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Christmas was only two weeks away but the holiday spirit was far removed, as we plowed through the cold waters of the Sea of Japan, off the coast of North Korea.
The previous December, our life was full of the traditional maritime adventure, where the biggest danger you faced was food poisoning, an assault by a drunken shipmate, or the discomfort of a social disease, while wondering around the exotic ports of the world. Suddenly we discovered that it wasn't really peace time, and the remnants of World War II had boiled over again in Asia. Twenty-six thousand miles later and with a bit of apprehension, we became an arm of the newly formed United Nations Military force. Young men found out it was no longer fun and games. There were people actually being killed out there, and they were running for their lives.
Working in the Combat Information Center was more like a giant Nintendo game. My ears could listen to the sounds of modern jet fighter planes attacking targets of opportunity, ranging from horses to speeding locomotives, or from tanks to MIG fighter jets from both North Korea and China. I was responsible for monitoring radio communications, and the air control for a particular flight, while viewing potential foes on various radar screens. My mind could visualize dramatic scenes, but I was far removed from seeing or smelling the horrors of war. I was getting mature quickly, but it wasn't really hitting home until the day before.
We had tracked and identified a small open boat that was nearing our convoy. Our aerial observation advised us it was occupied by many civilians crammed in a small vessel. We pulled along side to take them aboard after a whaleboat from a ship checked them out to make sure it wasn't a decoy. We still remembered Wonsan, where people on the island approaching the harbor held up white flags symbolizing submission. Two small mine sweepers sent in to check them out were badly shot up by hidden artillery batteries, and we learned a hard lesson about our enemy. This craft was found to be non belligerent, and then towed to our vessel, because of the elaborate medical facilities we had on board.
As I watched from the top of the gangway I finally realized what war really was. An open boat no more than twenty-five feet in length held forty some people. These families were just trying to reach freedom and escape the threat from the marauding communist troops. Unfortunately for them it was the middle of the winter, and the temperatures were near or below freezing much of the time they made their voyage across the open seas. Their clothing offered them little protection against the ravaging cold winds. It was shocking to my young senses. Half of them had been frozen to death and were now icy mannequins of war. The other half were ill and too weak to even throw the dead bodies out of the boat so they would have enough room to work on their survival. Death had not been selective -- small children frozen in time next to their grand parents who had expired trying to protect their young ones from the inevitable.
First, those alive where carried up the gangway and passed my close vantage point. I was frozen too, but not by the temperature. My instincts where frozen by the horror of it all. Their eyes seldom moved because they could not fully comprehend even what was going on. Poor peasants who had little to bring with them but hope, which had long since disappeared. One conscious mother's eyes didn't move but they were teary as she clutched on to her child who did not appear to be alive, but she held on tightly anyway. A young child, who I thought looked like a seven or eight year old girl was moving around in the arms of a caring seaman. She was more noticeable, because along with her bland, oversized quilted coat she had on bright red mittens. Her eyes were also surprisingly bright as she was overwhelmed by these incredible events. Her dark eyes darted in every direction and I wondered if she would be the fruit this well intended but sad mission would bare, for all of their noble efforts. A little smile crossed my face but not for long.
The scene was repeated so many times with those poor suffering survivors. My relief when the final living soul was carried aboard was short circuited by a look back at the small boat where those not alive were being prepared for bringing them aboard. I had seen enough, I could not bare the thoughts of having to watch the rest of this emotional episode. A wave of guilt flowed over me as I thought of how often I had indulged in self pity. These poor people where only looking for the basics of life, we all too often take for granted.
I didn't sleep well that night, and it wasn't the coffee, although we regularly drank too much coffee. I laid quietly in my gently swinging, canvas bunk, along with many other men who were no longer as young as they might have been yesterday. I'm sure I saw the little girl with the red mittens visualized in my mind dozens of times.
Finally I heard the ship's bells announce it was 3:30 AM, and I jumped out of the bunk to begin the first shift, the first mission launches of the day. I walked up the series of ladders to reach my post It was so quiet at this time of the morning that the sound of the engines, far removed, become uncommonly loud. I cranked open the iron hatch to enter the eerie, dimly lit Combat Center. My wake up coffee hardly broke through my exhaustion from a sleepless night.
This had become a familiar routine. With our tremendous firepower the enemy was forced to operate primarily at night under the protection of darkness. We would launch dawn and dusk flights trying to catch them before they secreted themselves into enclosures or other protection for the day. Occasionally a real prize, like a military freight train was caught at dawn, before it could reach the shelter of a mountain tunnel. We were running out of serious targets as the North Korean Army was pushed closer to the Yalu. Their air force had been distroyed along with most of their tanks.
Then the war became more grim, when the Chinese Army began pouring over the Yalu River into North Korea. We had destroyed the bridges over the river that separated China from North Korea, but the water was frozen solid enough to provide easy access for all but their very heavy equipment, which they had little of. Their mobility without heavy equipment provided them with a strong advantage in the mountainous terrain. They made up for it in numbers of men, hundreds of thousands pouring into the country, and entering the battle.
That morning we were launching raids to protect the heavily outnumbered US Marines retreating across the vast Chosin Reservoir. These brave men were faced with a dilemma. Crawl across the ice and risk frost bite and hypothermia, or stand up and be easy targets for the Chinese infantry. Hordes of Chinese forces had split the US ground troops, and had surrounded them. Only our superior air power provided the means for their escape.
I could see it all now, because I had been brought along on the flight this time. The horrors and frustration of front line combat. The casualties we were taken as they fought against tremendous numerical odds. The joy of seeing an enemy artillery group or machine gun emplacement torn apart by the bombs and rocket ordinance we rained down on them.
I had dosed off from the lack of sleep and this dream was so real to me as I heard real live broadcast from the pilots through my ear sets, and my tired mind created the visuals to complete the drama. I opened my eyes and wondered if any one had noticed, or how long I had actually nodded off. The flight group was calling to give me a status report on their fuel supply and ammunition. I responded hoping this was the first time they had called me.
The military retreat continued back to Hungnam harbor, and was completed on Christmas Eve. The last ships departed safely under a continuous bombardment of the city's perimeter to prevent the enemy from doing any more damage, as we pulled our ships out to relocate those troops farther south. Two ton projectiles from battleships straddled the harbor with a twenty mile arc that provided an iron curtain around the escape route. Our bombers added to the circle of hell for any of the enemy foolish enough to try and penetrate it.
Four million pounds of explosive were delivered by the various naval weaponry. It was so intense that none of our forces suffered any fatal casualties during the last twenty-four hours that we participated in the evacuation. In twelve days 105,000 ground troops had been evacuated. Ninety-one thousand Korean civilians were also evacuated on over crowded supply ships, one of which was actually temporarily grounded by the weight of it's human cargo.
Like a Hollywood war movie, the combat stopped after darkness. All the flights returned safely and the planes were stowed safely on the flight deck and partially on the hangar deck. Large snow flakes were being driven by a winter storm that blanketed the flight deck to decorate the solemn Christmas celebration. The rest of the hangar deck was prepared and a large Midnight Mass was held for a very attentive audience. Not just more people, but the intensity was different than any similar ceremony I've ever attended. I thought of the little girl with the red mittens and offered a prayer for her.
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