"He flies first class, stays in the best hotels and receives $25 a day meal money," noted a 1976 article about the luxuries of Jim O'Gorman's career as a stage manager in the NBC broadcast booth. "But it wasn't always that way for the 47-year-old Irishman." He ran away from home at sixteen, just as the war in Europe ended, and joined the Navy, beginning seven and a half years in the service. By June 8th, 1945 he was on active duty, and by September, he was at sea aboard the U.S.S. Vincennes and then the cruiser U.S.S. Oklahoma City as a ireman First Class. He served as a checkman in the fire room, responsible for checking boiler water, maintaining main feed pumps, and overseeing repairs and overhauls.
After a year overseas, he took his discharge (already noting interest in journalism) and after another year with a lull in activity, enlisted in the Army. He was immediately made corporal and two months, joined K Company, 16th Infantry Regiment of the famed and decorated 1st Infantry Division. Life even as a rifleman in Occupied Germany had its advantages, but by 1949 he was looking at pursuing his personal interests. It was while stationed in Berlin, working as a disc jockey on a jazz radio show with the 7706th Armed Forces Radio Network, that Jim first became interested in broadcasting. He spent a year classed as an entertainment specialist with the radio unit before returning to the United States.
HILL 440
After the war in Korea broke out, Jim pleaded with his command in autumn of 1950 to deploy to the combat theater. At the instruction of his superiors, some of whom noted it would not benefit him particularly due to his focus on radio work, he put the request in writing in November. His request was granted and by the end of January 1951, after promotion to sergeant and signing another three-year contract, he was in Japan and moving through the replacement pipeline. Near Uijongbu, he reached E Company, 15th Infantry Regiment on March 18th in the midst of Operation Ripper. In his first days on the line, he was in the middle of the fighting front.
Some slopes still carried snowmelt beneath the surface. E Company moved frequently—night harassing fire and short, hard patrols defined the first weeks. The Chinese fought bitterly in the hills north of Uijongbu and it was a full ten days of hard fighting before the regiment returned to division reserve. Within that first month O’Gorman was promoted to Sergeant First Class, a quick recognition of his character in a platoon where men were still learning his name. The regiment was constituted as a regimental combat team and moved to special duties with I Corps, spending less time with the 3d Division directly. Their subsequent fights, though crucial to I Corps units, 2d Division, the Belgians, British and Koreans, often went poorly recorded, slipping between command reports and unit histories.
In the third week of May, 2nd Battalion received orders to move on the steep ridgelines west of the Hwachon Reservoir. The ground was broken, forested, and slick with spring rain. On May 20th, the battalion took Hill 520. E Company led the push, climbing through machine gun bursts and air-burst artillery. The enemy was there, but mobile, fading into cover and then returning with sniper fire from behind the next rise.
Two days later, the regiment pushed against objectives north of Pungam-ni in support of the 2d Division. E Company faced Hill 440. Artillery had blasted the hilltop for days and the Air Force had recently strafed and dumped napalm across the crest. The enemy, well entrenched after months of digging and crafting emplacements, remained stubborn.
Jim’s squad was wet and tired after a night of no sleep in steady rain. As they approached the slopes of 440, machinegun fire swept across a wide front, and soon the grazing fire had them pinned down. Every step forward meant crossing open ground raked by machine guns buried deep into the slope. Orders came to move to a postion from which the squad could better assault the emplacements – a seemingly impossible ask given their current position. Without regard for the bullets snapping by, Jim stood up and with a gallant sweep of his hand, bellowed for his men to follow. They cleared bunkers at close range, rifle shots echoing inside wood-and-earth chambers. They killed two and wounded four, taking six casualties of their own in the process.
Ignoring his shortcomings and still braving the hostile fire, the Sergeant continued to lead his squad up the hill to claim their ground in what was described as a ‘furious assault.’ Only when he was ordered to withdraw did O’Gorman cease his advance and evacuate his wounded men. For four days the company battled for Hill 440, finally claiming the top and digging in for another sleepless night at 100 percent guard. The actions on May 22nd warranted a total of five Silver Star Medals for E Company, plus two Bronze Star Medals for valor.
He stayed with the company through the summer. New operations came with the rains—slow, muddy fights along the ridges northeast of Yonchon. While days and weeks were marked with sharp battles, the overall picture was reduced to a short passage in the regimental history, noting that ‘the line was comparitvely stable through June 1951 until the end of hostilities.’ After he was promoted to master sergeant, Jim heard of his mother’s poor health and requested leave at home. With his hardship recognized, his passage home was quickly granted and on September 2nd, he boarded transport back to the United States to care for his family.
LITTLE GIBRALTAR
When he returned to Korea in late November, he spent a week with his platoon. It was cold and rainy as he moved back to the front, passing blown out tanks and vehicles and shattered little villages with poor civlians and children, many without clothes, who were about to face the winter. The 2d Battalion dug into low hills behind the 7th Infantry, the main line of resistance, against Little Gilbraltar. It was cloudy and cold as E Company ascended their assigned hill near evening when darkness approached earlier and quickly dimmed the already gray November skies. From the forward slopes, O’Gorman could see the large hill mass Hill 355 nicknamed Little Gibralatar, and despite its relatively small size, it was the dominant feature in that area of the western front and easy to see why it was so desirable.
After the 7th Infantry was pushed off its peak near Thanksgiving, 2d Battalion was tasked with retaking the hill. E Company would follow F Company in the assault, but happened to be the hardest hit in the coming days. They moved out under cover of darkness, moving single file all night to reach the bottom of the slope before them. The temperature had dropped near fifteen degrees and it was spitting snow. While the cold northwest wind chilled them, it was not terrible until stopping to rest and Jim’s sweat froze. They were still waiting for adequate winter clothing and their field jackets and layers of shirts and pants were hardly enough to keep out the biting wind.
Near daybreak, O’Gorman watched the silouhettes of F Company scaling the side of Little Gibralatar. Not a shot had been fired yet and he waited with antipcation. As soon as some of the men jumped into the right bunker, everything let loose and soon the assault company was fighting through trenches. The wounded crawled down the hill and the dead lay still where they had been blown back from grenades or gunfire. They watched throughout the day until F Company claimed the top the of the blown apart hill until evening when they finally entered the battle to take over the hard fought positions. While making the exchange, the Chinese blasted the top of Little Gibralatar with mortar fire.
The night was cold and Jim shivered in his foxhole, his breath rising in thin, trembling wisps. Before long, the cold was forgotten. A blaring of bugles pierced the darkness — the signal for the Chinese attack. They came in waves, shadows against the snow-brushed slope, and E Company repelled them again and again from the crest. When ammunition ran low, runners darted across the hill with crates of rounds meant for G Company, passed hand-to-hand beneath mortar bursts.
In the dim hours before dawn, the fighting devolved into a wanton fray. With bayonets fixed, rifles jammed or emptied, men fought in the frozen trenches without pause or plan. Time stretched thin, each second thick with noise and movement. They fired and swung at the dark figures swarming over the top, determined to hold the ground the battalion had already sacrificed so much more.
It was the last battle for Jim. He had only one month left to serve in Korea and when the regiment moved to O’Connell Pass, he transferred to Headquarters Company, 2d Battalion as a supply sergeant. The area near the Imjin was surrounded by massive hills which took nearly an hour to climb in a cold rain. The next month passed slowly with little action from the Chinese and once again, he boarded transport for home.
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Still pursuing his interest in radio and broadcasting, O'Gorman transferred back to his old 7706th Armed Forces Network Company for a year in Bremerhaven, one of the six major studios across Germany. The world of news and entertainment—a noisy blur of lights and scripts—offered a cozy contrast to the frozen nights and gunmetal mornings of Korea. It was his last Regular Army assignment before returning to Detroit where he ultimately accepted a reserve officer commission into the National Guard. His struggle to balance two lives became a slow, grinding war of its own. As he rose through the entertainment industry, his Army Reserve service became harder to reconcile. Transfers mounted; unit affiliations shifted; drill attendance became more complicated amid changing work schedules. In 1958, the strain finally reached a breaking point. With regret, he acknowledged the "undue hardship" his continued Reserve obligations placed on both his career and family. By 1959, his long road of military service formally ended and he focused wholly on his broadcast career.
Beginning with WWJ in Detroit, he moved to NBC in New York by 1963, becoming a vital, unseen force in major sports productions. Known for his calm under pressure, O'Gorman acted as the vital link between producers, directors, and on-air talent during Monday Night Baseball broadcasts. His job demanded diplomacy, quick thinking, and a willingness to take charge without making enemies. By the mid-1970s, he was NBC’s top sports stage manager, overseeing broadcasts with military precision, always the steady voice amid the roar of crowds and the clatter of last-second production changes before silence in the production booth. The battles O'Gorman fought in Korea had long since ended, but the qualities forged there—leadership, calm under fire, and fierce dedication—followed him every day, in every booth, under every ticking clock.