had it!”
Less than a mile away, what looked like a hundred North Koreans were running off a spur straight for the truck. Only the Marine sergeant had an M1 rifle – the others had carbines. They leaned against the dike and chambered rounds. Dill had not even had a chance to zero his carbine yet. “Let the sergeant pick off as many as he can when they reach 300 yards. Hold the carbines until the last 100 yards,” the Marine captain instructed. Dill rested his carbine and peered through his binoculars when the troops were still about half a mile away. He saw neither uniforms nor weapons, the first not such an abnormality as the Communists frequently went without uniforms, but their lack of weapons was puzzling. The captain explained they may have all had Russian burp guns which were small and easy to conceal. He looked his glasses again and noticed the man leading had the armband of an ROK policeman.
“Don’t shoot! I can see the ROK armband.”
“They’ve tried that trick before, Lieutenant. We’d better open fire.”
“No, Captain,” Dill countered. “If they’re Reds we can’t hold off that many anyway. I think we should chance it.”
Surprisingly the Marine officer agreed and their risk paid off with fortune. The party of men were simply locals and swarmed around the truck, lifting it up on the dike for the Americans who thanked them with an unending chorus of ‘Mansai.’ It was the only Korean they knew since the ROKs yelled it all the time. They were off again along the dikes and reached the edge of Seoul without incident.
Among the houses and streets, people leaned out of their homes to wave and greet the Americans with cheers of ‘Mansai,’ which they heartily replied with the same phrase. They finally reached a Marine outpost and Dill asked the lieutenant in command where the regimental command post was.
“Where in the hell did you come from?”
“Look, Lieutenant,” clipped Dill, “We’ve come through from the 5th and we want to find your regimental CP. Just point out the way.”
“You can’t have!” He replied after realizing his mouth was hanging open. “We’ve been trying to get a patrol through to the 5th all afternoon. Don’t you know everyone we’ve sent down this street has gotten shot up? You’ve just driven that truck out of an area swarming with Gooks!”
The Marine captain stepped forward. “The only Gooks we saw were some villagers who got us out of the mud.” Until then, he had let Dill run the show seeing as it was his truck and men. “Now stop arguing and show us the way to Colonel Puller’s CP.”
“Yes, sir, sorry, sir!” He had not seen the captain in the shadows of the truck. “I just can’t understand how you got through! I’ll loan you a guide.”
*
At the regimental command post, they were met by the S-3 who had the same incredulous reaction as the outpost lieutenant. He sat down with the liaison captain and Dill turned over to Captain Anderson, the liaison officer from the 11th Marines. Corporal Krieter radioed battalion to let them know they were still alive. Anderson walked Dill over to Chesty Puller who Dill heard from another officer was wounded so many times he was ‘wired together with plates and steel pegs.’ He had tale after legendary tale that followed him. One story that was true was his favor for staying on the front line. The regimental command post was located where a company CP might typically be and was normally subjected to small arms or mortar fire. It was still light by the time Dill was settling in, so he and Anderson went to the crest of the hill to register the 31st Field’s guns.
He returned to find Puller sitting on the edge of a foxhole. It was basically the entire command post. He had only his S-3 with a large-scale map, his S-2 with a small scale map of a larger area, a radio sergeant, and an orderly whose main task was digging the Colonel’s foxhole. Puller called Dill over and with the S-3 went over a map by flashlight to mark out sectors of fire on his map. He also learned the Marines were using a completely different system than the Army that required translation to fire missions. Soon the small diary Dill kept was littered with scribbles of code conversions.
On the 25th, Dill and Captain Anderson received word that the North Koreans were using the Deoksugung Palace as a headquarters. The ancient Palace of the Kings of Korea was perhaps the oldest building in all of Korea and the most historically significant. A forward observer called in to report that he had seen enemy staging in the grounds and gardens around it, hinting that obliterating the area to neutralize the enemy would be a wise tactical decision. The presence of the enemy was not a pressing matter, and the Lieutenant and Anderson took a moment to share their sentiments about the importance of Deoksugung.
The entire palace rested in the center of Seoul, and was not a single grand structure, but a few humble buildings arranged around gardens intersected by elegant walkways of pale stone. The main hall was only one story, painted earthy red with turquoise details beneath the swooping roof of typical Korean architecture. The other buildings were similar, though the single two-story structure, the Seogeodang, was left as dark, raw wood due to King Seonjo’s wishes. It was a reflection of his consideration of his people’s hardships after the Japanese invasion at the end of the 16th century. In the northwest corner were two large western style buildings of stone, with tall pillars, impressive stone staircases, and very out of place on the grounds. They were certainly recent additions, but nonetheless were a part of Deoksugung. In the southeast corner, a large gate of the same dark red wood split the stonewall perimeter. A few other gates similar to this led to different areas within the palace yard.
Originally the residence of an ancient prince, it was converted to a royal palace during the Imjin War in 1592 when the Japanese burned every other palace in Korea. It became home to the first Joseon king, was relocated, and changed names multiple times over the centuries until renamed in the twentieth century as a wish of longevity to Emperor Gojong. The palace remained as a standing reminder to the years of peace during the Joseon period, a time where the country became known as a hermit kingdom. When Imperial Japan set eyes on the country and annexed in 1910, it ended the short-lived Korean Empire and began and era of great change to the Korean culture. Though the Japanese reduced the size of the palace, it survived to this point, maintaining what little remained of Korea’s own heritage.
From their vantage point, the two officers reflected on the destruction of Monte Cassino during the Second World War, an act that the Pope’s Cardinal secretary State referenced as a ‘colossal blunder’ and ‘a piece of great stupidity.’ They agreed without debate that it was sinful to even consider destroying Deoksugung Palace for any reason and decided to wait as long as possible to spare it from ruin. It was among the first of many instances where James had to consider the morality of the objective. He was bound by orders to complete the mission, but he felt great weight under the consequences of quick destruction he could bring against a few map coordinates. That grid could contain historical markers such as the palace, serene arcadia untouched by the war, or simple homes of hard-working people who devoted their lives to cultivating the land and maintaining their humble lives. In an instant, he could destroy any of these to kill a squad or battalion of Communist soldiers. Was it ever a worthy trade?
*
The assignment with the Marines eventually came to an end with the stabilization of the Inchon-Seoul invasion and Dill was to return to his battalion. He was disappointed to leave and managed to stay the night for one last attack and to contribute to the regimental Fire Support Plan. Captain Anderson said he would be happy for Dill to stay, so he did. The only inconvenience came when a number of people waved and shouted for James to move his ¾ ton truck to make room for General Almond’s helicopter.
At about 2:30 in the morning, the enemy counterattacked and initially it looked bad with some small arms fire getting within the command post area. Captain Anderson notified Dill that his guns were overheating and the line companies were taking casualties. Though the 155s of the 31st Field had shifted trails and turning back would be a serious move for the clumsy weapon, Dill made the call. They would normally have to wake Colonel Welch and ask his permission, but he was already at the fire direction center and responded immediately.
“Industry 100 this is Industry 6. Repeat nature of mission. Over.”
“Industry 6 this is Industry 100. Major enemy attack with armor. We are under heavy fire. Request final protective fires. Over.” Dill looked out over the burning city.
“Industry 100 this is Industry 6.” Welch replied, “Who requests protective fires? Over.”
Such requests typically came from regimental commander, so James paused to think as he was a simple lieutenant. He considered running up the hill to ask General Almond who was still nearby, but he could hear through Anderson’s radio that his forward observers were pleading for fire support before their companies were overrun. Decided that Almond’s earlier remarks were regarding the benefits of fire support, he recalled Corps call sign was something like ‘battle’ and responded.
“Industry 6 this is Industry 100. Battle 6. The request is urgent. Over.”
“Industry 100 this is Industry 6. Wait.”
He learned later that at the fire direction center, Welch was faced with his committed to support the 32d Infantry or turn his guns for Dill’s request. Klaniecki, who had known Dill longer than anyoe else at that point, commented that “Dill is not one to panic in a pinch, and right now his voice sounds like he needs fire support in a hurry.” The Colonel, who could have called Division Artillery for validation or simply refused the request, made his decision.
“Industry 100 this is Industry 3. Adjusting battery is ready. Battalion two zero rounds in effect. Over.”
“We got Battalion two zero rounds!” Dill screamed to Anderson who, in turn, was just as excited. To the radio, he replied to battalion, “Industry 3 this is Industry 100. Am on way to OP. Wait.”
Now he needed to get up to the observation post which was quite a distance away from the radio and too far to shout, but Classon was in position to hear Dill shout from the top and could relay commands to Krieter at the radio. If he needed to, he would run back and forth between the two.
“Classon! I’m ready, request splash.” This relayed and Dill waited until the shell hit, but it was invisible among the flames. “Lost. Repeat range.” Another came in, but it too was lost among the flames and mortar bursts. “Lost, repeat range. Request battery right one round WP in adjustment.”
The white phosphorous was visible among the chaos, but much further from the target than Dill expected. Estimating coordinates in the dark was difficult and any number of variables could have put him out so far.
“Left 800, drop 1000.”
“I sure hope somebody in that FDC has faith in you,” Anderson commented.
Most S-3s would have cancelled for such a radical adjustment, but after another “Add 400” followed by “Drop 200,” Dill was in his bracket. In moments, he had ended the attack with three hundred and sixty rounds of 155mm ammunition all hitting in one place. No armor could stop the 155. The next morning, Dill learned the shells hit right in the middle of the North Korean tanks. At least seven tanks were blown apart along with some self-propelled guns and an unknown number of infantry. One of the Marine commanders, possibly Colonel Puller, was heard on the radio to say: “I don’t know who in the hell you are, but thank God! Out.”
As the sun rose and officer approached Dill’s truck to report the General wanted to see him, which likely meant he was in trouble. Was it that his truck was in the way of his helicopter? Or that he had used his callsign and disrupted the entire allocation of field artillery? To make it worse, Krieter and Classon stated with concern, “Wow, sir! We thought you were doing a good job!” He nervously started up the hill thinking about borrowing that one Marine’s dress sword to commit Hari-kari.
He met Almond at the crest of the hill, saluted, and stood stiff.
“Lieutenant,” the general address him, “Colonel Puller and I have been talking about your work last night. I got up on top in time to see the fire-for-effect myself. That was some of the finest artillery shooting I have ever seen in my service, and I’ve seen a lot of artillery. Colonel Puller agrees that your barrage broke the main assault. I am most pleased with you.”
Nearly fainting from the turn of events, James stammered out some thanks and listened to the detailed results of his firing which Almond continued inquisitively.
“How did you pick up your own bursts in all those flames? I could hear your men shouting all over the place.”
“I called for battery right one round white phosphorous in adjustment, sir.”
“Hm, unusual procedure, but it worked. I will speak to Colonel Welch about you and see that an award is made.” He punctuated the conversation with a firm, “Good day, soldier!”
Finally back to the battalion, Dill cleaned up and got into clean clothes and found Colonel Welch very positive about his work with the 1st Marines. Eventually he received a Bronze Star Medal for the night’s work and in turn Dill immediately wrote up Krieter and Classon for the same award. Major Hensley greeted James with a coveted crossed cannon with number “31” on it. “You did a good job and I want people to know which battalion you belong to.” The supply sergeant provided him with a new field jacket, also a coveted item, from the man who had broken his leg at Yokohama. It still had a scarlet artillery scarf in the pocket which Dill wore for the next year in Korea. Both gifts were as valuable as the Almond’s compliments.
YALU RIVER
On October 7th, the 31st Field marched for Pusan to wait over the next month for their next unknown destination. Being stuck aboard ship was better than being shot on shore. This seemed to be an agreeable feeling among the members of the battalion as they waited to land at Iwon in early November. On the afternoon of November 5th, Dill clambered down the cargo net into an LST to go ashore. The flat-bottomed boat promptly grounded on a small sandbar and they did not make it to the beach until sunset.
Onboard the ship and in the days immediately after landing, Dill had been made assistant communications officer and executive officer of HQ Battery. On a somewhat voluntary basis, he also commanded the Koreans in the battalion’s security platoon since no one else paid attention to them. The platoon was under the leadership of an American sergeant and two Korean sergeants, both named Kim, who had been appointed after they claimed to have been non-commissioned officers in the Japanese army. In addition to these two, a full third of the platoon were also named Kim. After dark fell on the beach, Dill quickly abandoned roll call in favor of just counting heads to assure full attendance.
Orders for the 7th Division to push to the Yalu came on November 9th. Details for the battalion instructed them to stay along the coast except for one battery which would move inland with its own fire direction center and very little supervision. The commander and executive should be completely qualified in gunnery practices that had been undergoing extensive changes during the past year and a half after the introduction of the target grid system. Since Dill and Klaniecki were the only two officers directly from Fort Sill, Colonel Welch appointed Klaniecki to command B Battery for detachment to the 57th Field in support of the 31st Infantry. In turn, Klaniecki chose Dill as his executive. The request was unexpected as Dill was a junior Lieutenant and such an appointment was typically reserved for a more senior officer of the rank, but between his organization and training of FDC personnel before Inchon and experience during the Seoul operation, he had a reputation despite being among the youngest officers of the battalion.
The former B Battery executive assumed Dill’s position in HQ Battery and the two swapped pistols to keep the serial numbers correct in the property books, which were full of notes of “lost due to enemy action” against a great deal of shortages since before Inchon. Among them was an item called ‘Holder, M108,’ which nobody was familiar with until Dill requested the supply sergeant find one. (When they returned to South Korea, the item arrived – it was a clipboard and proved to be useful.)
The Battery broke camp two days later, packing their two small command post tents and the fly the for the mess. In the fashion of the old horse-drawn artillery, the first sergeant sounded his whistle that queued the other sergeants to bellow “Mount up!” down the line. Dill took his place at the front of the column in the ¾ ton truck allotted to the executive and fire direction center personnel. Only then did the first sergeant pull the unit guidon and case it. He informed Dill as he passed that it was customary to keep it flying until the last man boarded and plant it immediately at the next position. Captain Klaniecki’s pulled to the edge of the road and with a grand wave, swung his arm forward to order the march.
As they began driving, Dill immediately realized his truck was missing the windshield. The cold Siberian winds blasted into the cab and Dill was quickly trying to bargain his prestigious seat with the crew. Lieutenant Moon humbly declined, insisting he was unworthy of such an honor and the enlisted men claimed they would never disgrace the battery by taking an officer’s seat.
The battery climbed the narrow dirt road into the mountains along switchbacks hardly wide enough for the gun tractors. The surrounding slopes were generally bare of vegetation, covered in light snow, and only dry scrub persisted to poke through the dusty coat. Occasionally a concrete post with Japanese characters marked distance on the road as they approached their destination of Cham-dong at the foot the Puksubaek Massif, an 8200-foot-tall mass of which most still held by the enemy.
Colonel Embree of the 57th Field visited the next morning and shortly after began receiving fire missions, but the battery position was not very favorable and Captain Klaniecki left to seek out better sites. Dill was on his own to register the guns to the 57th base point. The first round slammed into a ridge in front of them and left the young lieutenant rather embarrassed. He reviewed his trajectory – he had the minimum quadrant necessary to clear it and there were no errors in the gun settings. Between Dill, Lieutenant Moon and Sergeant Baskhill they concluded the cold was so intense that the powder was not behaving in the way the tables said it should.
That night, the temperature dropped even lower to 32-below on the powder thermometers – highly accurate instruments carried by each gun section for measuring the actual temperature of the gunpowder. There was no question it was an accurate reading. Over the next few days, men began to succumb to frostbite and required evacuation. Only the small command post tents and ammunition tarpaulins offered any protection from the frigid elements. Some men who had purchased shoepacs passed them around between sentries at night, otherwise the basic combat boot was the only footwear. Removing boots and socks at least twice a day and massaging feet, as per protocol, did prevent frostbite, but even that task was difficult.
The men resorted to layering their summer and autumn clothing to combat the cold. Dill did have long johns that he had gotten at Pusan. Over those, he wore the standard ‘Shade 33’ wools and two sets of HBTs. His field jacket with hood went over the assembly as a fine windbreaker. The only gloves available were leather work gloves which were completely inadequate, but without them it was impossible to touch any metal without having one’s skin stick. The worst problem was skin splitting along where fingernails joined the skin. Behind that were cracked lips. Dill had the foresight to carry chapstick on leaving the United States, but other men resorted to using some kind of white salve that the aidman procured.
There was a small gasoline stove in the exec post used during fire missions as the fire direction center men could not work charts and firing tables with stiff fingers. It was also protocol that Dill sleep in this tent and treasured the lingering warmth after a mission. The mess section used their field range for as long as possible to keep coffee warm before extinguishing the flame to conceal their position. After two nights of the frozen torture, Klaniecki assembled the battery for a vote.
“Do you want to build fires and chance being shot, or do you want to continue without fires at night and risk freezing to death?” A very brief discussion followed resulting in an overwhelming majority in favor of building fires. The captain reminded Dill of Xenophon putting important matters to the vote of the Ten Thousand and he mentioned this, but Klaniecki was not as familiar with classical literature and by the time Dill had explained it, the point of his compliment was lost.
On most days, Klaniecki was out on reconnaissance trying to find a way to move closer to the 31st Infantry. He took with him his driver, chief of detail, an English-speaking ROK, and sometimes the recon officer. When they returned, they were always near the edge of collapsing from the cold. On one occasion the driver was so stiff he needed to be lifted out of the jeep to thaw near a fire.
Their move north continued again on the morning of November 17th. After thirty miles, they arrived at a tiny village that ended up being the site of their heaviest firing yet in Korea. Division artillery headquarters was only a few miles away and General Kiefer visited during their firing. He witnessed first-hand how terrible the radios were working. Of the four the battery had, only Dill’s remained operational and it went out twice. The cold was too much for the equipment. The next day, men from Kiefer’s staff arrived to repair the radios and spent most of the day on the task as they had to stop every few minutes to warm their hands.
Almost a foot of snow fell by the next morning, somehow insulating the land in a way that made it feel warmer. It was indeed ten degrees warmer at only 20 below. Some form of pneumonia took hold of Klaniecki and the battery aidman planned to evacuate him. The prospect of commanding the battery alone terrified Dill who suddenly felt far younger and inexperienced. He spent the night trying to keep the Captain warm.
Orders the next morning concluded B Battery’s mission with the 31st Infantry and instructed them to move farther north to support the 32d Infantry. Still sick, Klaniecki insisted on going to the 48th Field (with the 32d Infantry) and would accept no change in plans. “Reconnaissance is the battery commander’s job and as long as I’m command this outfit, I’m going to do it.” He stubbornly pulled himself out of his illness.
Winter clothing finally arrived on the 22d. There were still no overcoats, but the shipment did include shoepacs to replace their thin leather combat boots. They moved out to the ancient walled town of Kapsan the next day. They found it in ruins with only a few pathetic inhabitants remaining. Their mission with the 32d was fleeting as the new word was they would support the 17th Infantry along the Yalu in a few days. Everyone was eager to dip their toes into the legendary river.
By that time, Dill’s B Battery of the 31st Field was the only 155mm gun battery so far north in Korea. They carried their own entire supply of ammunition and service battery section had to supply from the nearest dump at least a hundred miles away. They sent them out after unloading two hundred rounds to resupply. By the time they were ready to return days later, plans changed.
On Thanksgiving came a welcome break from corned beef hash rations and the battery enjoyed a proper meal of Turkey and trimmings. They were advised the war was nearly over and could prepare to return to Japan soon where they should review close order drill for a victory parade. Headquarters wanted Klaniecki back for administrative reasons and to plan for the return to Japan. They told him something to the effect of: “Tell Dill he won’t have to do anything while you’re gone. Nothing is going to happen in the next few days. He will just sit there in position until you get back.” The Captain departed on the morning of the 25th with one more instruction to ensure everyone shaved.
*
In the warmth of his sleeping bag that night, James fell into the best sleep he had since landing at Iwon. It took him a moment to fully wake up after he was frantically shaken awake before midnight. The sentry on duty had the phone from Division who wanted to speak with the battery commander. The voice on the other end identified himself as the Division operations officers.
“Is the battery commander?”
“No, sir, this is Lieutenant Dill, executive and acting battery commander.”
“Well, are you in command?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are to move out your battery to So-dong-ni at once,” the G-3 instructed. “Get moving!”
“Where is So-dong-ni?” Dill interrupted before the call ended. “I’ve never heard of it!”
“It’s south of Division headquarters at Pungsan. Stop by on the way for further orders.”
“Good God, sir! That’s over eighty miles!” Dill searched for flexibility in the order. “Can’t it wait until morning? I’m not sure the gun tractors can make it down the road at night with the mountains covered in ice.”
“Stop arguing and get moving Lieutenant! Leave with your advance party at once and have your guns follow as soon as they can march-order. If something can’t be moved, blow it up.”
“Blow it up?”
“You heard me,” the G-3 was sharp by now. “I’ll tell you more when you get to Pungsan, but those howitzers of yours have got to start long before daybreak.”
“Yes, sir! March order at once.”
The Lieutenant was thrashing his way out of his sleeping bag as the call ended. The others in the exec post were rising as well. “Did I hear you say march order or am I having a nightmare?” Dill replied to Lieutenant Moon: “Both!”
He pulled on his boots and field jacket, the only items not worn in sleeping bag, and repeated orders to the section chiefs as they came to the exec post. Considering Division had called the battery directly and bypassed everyone else in between, Dill understood the urgency. Immediately, Sergeant Hartzog inquired about the two hundred rounds of ammunition from the service battery section that the trucks would not be able to carry. Dill had no idea how to blow up two hundred rounds of 155mm without blowing himself and everyone else up, too. As he considered the destruction, the sound of trucks came from the main supply route – empty trucks from a supply run to the 17th Infantry. By sheer luck, that problem resolved itself.
*
The journey south felt colder than any other time in Korea. They stopped frequently at MP checkpoints just to warm by their fires. At one point, the truck behind Dill began honking because two of their men had passed out from the cold. The other members were huddled together trying to keep them warm with body heat. Dill ordered everyone out and set them to cutting down bushes with bayonets to get two fires going. They revived and the journey continued, though near the end Dill was near collapse and his driver was audibly moaning. Division headquarters which was settled in a valley had a reading of 36 below that night, so Dill reasoned the high mountain passes were even colder.
The headquarters was established in a small schoolhouse, always the most substantial building of humble Korean towns. They were greeted with hot coffee and rooms with stoves running, though they barely influenced the temperature at all it was so cold. James reported to the G-3 who had been up all night since their phone call. He greeted the Lieutenant with a welcome cup of coffee.
“We had a message brought in to our forward outposts by relays of Korean runners. It was written in Korean from a headsman of a village downriver from Hyesanjin. He says that thousands and thousands of Chinese are crossing the Yalu and heading due south.”
Such an event seemed impossible, especially in light of the prospect of victory not twelve hours earlier. The G-3 responded to Dill’s string of questions with moderate patience. Whether the warning was valid or not, General Barr believed it and in his experience with the Chinese as an adviser during World War II he was not willing to dismiss the warning. He wanted to consolidate the scattered 7th Division as quickly as possible. They believed the Chinese intended to cut between the Marines and the 7th Division until they reached the Pujon Reservoir and cut off the Marines from Hagaru-ri at the southern end of the Chosin Reservoir or the Army between Pungsan and Pukchong. One infantry battalion and C Battery, 57th Field covered this area and Dill was to take B Battery to support them.
Dill boldly interjected that to do so, the Chinese would have to cross terrain that he knew a company of the 31st Infantry had struggled to pass over. The G-3 accepted his feedback, but added that General Barr understood there was no land the Chinese were not capable of crossing over. As they spoke, the General came into the war room looking worn and tired. Dill snapped a salute and Barr shook his hand and explained his decisions. To do such a thing for a young lieutenant was unheard of and Dill appreciated his courtesy. His stay at Division was brief and he was off again to continue to his destination. For the entire ride, he pondered how well the 130 carbines and fifteen pistols of the battery could fend off a Chinese division or two if it came to it.
Around dawn, B Battery was in position and Dill visited the 57th Field’s C Battery to make arrangements and lay wire. He returned to his B Battery to establish gun positions where he decided to point only four guns to the southeast. In an unorthodox decision, he put two facing north just in case the Chinese came from that direction. By noon, he had prepared everything he could think of and settled down to nap on the floor of an abandoned building.
Within two hours he was shaken awake to greet Captain Klaniecki. He stumbled out to salute him which the commander dismissed with a tired wave. “A find exec you turned out to be! I leave you alone for 24 hours and you hijack my battery clear across Asia!” His return was an immediate relief, especially when he approved of all the plans Dill had made.
From there, the Battery continued to receive orders to march back to the coast to Battalion headquarters at Pukchong. The march over mountains was treacherous through a heavy snowstorm that reduced visibility so men on foot had to lead the column and forced slow movement to keep vehicles from sliding off the road. By the time they reached Pukchong, Dill and Klaniecki were happy to be back. Though initially excited at the prospect of working independently, the shelter of battalion leadership was welcome. They were in contact with McClymont’s battery of 15th AAA Battalion at the Chosin Reservoir who were taking heavy casualties with the 31st Regimental Combat Team. The 31st Field was to move to Hamhung on the coast.
*
They made it without too much trouble under clear skies until the road steepened near the coast and ice over the road became thicker and even more slippery. The entire battery was soon at work chopping away to allow the tractors to move. By late afternoon just before the early sunset, Dill was at the head of the column supervising the work when several men began screaming and yelling. The fourth tractor in line was sliding inch by inch toward a sheer drop over the edge of a curve. There was still enough light where Dill could see the driver frantically trying to regain control, but the tractor and towed howitzer continued drifting sideways. Bellowing “No! No! No!” Dill took off as fast as he could back up the hill while the vehicle continued moving in slow motion until it toppled over the side. One man managed to jump off, but the rest went down over the fifty-foot drop.
The tractor and howitzer plummeted into deep snow, motor still running and tracks spinning. The snow saved the occupants who had not jettisoned and they walked away with cuts and bruises with the help of other artillerymen who clambered down and around the cliff. After a conference about the conditions, Klaniecki agreed with Dill they could never reach Hamhung chopping ice the entire way and losing vehicles and guns over the cliffs. They decided to keep chopping ice until reaching Yongdae with a small railroad and find a way to make it to Hamhung by rail. Dill took off to investigate in Klaniecki’s jeep along with the ROK who spoke the best English.
They found that Yongdae did indeed have a railroad depot, but no affordances for loading cars. A large pile of railroad ties might offer a makeshift ramp, but that would take some time which they did not have. The ROK returned in less than ten minutes to report there was a town meeting going on. The group intruded and startled the Koreans who were in the process of commandeering the town now that the Americans and ROK troops were leaving and the Communist sympathizers could take charge again. Regardless of their intentions or political affiliation, Dill needed to use the rail depot and approached the situation with the utmost diplomacy. He told the ROK, to the shock of their driver, to bow to who appeared to be the mayor and tell him they had traveled the world and never seen such a fine town.
“Mayor, he glad to know he have number one town,” the ROK translated. “He want to know if you’re going to shoot him?”
“Tell him I’m not going to shoot anyone. Tell him he also has a very fine railroad depot.”
“Mayor, he glad you know he have number one railroad depot. He still want to know if you’re going to shoot him.”
“I said I wasn’t, but his depot needs a loading ramp. Ask him to turn out the whole town and start building one from those ties.”
“Mayor say he glad to build number one ramp! He want to know if you not shoot him if he build number one ramp.”
“Honest Injun, I’m not going to shoot anyone. I just need that ramp.”
“I not know Korean for ‘Honest Injun’,” the ROK replied confused.
“Nevermind. Just tell him to build the ramp.”
With that, Dill bowed again and they climbed back into the jeep back for the mountain road. He asked the ROK if he really thought they were going to build the ramp.
“Oh, yes, sir!” He was enthusiastically confident. “I tell them you most mean son-of-bitch in whole American Army. I tell them you shoot all men in town on Yongdae if they not build ramp. I tell them you shoot own GIs when they no do what you say.”
*
After midnight they reached battalion headquarters and Dill suddenly began shaking. Though Colonel Welch was genial and considerate, for some reason he was terrified to report the loss of a howitzer. The cold, physical and mental exhaustion, and lack of sleep seemed to be catching up to him. Trying his best to subdue his shakes, he explained the situation to Welch when he awoke and met him.
“Quit looking upset, Lieutenant,” the Colonel said immediately. “I know you and Klaniecki would have done everything you could.” He agreed there was no feasible way of making it to the coast by road and would start looking for flatcars and if they were not available, he would ask the Navy to take them off the beach. Dill saluted and turned to leave.
“Where are you going now?”
“Back to the battery, sir. Captain Klaniecki will need me.”
“No, you’re not! I’ll get word about the train to Klaniecki. Find a place to sleep until breakfast, have a hot meal, and then start back. You’re out on your feet. If you don’t know it, everyone else does!”
After a few hours of decent sleep and hot meal (though it was more corned beef hash), Dill managed to shave for the first time since leaving Kapsan. As he started back, the adjutant handed over an order and back pay for the battery. The men were waiting on two months of pay and with Finance leaving for Hamhung, it was sensible that Dill take the money back to the battery. However, carrying several thousand dollars into Korean backcountry was not appealing.
The battery had reached Yongdae when Dill returned and there was a well-constructed ramp waiting for them. They paid the mayor with a box of C rations and he seemed terrified, likely for fear of conspiring with Americans and being shot by his superiors and also for fear of how the ROK interpreter had comically described Dill. The train arrived late at night and the battery loaded cars until morning. Some trucks would still have to go by road, which Lieutenant Moon took charge of, but the rest fit on the train. C Battery, 57th Field Artillery passed through looking just as rough as the 31st. One of the drivers slumped over crying in his truck and the captain beside tried to console him. Klaniecki approached the captain and asked what happened.
“They’re all dead,” he said mechanically. “My whole battalion is dead except for C Battery. A, B, Headquarters and Service have been wiped out. We’re all that’s left. The infantry with them are gone, too. Colonel MacLean is dead. The Marines are cut off by now. Nobody knows where A Battery is – they were on their way to join the 57th.
“Radio contact was lost just before daylight this morning. The radio operator from D of the 15th came on the air and said the Chinese were in among the guns. He said not many men were still alive, but those that were able to walk had loaded the wounded on trucks and were going to try to break out along the road to Hagaru and reach the Marine lines. Then he stopped transmitting for a minute or so. Then we heard ‘Oh my God! Here they are!’ That was all. The radio went dead. Air observation now reports nothing but burning trucks and Chinese. That’s what they told me at Pukchong. They’re all dead.”
That was the report of what occurred east of Chosin at the time. The captain and his driver departed to rejoin their battery and left Dill and his battery ‘sick and despondent.’ The finished loading badly shaken by the grim report. Had the Chinese turned east instead of west or if Barr had not forced their retreat, they would have been the ones to die.
*
By mid-December, the 31st Field was in the process of blowing up replaceable supplies. They dealt with the ammunition dump in this way and it was a surprise when it occurred. Everyone thought the Chinese had dropped an atomic bomb. The battalion occupied their last position near the beach under shells from Naval gunfire. The wind was brutal and the men resorted to shouting to hear each other over the constant gusts. All gear went onto trucks destined for cargo ships and the men carried only their weapons and essentials. They finally boarded the USNS Hienselman on December 18th and Dill had his first bath in 43 days. He had become so callused to the cold that the warmth was a truly strange sensation.
MUNGOL-LI
Around the Tanyang Pass in January, Dill was forward observer for units of the 7th Division, 187th Airborne, and 5th ROK Division. He had previously spent several days with the 17th ROK Infantry Regiment in Seoul and developed a great appreciation for the Koreans and their immense effort to rebuild after years of Japanese occupation. He left his beloved 31st Field in late March with he transferred to C Battery, 57th Field Artillery in support for the 31st Infantry Regiment. This assignment soon led up to sixteen pivotal days around a secluded hamlet called Mungol-li, a hidden arcadia as Dill described it. He later published a book about this experience during May 1951 during the height of the communist expanse into Korea. His last entry of that period from May 20th stated shortly: “Moved back on line. Terrible mountain to climb.” This was enough to describe the remainder of his tour in Korea.
He would remain in country until November of that year, accumulating credit for seven campaigns over fifteen months. When he arrived in Sasebo for movement home, he was amazed that his B-4 bag was still tucked away where he left it. He had undergone a major transformation, particularly during his first few months in combat after which he was, though still a young lieutenant, a distinguished professional at his craft. His attention to his surroundings and recollection of details made for an extensive unpublished manuscript to pair with his book of comparable length, and together they only covered a fraction of his entire campaign in Korea. It took James three more years to decide soldiering was not the life he was destined for and after that he still spent twenty years in the reserves. He was forever proud of his adventures in Korea.