ROSIE AND JOSH TALKIN’

This is a short story about two very young soldiers dealing with the trauma of war the only way they know.  …with a sense of humor.

“Hey Rosie, you ever been laid?” asked Josh.

“Don’t rightly know” answered Rosie.

Rosie barely seventeen and Josh goin’ on eighteen were talkin’. Rosie was leaning against the trench holding his head with his hands. Josh had seen him and he knew that Rosie was thinkin’ about those American GI’s that had been accidentally killed on a combat patrol the night before.

“Well if you been laid, you sure as hell woulda’ knowed it.  What is this bullshit ‘you don’t rightly know’.  Now, God Damn it, Rosie, have you been laid or haven’t you?” asked Josh.

“Well, does doin’ it to yourself count?” asked Rosie.

‘Naw, that’s jerkin’ off, that ain’t getting laid” replied Josh

“Now, one more time.  Rosie, have you ever been laid?” asked Josh

Rosie asked “Can I lie?”

Josh just rolled his eyes.

“Cause I’m downright embarrassed. No, I ain’t ever been laid” muttered Rosie.

“I knowed, I knowed it. You out here where you might get kilt and you ain’t ever been laid.  That’s a waste of a good pecker. Sho’ nuff.  These things gotta’ be used ya’ know “ Josh put his arm around Rosie and shook him gently.

“Why? It ain’t gonna’ fall off is it?”  Rosie was funnin’ Josh right back.

Josh saw that and felt pretty good about it.  He had nudged Rosie out of his self pity.

Rosie looked right at Josh and said “Josh, you ever been laid?”

Josh replied “sho nuff, a whole bunch of times.”

“How many times?” asked Rosie

Josh repeated “a whole bunch of times”

“How many times?” Rosie repeated.

“Well, I already done told you a whole bunch of times.” repeated Josh

Rosie said “seems to me if this gettin’ laid is as good as you say it is, you would remember how many times.”

“OK” Josh said. “Once.”

They both laughed real hard.

“Hey, here come our squad leader, Cpl Greff.  He a good man. I sho’. do like him” said Josh.

“Yeah” Rosie said “an’ he French. Ah bet he been laid a whole bunch of times. Why don’t you ask him, Josh?”

“Ok, I will” replied Josh

“Corporal Greff, we got a talk goin’ on here about getting’ laid.  Rosie ain’t ever been laid and me only once.  How about you?”

Greff looked right at Josh and said “I have never been laid.”

Neither Rosie or Josh could believe that.

Rosie said “but you French, I thought you guys got laid all of the time.”

Greff looked at them both and said  ”Frenchman don’t get laid, we make love, and I have made love, wonderful love hundreds of times.”

Greff with a very French smirk on his face, then spun on his heel, and stalked away.

Rosie and Josh stood there for a second with jaws dropped, big eyes and kind of a dazed look on their faces. They didn’t know this makin’ love stuff from nuthin’.

Then Josh looked at Rosie and said “Rosie, he say hundreds of times, you suppose we should find out sumthin’ about this makin’ love stuff..  Must be whole bunch better ‘n gettin’ laid or he wouldn’t be doin’ it so much

“Fo sure” said Rosie “ but ah don’t know if am ready for this hundreds stuff, Josh.  Ah think ‘ah better take it a little easy, mebe just once to get the hang of it, before mebe’ somehthin’ happens”.

“Sho’ nuff’ said Josh “it aint right, a body getting’ kilt, before ya’ even get laid just onct..”

And then they put their arms around each other and laughed and laughed and danced a little jig in the trench.

GETTING THE HANG OF IT –The First Day

A  Story by Dave Freda

Based on my experiences during the first days

in combat in Korea

and my return home

fredadave@gmail.com

The conductor stopped and reached for my ticket.  “You’re Joe Smiths boy. ” Just getting back from Korea?”

“Yup, it sure is good to be going home.”

He shook my hand and warmly embraced me around the shoulders.

“Yeah, been reading some stuff about you. That was nasty war over there.  I read about some of your experiences in the local papers. You know like Baldy and Porkchop Hill.”

. He named those names like they were stops along the railroad.

“I hear that infantry lieutenants get killed pretty quickly when they first get into combat.  Everyone was worried about you. I’m glad to see you coming home safe and sound.”

He was trying to be friendly but that wasn’t where I wanted to be.  No sense reliving the war.  The confusion, the horror, the violence, the grimness of people dying and knowing that in the next instant it could be you was still vivid in my mind.  But right now I was just a kid eager to get home.

About half way there, the train stopped.  No station.  It just stopped.  The lights of a nearby diner were flashing in the night.   No artillery. No firefight here.  Just folks enjoying a good old hamburger and a couple bottles of beer or some other late night snack. I can’t wait until I get back to a little of that. A few minutes later, the conductor returned with a large bag. The train started again.

“OK we have coffee, hamburgers and apple pie for everyone.  Welcome back, son. We got some beer for you.”

“Hi Dave, you wanna’ ride or you gonna’ walk,” Clyde Multz, the only cab driver in town, said impassively.   He treated me as if I was returning from a vacation in New York City, but I knew that old reprobate was experiencing feelings a lot deeper than that.  He had always joked around with me while I was growing up, and had helped me get out of trouble more than once.

“ No. I think I’ll walk.”

I went past the bars and down the railroad track. A walk walked thousands of times.  I went over the bridge, past the cemetery, still as scary as ever but feeling different now.  Growing up, I had always imagined noises, fleeting images and had the feeling that someone was watching me when I walked by that cemetery late at night.   But tonight the spooks were benevolent.  The cemetery seemed to be sending good vibes. It seemed like my brother and sister who were buried there were saying — welcome home Dave.

It was two o’clock in the morning when I got home.  The lights were out.  Duke, our German Shepherd, didn’t even raise his head.  After three years he’d probably recognized my footsteps when I got off the train.  I went in the unlocked door, piled my stuff in the living room and went to my room. I stood at my bed and looked around.  Dead quiet. No incoming artillery or mortars here.  Nostalgia swept over me.  All the denials through the past years caught up with me.  I went back outside, sat down on the porch and wept.  Duke came over, licked my face consoling me.

That’s enough of this foolish tough guy image The symbolic flak jacket came back on.  I went upstairs to my room and fell asleep immediately.

“Give them a hot meal and dry socks.”

I was back in Control Post…  The night combat patrol was getting home. Were there casualties?  Food and dry socks may seem simplistic but they were important after a night in the freezing weather.

My sister poked her head in the door and called, “Welcome home! You need dry socks? Mom’s got breakfast ready for you?”

My father and mother were down in the kitchen.  They both hugged me.

My mother said, “Why didn’t you write more?  We worried a lot about you.   Fred was home on leave. He told us about flying you from Korea to Tokyo for Rest and Recuperation. I hope you had a good time.”

“You better not ask him about R&R, Mom” my sister Peg laughed. She knew that whatever I did in Tokyo was probably pretty wild.

My father said, “You’d better think about getting back into college.”

I wondered how he really felt.

“How about some cold milk, coffee, pancakes and sausage,” my mother said.

Milk was something I dreamed about during those long nights in Korea, and never knew  I would ever experience again. I was a farm boy, and powdered milk just did not cut the mustard.  Sweet corn was second on the want list, but this was November. I would have to wait until summer for that.

___________________________________________________________________

The train was headed north in Korea toward the front lines.  It was a puffing old steam engine pulling rickety passenger cars, and flat cars carrying tanks, artillery, trucks, jeeps, tankers, everything imaginable, billowing black smoke as it chugged its way north.  The passenger cars were stuffed full of GI’s from the United States and many other countries who were part of the United Nations mandate. South Korean soldiers and civilian workers were on the roofs and hanging onto every conceivable crevice, chewing on a red turnip-like vegetable as they went.  The jumble of languages was very Tower of Babelish.  We were getting close enough to see the flashes from artillery and air strikes in the night sky.

A grizzled old sergeant on his way back to the front after recovering from his wounds muttered “Jesus Christ, looka’ thar’, they knows wes’ comin’.  Look at that thar’ celebration goin’ on.  Jess’ laake the Fourth of Juuly.  Lieutenant git ready for the real thing.”

We were two infantry Lieutenants and a Capt, a surgeon in the Medical Corps, sitting together. Donnie Doe and I were barely nineteen and acting edgy.   There would be no more weekends in San Francisco for a while.  Marching bands and pretty girls, parties, drinking, wild sex and carousing were a distant memory. This was war.  The Captain, a surgeon and an amiable, humorous fellow with a huge handlebar mustache named Vimouz, was trying to take the edge off with some engaging dry humor.

Donnie and I had trained together through Officer Candidate School, Airborne and Ranger training.  We were good friends.  Comrades in arms.

______________________________________________________________________

I was raised on a farm in small town in upstate New York, one of eight children. I liked sports, music, reading, hunting, fishing and riding. I did a lot of whitewater canoeing.  I liked living on the edge from an early age

I could remember Pearl Harbor.  The priest offered prayers at Mass on that Sunday morning, December 7^th. As I came out of church situated on a hilltop, I was very young,  and when I looked down the valley, I expected the Japanese to start coming over the hills any minute. As I was walking home along the railroad tracks, I was shocked and excited to see soldiers on the railroad bridge walking back and forth.  How’d they get there that fast? I knew of no soldiers within 200 miles. And then I realized, they were probably dropped off by a troop train dispatching troops along the way to guard the critical points on the railroad. It was an important transportation route. Troop trains and freight trains with tanks, trucks, and jeeps were constantly moving from Chicago to the port at Jersey City on their way overseas.

The rapid change from a sleepy farm town to one in the middle of a war footing was mind boggling.  It seemed like everything was happening at once and there seemed to be danger and excitement everywhere. I was trying to walk home along the railroad tracks. Crossing that narrow railroad trestle instead of following the road would save me about a mile’s walk.  It was cold.  I watched the sentry walk toward me, stop, and turn to walk back across the bridge.

I thought to myself, “Should I ask him if I could walk along with him?”

A second thought and I decided not to.  He looked like he meant business and that rifle was at the ready.  I jumped into the snow and slid down the precipitous embankment to the road.

My father volunteered to man the local observation towers that were immediately set up to watch for enemy planes. I went with him.  At five years old that’s all I could do. There were no enemy planes within 3000 miles.  People stood watch every day, 24 hours day, and reported everything that flew. (Except the crows –or maybe even a crow once in a while.).  Emergency newscasts were constantly being broadcast over the radio.  There was no television then. The smell of war stood in the air.  It was blood-rushing excitement to me. My oldest brother Fred had been shot down flying supplies to the Chinese over the Himalayan hump. He walked through the jungles of Burma that were swarming with Japanese soldiers for thirty days. He managed to get to China, was rescued by the Nationalist Chinese and returned to his unit.  I remember the worried look on my mother’s face during that time. The fact that he was shot down and walked out and was back with his unit made Fred a hero to me. I was jealous. I loved the patriotism and the heroics, the war fever as it came over the radio.  It was my heritage. I had to be a part of it. My father was in the Army in WW I.  My mother’s family, early Scotch-Irish colonists, fought in every war since the Revolution.  I was ready to join up.

About year later, I decided to run away to Canada to join the Royal Air Force. I started hitchhiking. My first ride was with a truck driver headed for Montreal on the New York Thruway. I thought I had it made. When I told the driver what I was intending to do, he turned the truck around and brought me home. I never tried again.  Perhaps, because I got a gurl friend.  Her name was Mary Lou and she diverted my passion for quite a while.

____________________________________________________________________

The train stopped at the replacement depot.  The troops swarmed off the train like ants from an anthill. It was mid morning. There were hundreds of stretchers with wounded waiting to be loaded on the train for the trip south.

A sergeant passing by muttered, ”Old Baldy’s at it a’gin, suck up your gut Lieutenant wees’ in this up to our assholes”.

Not a great reception.  Donnie was sent immediately to fill a replacement slot.  I was sent up later that night.

Vimouz said goodbye to both of us with a wry, “See you soon.”

He was going to the regimental MASH, the front-line combat hospital.  No way I wanted to see him again.  Little did I know how soon it was going to be?

I got to my company at sunrise.  The night combat patrol was just getting back. They had casualties, wounded and dead.  Donnie was on a stretcher covered with a poncho. He was dead. I was assigned to the same platoon.

The next day the company was sent to retake an outpost called Old Baldy. The company commander, a tall lanky soft-spoken Texan named Cox, with a number of citations for bravery, spoke to me.  “We have to cross a minefield to get there.  You stay right behind me and step exactly in my footprints.  Your platoon will follow the same way”.

Old Baldy loomed in the distance, just a mass of debris and churned-up dirt and body parts.  It was a jungle of trenches with the enemy covering the approach area with fields of fire from machine guns…

It had changed hands a number of times.  The strategic or tactical reasoning was lost in the frustrating actions that were the Korean War. The hill would have to be taken in the trenches with close hand to hand-to-hand fighting, eyeball-to-eyeball. There was very little room to maneuver. No way to use the superior firepower or the technology of the Americans.  And the Chinese soldiers were veterans of years of war. They knew how to fight with the bare-knuckle essentials.  Cox started to move out amidst heavy artillery and mortar going both ways. Enemy machine gun fire was coming directly on us as we were advancing. The minefield left no room for fire and maneuver. It had to be crossed. Tanks and heavy armor had been used to clear a path but the danger of mines was still there.  The Chinese artillery, mortar fire and heavy machine-gun fire, was very effective. The Chinese were waiting in the trenches. They were catching hell from American artillery and air strikes in combat but they were not exposed. They would kill as many of the Americans as possible on the way in and then, as we got into the trenches, they would let a group through, cut them off from the main force and try to slaughter the trapped element.

Just as Capt Cox got through the minefield he was hit directly with an artillery shell. He seemed to disintegrate with a splash of body parts.  After 24 hours in combat for the first time in my life I was now leading the company until the other officers got through.  The incoming rounds were relentless.   The screech, the explosions, the wail of the aircraft in their bombing runs, the screams and cries of agony from wounded and dying soldiers amid the confusion and fog of violence stung me.   I had a split-second of fear and indecision.

______________________________________________________________________

A clear four-warble whistle. My mother was calling me.  Hanging by four fingers on a sheer rocky cliff I looked back.  My mother was standing in front of the house waving.  It was dinner time. The smell of apple pie drifted through my mind.    I started back down. Getting to the top could wait.

_______________________________________________________________________.

The advance elements moved from the valley to the hill and rushed the trenches.  I was filled with an adrenalin rush. I talked to my platoon sergeant, a rough gruff ex-boxer named Grole.  He was a Master Sergeant and a respected, almost revered guy in combat situations, but a private in and out of the guardhouse in peacetime back in the US.

Grole’s face was a caricature of a punchy boxer.  When he showed emotion he would cock his head, his cauliflower ear would show, and his face would twist in a demonic grin. His flattened nose looked like a clam.  His eyes were beady and they were focused on the tip of his nose.  When he spoke you were never sure what part of the face the sound was coming from. But, he had a shrewd intuitive mind, and was a natural leader with warrior instincts.  He could be both charming and disarming. He could kill in a heartbeat and would react in a heartbeat to save his men at the risk of his own life, and they knew it.

Grole said, “-Just move out. You are our leader. I’ll be right in back of you.  When we engage them we will figure out what to do next.  And Lieutenant, it will be eyeball-to-eyeball in those trenches.”

I crouched along the trench and just before I started to turn the first corner an enemy soldier leapt at me with rifle and bayonet fixed.  I froze.  Sgt. Grole jumped ahead, firing directly into the man’s face and then bayoneted him.  A second enemy soldier appeared. Grole hit him with a rifle butt.

He leaned against the trench and mumbled to me. “Ya’ gettin’ the idea? You take the next one.”

A head appeared just over the edge of the trench looking straight at me.  I raised my carbine and fired the magazine into the head. It instantly dissolved into blood, bone and brains, splattering both Grole and I.  Another head appeared.  I grabbed it and pulled the soldier into the trench and, with my gun empty, beat his head until he was motionless.

The bottoms of the trenches were covered with bodies and body parts.  Some American, some Chinese, some dead, some wounded, writhing in agony, moaning and crying for help.

As the young troops moved up, I could see their faces, their eyes wild, searching, glazed, the language of fear amidst enemy mortars shells and grenades, with heavy artillery falling like an avalanche of explosive rocks and boulders.  Machine gun and rifle fire screeched like swarms of angry hornets.  The deafening noise, confusion, the chaotic violence and agony, was the backdrop to a living hell.

Sgt. Grole and I were talking to two of the squad leaders, Corporals Draff and Meff.

I spoke directly to Draff.  “Draff, take your squad and rush the trenches as far as the chopper pad at the next trench intersection.” The company had used the pad when it held the hill last week. “We need that for a perimeter that will hold back the chinks until the rest of the company can get up here where they can do some good. That’s a massacre back there. Meff, go over the trench, take the machine gun squad with you and try to get some return fire on those Chinese machine gun emplacements.  Meet up with Draff at the chopper pad out and maybe we can secure a perimeter.  I’ll go with you. Sgt.  Grolle will go with Draff.”

Turning to my radio operator, I said, “Get a message to the battalion and tell them we are engaging the enemy close up and moving out, but the trenches are not secure.”

Draff and Meff were young..  Draff had spent his teen years fighting in the French underground during WWII.  Meff had been doing the same thing in Belgium.  They both joined the US Army after the war and ended up in Korea. Grole nodded in approval of what I was saying.  He knew these two men and they were good.  He also knew that if they didn’t clear an area – especially the chopper pad – to work in, everyone could die. He told them that our mortar and heavy weapons would be concentrated on the pad.

“Draff get yo’ ass in gear. When you get close to the pad we will stop or mortars and artillery.  Trap the Chinese in the trenches between you and Meff.  Keep the machine gun over the trench. Keep more Chinese from rushing you and cut down the ones who will flee the trenches if they git trapped.”

I looked at those guys again. I wanted to see aggressiveness.  It was there. Everyone knew there was no way out but to take it to the Chinks.

After a fierce but brief fight, the CP bunker at the helicopter pad was secured, a small, fragile perimeter. With the main force rushing through to move up the hill, Lt Col Jarvanian, the Battalion Commander, appeared and talked to Grole and me.

“Nice work, Lt Smith, we have a chance to move out a little now.”

“Thanks you, Sir” I said.

Jarvanian knew Sgt. Groler well and liked him.

He put his arm on Grole’ shoulder in a fatherly gesture and said.  “God, you’re ugly Sgt Grole.”

It was the last thing he ever said.  In that instant two enemy soldiers jumped out of a hole.  One bayoneted Jarvanian in the stomach and the other emptied his burp gun into Jarvanian‘s face. Grole fired his weapon at one, killing him instantly, and hit the other’s head with his rifle butt repeatedly until it was a pool of blood, skin and bone.  What was left of an eye floated on the surface.

Sgt Grole said, “Lieutenant, we were lucky — that could have been you or me.”

It was getting dark.  Grole and I searched for a bunker that could provide some protection for a night command post and serve as a last-ditch stand. Survivors might be able hold out until relief showed up.  In the darkness I sat in a corner trying to make radio contact.  It was now pitch black. Grole went out to check the perimeter.

Searing flashes and angry staccato of an automatic weapon shattered the darkness and silence. The smell of cordite permeated the air, grated painfully on the senses, tormented the brain like an open raw wound. The instantaneous sensation was  deafening, blinding, and an excruciating sensitivity of the skin.  Balls and asshole puckering painfully, my cock hardened into an immense erection in a masochistic metaphor. Primal fear, excruciating pain and impending death –  the ultimate erotic.   My heart was racing, lungs gasping fluids, filling the lungs as if drowning.   My belly erupting like a volcano of acidic bile, forcing it through the sphincter, into my esophagus, flooding my mouth with a vile taste and burning, suffocating as it poured into my nostrils.  My mind was racing at lightning speed – its life or death right now.  I hugged the floor in a corner, against the side of the bunker, shaking my head, blinking, clearing my eyes and ears from the dirt that splattered from the sandbags inches above me where the bullets hit. I don’t want to die. .I won’t die. I’m better than whatever is in this bunker with me.  Clear the body. Clear the mind.  The sound, the blinding flashes had disoriented me.  I couldn’t think.  I was very frightened. I was unable to orient myself.  Then gut-level survival instincts took over. Lightning-fast thoughts, I can’t see them. Can they see me?   I took refuge in the deafening quiet and deep sheltering, threatening darkness.

Faint sound of breathing, the smell of garlic, the tell-tale sign of a Chinese soldier, real close. Something brushed my boot.  Searing pain as a knife pierced my calf.  I lashed out with my knife and caught my assailant’s flesh somewhere.  Neither of us made a sound. I quickly rolled away trying desperately to hold my breath, remain silent and try to hear sounds, anything from the enemy.  Another stab grazed my throat.  I lashed out and caught firm flesh. It was followed by a loud moan and then silence again.  I reached my arm out tentatively, groping in the darkness.  It fell directly on the quilted jacket of the Chinese soldier.  I pulled him close and wrestled with him, trying to deal a death-blow with my knife. The Chinese soldier was desperately doing the same.  After a few minutes, exhausted, we broke away. I lay face down on the dirt floor in my own feces and blood. I vomited and heard my assailant vomiting. I kept my head on the floor in the shit, blood and vomit.   I wondered when I would die.

Light started trickling in. It was dawn.  I was on one side of a wall of sandbags.  I slowly moved up to look over the wall.  Just as I got to the top, the head of my Chinese adversary appeared.  We looked at each other. .For a brief second, we seemed to share a feeling of camaraderie.  He looked like a young kid. Then his head disappeared in a splash. Grole had burst in the door and emptied his carbine into the man’s face. “Let’s get going Lt; they’re crawling all over the place out here.”

In that split second, I caught a glimpse of a Chinese soldier swinging his rifle butt at my head.  Then an instant of intense pain and a kaleidoscopic explosion of colors.

__________________________________________________________________________

Huge trees, monstrous chunks of ice, boards, dead cattle and parts of buildings were caught up in the surge of water.  The spring thaw had come. The ice jams had broken. The Delaware River was raging. A red canoe with two young boys was caught in the flow, riding the white water with wild abandon.

My mother answered the phone. “Hello Mabel. My goodness the river is rampaging isn’t it? I can see it right out my window.”

It was a close friend, Mildred Ogle, who lived down river about five miles on the side of a hill with a direct view of the river.  “Grace, I don’t believe what I just saw.  I saw that wild son of yours and Ross Grabber in the middle of the river in a canoe moving downstream at a hundred miles an hour. Huge trees, houses, everything roaring down stream with them.”

My mother replied, “I think David has too much sense for that.”

After she hung up a worried look passed her over her face.  One of her daughters had drowned in the river.

This was a hardened woman, but “not another one,” she thought

Roaring through the whitewater Ross shouted, “Bet we’re the only people on the river!”

Pretty safe bet.  Downstream 25 miles or so, we paddled the canoe over to shore for the trip back home.  We pulled the canoe up a steep rocky bank to the railroad tracks and waited for the next freight train.  A couple passed us, and then the way freight came by.  This was the freight train that dropped off freight at local stops along the way, and the local people got to know them. The engineer saw us and slowed the train to a stop. We threw the canoe into an empty boxcar and climbed in. The train started moving again. My grandfather and father, immigrants from Italy, had worked on the tracks. Our relationship  with the railroad engineers was almost family.

The engineer stopped the train at my house, just a hundred yards away, waited until we got the canoe off, and then moved on.

“Where have you been and why are you bringing that canoe from the tracks instead of the river?”  asked my mother.

“Aw, Mom we just got the canoe off the river bank and out of the flood and walked it up the tracks.  River’s too wild to do anything,”

She seemed relieved and didn’t want to know any more.  This would have been trouble if my father knew.

Several weeks later, the engineers stopped by my home with wine and some ice cream.  They knew that it was meatballs and spaghetti night at our household.  My mother was sort of famous for that dish.

They greeted my mother,. “Just taking the chance that you might have some spaghetti and meatballs on the stove.”

My mother laughed, she knew it was payback time. “Yes we would love to have you for dinner.  My husband will be back soon.  He will like some of that wine. And so would I.”.

_____________________________________________________________________

I woke up in a MASH unit.  Capt Vimouz was leaning over me.

I said: “What happened?  Am I going home?”

“No, you’re going back to your unit..  You were hit with a rifle butt and got carved up a little. You were covered with dried shit, blood and vomit.  What the hell were you doing up there? You’re OK.  By the way, what happened to Donnie?”

“He was killed on his first night patrol’..

Vimouz shrugged and turned away. The hospital was full of wounded, with barrels of arms and legs in full view. I rested a while, and then I started to notice the pretty nurses who were caring for me.  Thank god, I thought, that blow to my head didn’t slow me down when it came to flirting with a pretty girl.  I dressed and was taken to the replacement depot and boarded a train that would take me back to the front. Still a puffy black old steam engine with the cars packed full of people and war equipment, but this was a much different train ride.  I knew where I was going.  I had started my first day as a cocky invincible warrior.  I was going back to my unit, back into that chaotic, violent hell, a much wiser man.

Rosie’s First Patrol

It was a hot dusty day in Wassat, Alabama, at the sharecroppers’ farm of Roosevelt (Rosie) Washington Brown’s family.  Rosie just seventeen years old, had lied about his age, and enlisted in the Army.  His brothers and sisters, all twelve of them and his mother and father were gathered to wish him luck and say goodbye.  His mother, tears in her eyes kissed him goodbye and thought to herself.  “Maybe Rosie would have a chance in this world.  He was a smart boy.  He didn’t need the specter of a lynching hanging over his head.”  His father hugged Rosie and said “You ain’t no sharecropper no’ mo’.”  You is a Uuunited States soldier. Yup a soldier, and I’m right proud of you.”

And it wasn’t easy.  He was still a nigger to the southerners in the outfit and he took a lot of shit.  He went to Basic Training and was then sent to Korea as a replacement.  He was assigned to the 50^th Infantry Division 2^nd Regiment.  This was brand new. Blacks fighting alongside whites.

The Regiment was on line across a sector in the center of the line that included outposts such as Old Baldy, Pork Chop, Erie and Arsenal and the Ice Cream Cone. An enemy controlled hill stretched across the middle of no man’s land and looked like a huge alligator.  Snook and Arsenal were two American outposts situated at the tip of the alligator jaws in very close proximity to the enemy position ns and were also facing Old Baldy and Porkchop Hill. These were flashpoints that erupted frequently in prolonged and violent firefights. They changed hands any number of times. Night patrolling was the major activity.  There were three types of basic patrolling, recon, contact and ambush.  The recon patrol was just that. Reconnoiter a sector and bring back whatever information that could be garnered.  The combat patrol was a unit probe to engage the enemy in a fire fight, and if possible, bring back a prisoner.  The ambush patrol was designed to engage and disrupt enemy activity in no man’s land.

Rosie had taken a train up the Korean Peninsula to a Replacement Depot.  From there, he was trucked to his unit on line along with a group of other soldiers.  When he got to his unit, he got off and helped load the truck with several body bags to take to the rear.  Rosie didn’t know what to say or do, but the realization that the body bags were filled with Americans killed in combat on patrol the night before frightened him.  He looked around.  He was just outside a Company Command Post.  It looked like a hole in the ground covered with sandbags.  A Sergeant started hollering in a loud voice was trying to get the new troops in line so they could be processed and assigned to a platoon and then a squad.  He was assigned to the first platoon Baker Company.

The Sergeants first comments were. “Welcome to Korea, we will do everything possible to make your stay a pleasant one.’

There was no response from the new recruits.  This was a Master Sergeant and no one wanted to mess with him.  His image was not a pleasant one.  He looked like one tough dude.

Then he snarled “If your lookin’ for security, I’m it/’

And then he laughed.  Nobody else did.

He started calling the roster and assigning them to squads.  The company was about one hundred and sixty men. The company was broken down into four platoons of forty men each when at full strength. Each squad of nine men was led by a sergeant or a senior corporal. His squad leader was Corporal Draff.  I was the Platoon Leader, Lieutenant Dave Smith.  I reported to the Company Commander Captain Joe Digereo Master Sergeant Bennie Grole was my platoon Sergeant and my right arm with the enlisted men.

Sgt Grole told the new men to line up behind their squad leaders and move out.  As they approached the main line of resistance,   Draff told his men to spread out crouch low and hurry into a series of trenches. Some outgoing mortar woooshed overhead toward the enemy lines.  Rosie dove for the dirt.

A soldier came out of the trenches and pulled him up.  “Don’t worry, buddy, that’s friendly.  You’ll get to know the difference real fast.’  “My name is Josh, I’m in your squad. I hope you know your welcome” he said with a grin.

He looked at him. Josh was black too. “We haven’t got much time. We are on a combat patrol and your going with us, so let’s get your gear stowed in a bunker and get saddled up. These things are all night dusk to dawn and it’s important to get out there and set up before the chinks have time to set up an ambush on us.  Sgt Grole will be down here kickin’ our ass real soon.  Don’t worry about him. He is the best damn Platoon Sergeant in the Army.  Corporal Graff is the best squad leader.”  Rosie felt good about that.

I walked up to Corporal Draff and spoke to him quietly. We were joined by Sergeant Grole and the other squad leaders.  We ducked into the platoon bunker to review our mission for the night.

“Combat patrol all night tonight. All those artillery and mortar rounds goin’ overhead and nobody payin’ much attention” thought Rosie.

“They wanna’ catch some prisoners.  I hope those other guys don’t catch me first”´ he said to himself.

He peered over the trench, nothing much out there.  He also knew that there probably a bunch of bad guys over on the hill that he could see in the distance getting ready to do the same thing.    He knew that he would be spending the night out there somewhere.  It was late afternoon and it was getting cold.  Some snowflakes started to fly.  He had never seen snow before.  He grew up and trained in the south.  Maybe a smidgen of snow once in a while.  He looked up at the sky.  The black clouds looked serious and it was getting colder by the minute. Josh was getting ready for the patrol.

He slapped Rosie on the back and said “ hey, git movin’.”

He told him how to prepare.  What to take, clothes, flak jacket, soft cap, ammunition, a bayonet, grenades and a shovel.  These were all the things that he had become familiar with during training, but this was a whole lot more worryin.”

He thought back home. His daddy never knew if he could feed the family. He never knew if the owner would let him sharecrop next year.  He never knew what would happen if anybody got bad sick.  They would die I reckon. He never knew when a gang of white covered men would ride up and string him up. He only knew that everything seemed hopeless but that he had to keep workin.’  Jus’ keep hopin’ something good would happen.

His momma just worked and worked and kept sayin’ things would get better cause’ they couldn’t get much worse. She kinda’ smiled when she said it.

He knew that too, but he wanted to dream about the good things. The trouble was he didn’t even know what they was.

Until the Army came along and maybe there’s a chance.  It seemed like the world got a whole bunch bigger mighty fast.

“I gotta’ find out how much bigger it can get.” he thought.

His first patrol was a combat patrol deep behind enemy lines.

“You’d a’ thought they would have given me an easy one to practice up on.  I guess there ain’t no more practice.  Time to git yo’ ass in gear, Roosevelt Washington Jones, this is the real thing and you is right in the middle of it.”

Several hours out our patrol was ambushed.  I was knocked down, lying face up by the side of the trail.  A figure straddled me and points a gun directly into my face.  It was an enemy soldier.

“Shoot you fuckin’son of a bitch shoot.”  I screamed.

I thought I was a dead man.

I saw the flashes from the muzzle close in to my face.  Could hear the gun fire.  I felt the bullets as they just knicked the side of my head.  His body fell on top of me.  I pushed him off.  I could see blood coming out of his mouth.  I could feel his blood on my face.

I could hear Rosie screaming “lawd a mighty, Sir.”

He leaned over and pulled me up.  He had emptied his rifle into the guy’s back just as he opened fire on me. It diverted the gunfire to the side of my head the split second the enemy soldier had fired.  He had saved my life. My head would have been blown away.

“Rosie, thanks.  Jesus Christ, that was close.  Where is the radio.  We need help and fast.”  I said.

“Green, the radio man is dead. Sgt Grole’s got the radio. He is talkin’ to Capt Digereo and he’s doin’ ah doin’ somethin’ ah somethin’ ah think  But sir, ah sure no fo’ sho we is in a pack a lot of trouble, real deep shit” replied Rosie.

I said “Rosie I owe you one. And Rosie we will take care of this.  We got nailed by an ambush.  We know what to do. ”

He felt better.

Rosie thought “ain’t no white man ever said thanks to me befo’.  And fo’ sure no white man ever said he owed me somthing.”

Sgt Grole came up behind him and kicked him in the ass.

“Hey you black motha fucka get yo’ ass in gear. Savin’ the Lt ain’t gonna’ make you no white man.  Get over thar’ and help fill that perimeter.  Sgt. Foley is dead.  Grenade. A ranger patrol is comin’ in to help.  Tell those guys not to shoot “em up when they try to come in.  And, hey Rosie, the captain is bringing artillery in real close, so stay down.

Sgt Grole surprised him  “First time ah met Sgt Grole.  I guess that’s the way he say hello. A boot in the ass.  It don’t make no never mind.  I got no mind to be white.  I jus’ wanna’ be a good black soldier, as good as I can be. And, ise’ gonna’ be, yes Sir Sgt Grole ise’ a gonna; be.  Po’Sgt Foley dead and ah never even met him.  Sho nuff’ real scared.  Ohh mamma. Pvt. Green, the radio man dead, Sgt Foley dead. Ah don’t know how many more.  Ah sure hope I don’t git to be one of them.’

I turned to Sgt Grole.  ‘You got a funny way to say well done.  That soldier has been with us less than 24 hrs and he is doin’ great.  Not to mention that he just saved my life.  You’re the platoon Sergeant and I respect you, but maybe you could lighten up a little.  The old timers understand you.  Maybe these new guys need a little time.  I don’t think that kid is seventeen years old yet.  But he was old enough to react in a split second and kill a man. That is the only reason why I am still talking to you.”

The next morning, standing back in the trenches, Sgt Grole approached me.

“this guy looks like he is scared to death all of the time but he ain’t scared of nuthin’. He seems to know what to do and he will wade into the thick of it.  Green is dead so Rosie’s your man Lt, runner, bodyguard, radio man, you name it. If you want him..  He’s already saved your life once and he stood tall with me in that patrol last night. Yes Sir, a mighty good man. That little bastard has balls, a great big pair of black balls.”

He was standing nearby with a big grin on his face.  He was mighty proud. He started thinking about Amos his mule back home. Rosie new for sure he had great big black balls. It made him right homesick.  Amos would pull and pull until he dropped. And sometimes I made him do that because we needed that crop to eat, sho’ nuff’.  But I sure grieved for him.  But Amos he always got up the next day and he would do it all over again.  Before Amos, Rufus was my mule. He and I was like brothers.  He would pull and pull jus’ like Amos until he dropped.  And then, jus’ like Amos, he would get up the next day and pull and pull agin’.  Only one day, Rufus jus’ laid there. Sho’ nuff pulled himself dead. I done made Rufus pull himself dead.  And I grieved.  Then I got Amos and you know what, Papa needed the crops so I made Amos pull, and pull and pull.  And I grieved, ‘cause I knowed what was gonna’ happen soona’ or lata’.

He turned and muttered to himself.  “Seems like it is jus’ lak’ that here.  Except I’se the mule.”

Death in the Trenches/Miracles at MASH-A novel- Second Fifty Pages – The Ice Cream Cone

The Ice Cream Cone

Josh was leaning against the trench trying to dig some frozen hot dogs and beans from a C ration can with his bayonet.  Rosie was a few feet away doing the same thing with a can of frozen sausages.  This was their breakfast.  Sgt Turner came by.  He stopped and looked at both of them.

“Welcome to The Ice Cream Cone and all the comforts of home”. He said

Neither looked up.

“What is going on here.  You guys are usually talking up a storm”

Neither looked up.

“Rosie, Josh did a fine job on that Baldy patrol.  Don’t you think” Sgt Turner

asked?

“Yeah, he think he such a big hero now, he don’t talk to me no’ mo’”

“Ah do to, Sgt Turner.  Rosie just mad at me ‘cause I got the last can of hot dogs and beans and he is eating greasy sausages”  Josh replied

“Tain’t true” Rosie said..

I was checking the outpost perimeter and overheard the conversation.  I had just returned from Battalion.  My platoon was new on this outpost.  It was called the Ice Cream Cone, and was to the far right of the division sector. It was over five hundred feet high.  My platoon was currently occupying the positions at the very top of the hill.  The sides of the hill were very steep and the trails down to the valley were hard to negotiate, especially in full combat gear.  It was a solitary hill separated by perhaps a mile from the American line on its left..  It was connected by a ridge that gradually led to the top of the hill.  A trail was cut along the back side of the ridge just low enough to let people move along it without exposing themselves to the enemy.  There were no cooking facilities. Hot food would be brought once daily along this trail to the troops manning the outpost.  The Chinese knew that. They constantly harassed the trails with mortar fire.  As a result much of the food was mixed with dirt. The Korean Service people who were carrying the food would dive to the ground when they heard the mortar rounds coming and often spilling the meals in the dirt.  C rations were the standard food supplement to the hot meal and in some cases the main course.  C rations came in individual packets with a variety of selections; beef stew, sausages, hot dogs and baked beans and many more.  They were normally warmed up prior to eating, but if that was not  possible, they were eaten cold right of  the can.  In really cold weather, that meant eating frozen food right out of the can.  There was always bickering about who got what meal and a lot of horse trading  to try to get a favorite delicacy.

“Hey you guys, I just got back from the rear.  I grabbed four cans of hot dogs and beans while I was back there.  They are in my satchel all nice and warm.  Why don’t you guys put those frozen goodies next to your belly and they will thaw out in a little while.  Each of you take a nice warm can and lets have a feast. All you guys are on this patrol tonight.  You deserve something a little special” I said.

Everyone gulped down the beans and franks and very quickly belched.  Rosie farted.

“Whooee” said Josh

Rosie looked over the trench it seemed straight down five hundred feet to the valley floor below.

“How do we get down there” he asked.

Josh looked over the trench too.

“Looks easy” he said “just jump”.

The Ice Cream Cone was one of the favorite departure points for American patrols. It was the division right flank and in military tactics the flanks were considered the most vulnerable to attack. The patrols provided current information with enemy activity to the front and to the right of us.   These patrols as they were leaving left a thick accumulation of telephone cables on the trails down into no mans land.  They were slippery all the time.  In the winter they were covered with ice.  The descent, grabbing a handful of wire and using it to slide down, was relatively easy.  The ascent was much more difficult. It was hand over hand up the slippery almost vertical slope.

“OK Josh you jump, the rest of us will catch up to you after we scramble down the belly of this baby” joked Sgt Turner.

It is an indignity to be ambushed when your mission is to ambush.  But it happens.  In the winter months during the Korean War, ambushes were hard duty.  To minimize the chances of being ambushed, patrols would leave at the fall of darkness, about six in the evening.  The reason was quite obvious.  Move out before the enemy could get to across the valley and set up a strong ambush position. It was very difficult to move across the valley without being detected in daylight.  The Americans were always ready with heavy artillery and air strikes.  It was pretty much the same situation for the Americans.  The enemy would observe activity in the valley very closely. As a result all ambush patrols on both sides would move out to their position at dusk and lay motionless in the snow and below freezing temperatures until just before dawn.  Many of these patrols were uneventful.  They would venture out into the darkness, set up, endue the bitter cold in the winter and return home.  But many of them were very effective in intercepting enemy patrols  and resulted in heavy fighting.  One way for the Chinese to counter the American daylight superiority was to position an ambush very close in to the American lines at night and let it remain hidden throughout the next day.  They would then be ready to surprise American patrols as they left the trenches.The Americans dominated the terrain in daylight.  Superior air power and artillery provided the dominance.   In addition, the terrain was such that the Americans occupied the high ground one side of the valley and the Chinese the other. The various patrols from both sides operated in the center of this arena.  This sector was a valley several miles wide and at least ten miles in length.  It was constantly an exercise in probing the opposite side, trying to catch the enemy unawares.  The purpose of the ambush was to disrupt.  Combat patrols were those that were intended to contact the enemy and engage in a firefight.  One primary purpose of a combat probe was to try to capture one or more of the enemy.  The resulting interrogations were a valuable source of information about the identification of the units, the command structure, the troop strength and location of enemy positions. Both sides engaged in these activities constantly.  It was a static situation, in which both sides were entrenched and felt the need to keep abreast of enemy strength, replacements, movement, position, aggressiveness, etc.  Each side was constantly looking for an opportunity to take advantage of a weakness or claim a particular outpost that provided a military advantage at any given time.  Each side was aware of the fact that if they did not stay in full readiness they could be surprised by an attack in strength

The Americans dominated the terrain in daylight.  Superior air power and artillery provided the dominance.   In addition, the terrain was such that the Americans occupied the high ground one side of the valley and the Chinese the other. The various patrols from both sides operated in the center of this arena.  This sector was a valley several miles wide and at least ten miles in length.  It was constantly an exercise in probing the opposite side, trying to catch the enemy unawares.  The purpose of the ambush was to disrupt.  Combat patrols were those that were intended to contact the enemy and engage in a firefight.  One primary purpose of a combat probe was to try to capture one or more of the enemy.  The resulting interrogations were a valuable source of information about the identification of the units, the command structure, the troop strength and location of enemy positions. Both sides engaged in these activities constantly.  It was a static situation, in which both sides were entrenched and felt the need to keep abreast of enemy strength, replacements, movement, position, aggressiveness, etc.  Each side was constantly looking for an opportunity to take advantage of a weakness or claim a particular outpost that provided a military advantage at any given time.  Each side was aware of the fact that if they did not stay in full readiness they could be surprised by an attack in strength

Capt Di Gereo,  Sgts Grole and Turner, and I were discussing the night’s ambush patrol.

Di Gereo was outlining the mission.

“We know the chinks are sending out small patrols very close to our lines, waiting overnight and then ambushing our patrols as we are leaving the trenches..  We have been pretty effective along most of the MLR at detecting and disrupting a lot of this.  The Ice Cream Cone is a different matter.  Your platoon, Dave, is the only troop strength we have on this hill.  The sides are so steep that it is almost impossible to keep troops positioned on them. We keep sentries at the base of the hill to try to pick up any enemy movement but area is so rocky and full of mounds and knolls it is not very effective”.

“Sir, we have a large ambush patrol set for tonight.  What do you want us to do?”  I asked.

“ The colonel wants you to run an ambush patrol and set up for the night.  In the early morning split your patrol and set up close in to the base of the hill.  Set up for the day and see what happens with the Chinese patrol activity into the next night.. It’s your baby, Dave”.

“Ok” I said and turned to Turner and Grole “lets get this thing rolling”.

Capt Di Gereo said “I’ll be your contact man up here on top, so include me in this little powwow.  You may need me to save your ass if the shit hits the fan”.

Grole started it off “Lt., lets send three or four good men out first.  They will be our point.  But if the chinks are waiting at the base of the hill they make think it is a small recon patrol and footprint it.

“That’s a good idea”  I said.  “who do you want to do that.  They gotta’ be good.”.

Sgt Turner spoke up  “let me take Sammy, Josh and Corporal Greff”.

I said “Ok, now, we will split the main patrol into two groups.  I will take one and Sergeant Grole you take the second.  We will stay as one unit until we come back about 0300 to set up the day ambushes at the base of the hill.  Turner, if things stay quiet, you set up somewhere out there and keep an eye out for anything going on during the day.  Do the same the next night until we tell you different. This sounds pretty good, but anything can happen.  That’s when we all must be right on the ball”.

Turner and Grole said “yes Sir, and turned to go”

“Just a moment” I said “I want a two man point patrol to go out 30 minutes after Turner.  That way, if the chinks do footprint him we have someone foot printing them and Turner, if a chink patrol comes in from the valley, let them pass if you can.  Don’t open fire unless your discovered.  Our two man point will open fire as soon as they see them and scurry back into the main body”.

Grole nodded in agreement.  It was a good idea to him in this cat and mouse game we were playing.

Grole laughed “whole lot of foot printing going on.  If the chinks are at the base of the hill, they will be foot printing us.  Turner, no way a’ tellin’ what’s gonna happen tonight, uh”.

“Yeah Bennie, even better than a poker game”  replied Turner

As we were walking away, Joe Di Gereo took my arm and said.

“Dave, lets talk a while. I think your going to get caught in a trap”.

“Yeah, Joe, but that is the way it is.  I think we can handle whatever comes at us, as long as I can count on you for artillery support.  What else can I think”.

Joe  laughed “but Dave, all the artillery in the world won’t help unless I can get it to you”.

“Your right, Joe, We might be caught so close in to the base of the hill that it will be very difficult to bring in artillery.  The side of the hill is so steep that the normal trajectory of artillery shell, fired from defilade, will either land harmlessly up the hillside or too far out in the valley..  The  Sixty mm mortars are little better, because they are fired with more arch in their trajectory. They are still to risky. The shells could just as well land on our patrol, or on our troops on the top of the hill”.

“This is all just a lot of talk right now.  We seem to have done everything we can.  Let’s just go out and see what happens” replied Joe.

He stuck out his hand and said “good luck, Dave”.

Turner and his four man advance scout patrol started down the side of the Ice Cream Cone at about 18:00, it was just approaching darkness.  It was going to be a dark cloudy night.  That was good for us.  A light snow was falling.  The temperature was below zero and falling.  The wind was blowing lightly in gusts  that swirled the snow round and round.  It was a beautiful Korean night in the middle of January.

I moved over to Grole “equip the next two point men lightly and pick someone with some agility.  I would like to get them down and out in the valley without being detected, assuming we have Chinese friends down there waiting for us”.

“Yes Sir’ said Grole “and I am going to send them down a different trail.  Turner sounds like a railroad engine going down his trail.  We will probably sound like the whole god damned army”.

I laughed at Grole’s humor.  He was a good man to have around in times like this.

The two point men left at 18:30.  We started our patrol down at 19:00.

We were assembling at the base of the hill about 20:00.  The Patrol was strung out in two groups of fifteen.  One hundred yards out we heard firing from our point men.They had made  contact and were coming back into the patrol.  Grole and I had just started forming a perimeter when we were attacked by a large group of enemy soldiers.  They had penetrated our perimeter and it was hand to hand fighting.  They had let us get inside their U shaped ambush.  We were being attacked from three sides when another enemy group that had been waiting at the foot of the hill attacked us from the rear.  We were heavily in contact with the enemy on all sides.

“Sgt Grole, lets get a perimeter as tight as we can.  They will try to overrun us as quickly as possible, try to take some prisoners and ski dadle”

Sgt Grole had been hit in the head and wasbleedingfrom the face.

“Yes Sir”, he said , turned and started shouting at his squad leaders “Get your squads in tight, bring your dead and wounded to the middle of the perimeter.  Draff get those machine guns massed and force these guys back as much as you can. Grenades, grenades grenades.  There a’ comin’ and a’ goin’, but just keep throwing them. We have pushed them out of our perimeter so hang in tight and try not to let them get in again”.

This was sheer bedlam.  Everything was moving super fast and super violently.  Everything seemed instantaneous.  Reflexes were raw and reactions were split second.  Emotions were non existent. Vision was a blur.  Recognition was instinctive. The noise was horrific: shots, explosions , gun fire, the screaming of the wounded as bodies were pierced with knives, bullets. shrapnel, shovels; the heavy thuds of metal against flesh and bone; the blood curling gurgle of men drowning in their own blood, suffering, screaming in intense pain, dying.

Fifty caliber machine guns started pouring down from the top of the cone striking the rear elements of the Chinese patrol and moving slowly closer and closer to us.  It was Di Gereo.

I got on the horn “hey Joe, are you saving our asses or what”?

“Just your friendly Company Commander coming to the rescue. You owe me a bottle of Scotch”  replied Joe.

‘But how” I asked

“Turner is back there. Happy as a clam directing our fire.  But now it’s your turn” replied Di Gereo.

“How so” I asked

“It will get closer and closer to you. You will have to direct us when Turner can’t do it any longer”  Digereo said

“I will be very happy to. The outer Chinese patrol is starting to break up already” I replied.

‘You and I, we ain’t such dumb meatballs after all, are we”

“Bunch of chinks are starting to think about it. I would think”  I said.

“Turner is out there calling in artillery on those chinks bugging out.  .” Di Gereo said.

I said” Ok Joe, , we have dead and wounded and these Chinese guys with their backs to their walls at the base of the hill are fighting like a bunch of banshees.  What do you want me to do”?

Joe came back with “Keep them trapped if you can. Punish them.  Try to get as many prisoners as you can.  What are your casualties”?

“We have dead and wounded. I’m not sure how many.  We have two missing ‘Grole and Rosie’, we also have six Chinese prisoners, four are wounded, two will probably not make it”

“Ok. Keep the bunch pinned against the hill if you can.  I want as many prisoners as I can get”

I came back with “Capt Di Gereo, we are pretty well shot up.  I don’t know how much more we can do”.

“Lt Smith,. I want you to maintain contact with the Chinese unit pinned against the hill and keep me informed”

“Yes Sir” I replied  “we will need help getting the dead and wounded up the hill.  And we need more medics.  The enemy unit against the hill is pretty well finished.  Just some sporadic firing.  We are moving in to see what has happened”.

Di Gereo came back with “ we will be moving down the hill as quickly as possible”.

I started to cautiously move into the area of the enemy patrol.  Draff was with me. It was strewn with dead and wounded.  They paid a heavy price to trap us.  One figure rose from the ground and pointed his burp gun at me.  I hit him square in the chest with a burst from my carbine.  He dropped.  At the same instant I caught a glimpse of another figure swinging a rifle butt at me and the beginning of a burst from Draff’s Thompson sub machine gun..  I felt an instant of screaming pain and then an abrupt closing in of complete darkness.

POW’s

“Law’d a’.mighty, Sgt Grole this guys too big for me to handle.  Help me.  Help me” Rosie screamed!!!

Rosie had tackled an enemy soldier and was trying to wrestle him to the ground.  He wanted to get a prisoner.  Grole jumped in and tried to help.  In the same instant five Chinese soldiers jumped on Rosie and Grole.  They had the same idea in mind.  They wanted to take Rosie and Grole as prisoners.

In  an instant,  both Rosie and Grole were bound, blindfolded, gagged and jerked along with a group of enemy soldiers returning to their lines. The group stopped when they had cleared the heavy fighting.  They started to take the blindfold off  Grole and Rosie.  It was to hard to get them to run if they could not see.

At that instant, Turner and his patrol caught the Chinese by complete surprise and  killed them with their bayonets.  They dragged Rosie and Grole into the depression where they had been concealed.

Rosie’s eyes were wild.  Grole’s were angry.

Tuner talked quietly to both men before removing the gags and taking off the bindings on their hands.

“Listen guys.  Your safe.  We are hiding and directing fire on the Chinese patrol.  There are Chinese all around us, so when we release the gag and bindings, don’t move and don’t say anything.  OK”.

Both Grole and Rosie nodded.

Limouz……Again!!!!!

One eye open and what do I see?  A big handlebar mustache and a toothy grin.

“That’s Limouz again” I thought.

“What are you doing here”?  I asked.

My head throbbed with intense pain. I didn’t know where I was or why.  I  knew that Limouz was a surgeon at MASH.  I had previously been taken to MASH when I had been wounded on Old Baldy.

“You don’t realize it yet, but you are paying me a little visit, courtesy of  a traumatic blow to the head and bayonet stab in the chest..  And I’m really quite honored”  Major  Limouz, the Chief Surgeon at MASH, said very politely.

“Why am I seeing through one eye” I asked.

“The other side of you face is extremely swollen and currently displays a kaleidoscopic combination of colors and hues.  Would you like to take a look, but do not try to raise your head.  It would be very painful”.  Limouz replied soothingly.

“What happened”  I asked.

“It is much the same as we last saw each other, when they brought you in from Baldy, with the addition of a nasty bayonet wound in your shoulder”  he replied

A nurse held a mirror in front of my face.  I looked. It was shocking.

“Will I be blind in that eye. Will my face be disfigured” I asked.

The nurse responded “your going to be fine.  We will be taking a lot of tests.  It will give you a chance for a few days rest here in the MASH and then you will be going back to The Ice Cream Cone”.

Limouz had left.  This was a busy place.

“My shoulder hurts like hell” I said.

“That is a nasty wound, but you were lucky, the knife passed through your body, inches from your heart and did no bone, muscle or cartilage damage.  It is a miracle”.  She said  “But it is healing very, very quickly.  You will need a sling for a while. It will be sore for a while, but it will be as good as new”

I wondered “is she telling me the truth or is she just stroking me”.

“My arm and wrist is very sore and it won’t move” I said

“Yes, your arm was lightly sliced from the elbow to the wrist by a bayonet.  Your arm is restrained.  Compared to your other wounds it is pretty superficial”

“What else is wrong with me” I asked?

“That is about it.  Now lie back and rest.  I’ll be back in a little while to give you medication and clean you up a bit”

“How long have I been here” I asked

“Three days, in a coma” she said.

I was speechless.

“What is your name” I asked

“ I am Lieutenant Grace Henderson,  Army Nurse Corp.  You can call me Grace, Lieutenant”

“I would like you to call me Dave.  Would that be OK”  I said

“Ok, your Dave and I’m Grace for the rest of your stay”  she laughed.

“How about after that” I asked.

She really laughed at that.

“It’s been a while since I heard a woman’s laugh” I thought

And I broke down and cried.

Grace heard as she was walking away and came back and stood next to me for a while.

I thought “I wonder if she could know what I was thinking”.

I hope so.  I quieted down.

Captain Di Gereo stopped by the next morning.

He shook my good hand “how are you doing, Dave”.

“I don’t know” I said “I just woke up yesterday afternoon.  How did the patrol go.  Any sign of Grole or Rosie”.

Your patrol was a big success.  Rosie an Grole were captured by the Chinese, but on their way back to enemy lines they got close to Turner and his guys in their hole in the ground…They surprised the chinese escort,  killed them quickly and quietly with their bayonets and dragged Rosie and Grole back into their hole.  Josh is strutting around telling everyone who will listen, how he rescued Rosie.  It’s quite a story.  I’m told you will be back in a week, tendays.  It’s hard to believe that, looking at you.

“It will be good to get back Joe”  I lied

“Hey, who was that blonde nurse I saw you talking to”  Asked Di Gereo?

“Oh, that’s Lieutenant Grace Henderson”  she supervises my care.

“Oh, yeah, if you didn’t look so terrible, I would think that you might be malingering”  joked Di Gereo.

Joe and I laughed.  We talked a while.  Mostly about baseball.  I was a Yankee fan, he was a Red Sox Fan.  We started to argue pretty heavily. It was the Babe Ruth, Joe Di Maggio Ted Williams all over again.

Major Limouz  stopped by and said “ I’m sorry Capt Di Gereo, I know you guys are just having fun,  but Lieutenant Smith is one sick dude.  He needs to get some rest”.

Joe got up and said ”I’ll try to get back in a day or so. Things are quite up on the line.”.

He took a long look at Grace on the way out.

I wondered “who is he really coming back to see”?

Limouz was watching and smiling.

“What do we have here.  A budding romance”  he asked.

“I think so Henri.  It’s pretty bad when your company commander enters the competition”  I said.

“Enjoy it while you can.  You will be going back to join him in a few days. You doing very well.  We will get you walking today.”

“Any sight from that right eye yet”?

“It is opening a little.  Everything looks surrealistic., but I do have vision.  But it still hurts like hell.  So does my shoulder”.

“OK, lover boy.  Take it easy with the nurses”.  Laughed Henri.

Joe Di Gereo stopped by the next day.  Captain Abe White, my former company commander, was with him.  He was now working in G 2 Intelligence at regiment.

We shook hands and chatted a bit.

Abe came right to the point  “My Intelligence and Reconnaissance  (I&R} platoon took some casualties a few days ago.  Lt Harrison was badly wounded and is on his way back to the states. The Colonel wants to get it back up and running as quickly as possible. I would like to have you take over.  I have talked to Joe and he is willing to let you go.  Some of your guys will come along with you; Sergeants Grole and Turner, Corporals Draff and Greff and Private’s Rosie Jones. Josh Wexler and Sammy Green”

“I would like the job”. I said,  ‘but that is six people out of Capt Di Gereo’s company.  How do you feel about that, Joe”?

“Captain White has the Colonel’s clout in back of him.  What can I say”?

After they left I thought “I’ll be back at Regiment.  Pretty close to the MASH.  Maybe I can get to see Grace once in a while.

Grace

“Grace, where are you going dressed like that at this time of night” asked her mother.

“Out” Grace said and slammed the door as she left the house

“Grace Henderson, you come right back here this minute.  You hear me”.

“Ok Mom”  Grace sullenly turned and came back into the house.

“Mom,  you know we just graduated from high school and there are a lot of parties going on”

“My gosh”  said her mother “you look absolutely beautiful.  Dad, I want you to come in here and take a look at your daughter”.

“Dynamite”!!  shouted her father  “you look smashing.  Get out there and have a great time.  Your headed for nursing school in a week and that will be hard work.  So enjoy”!

Grace laughed and waved “see you in the morning”.

Mom and Dad waved back and then looked at each other, and both mumbled “did she really mean in the morning”.

“Boys, boys, boys, some things never change” said her father.

“You should know”  laughed her mother.

This was nineteen forty seven.  The Second World War had ended two years earlierand it was tough for a young girl to get into college.  The GI Bill was puttingthousands of male WW II veterans through college and it was very profitable for the universties to court them.  Sally’s family did not have a lot of money, so Grace was going to Misericordia ospital in New York City for a three year course in nurses training.  Her home wasLyndhurst, NJ, so she was closeto home and could enjoy New York City and the comforts of home while she was training.  She would be a Registered Nurse when she finished and she knew that she wanted to join the Army Nurse Corps when she graduated.  She loved nursing and wanted to see thewold.  She was eager to get on with it.

She graduated in Nineteen Fifty and she immediately joined the Army Nurse Corps.  The army trained her as a surgical assistant and then shipped her to Korea.  There was a lot of surgery going on there.  It was the Korean War.  When she arrived in Korea she was assigned to a MASH unit on the front line.  Life was hectic and very stressful.  She seemed to use everything that she had learned every day and constantly learned more.  There were many, many badly wounded soldiers who had to be treated quickly and then dispersed to the various permanent hospitals that were set up in Korea and Japan, sent back to the states, or just returned to combat.   Many men died while she was treating them and it was a very traumatic experience.  Most of these soldiers were young kids just a few months from home.  She was shocked at the number of operations that would be going on when there was action on the line.  It seemed never ending and she never looked at the barrels of arms legs and body parts that accumulated during those times.

She tried not to become attached to anyone and that included the doctors.  Life and death became inseparable in her mind.  Her emotions were dulled by the experience.  She worked hard and long because she felt that these men needed whatever she could do for them very desperately.

She really liked working for the new Chief of Surgery, Major Henri Limouz.  He was a jolly fellow who laughed a lot and always seemed upbeat in the traums surrounding him.  He took Grace under his wing and tried to get her tolighten up.

“Hey, how about having a date with one of these young doctors” he told her the first day they met.

Sally replied “maybe”.

On his first day a young Lieutenant was bought into the MASH,  He had suffered a traumatic blow to the head and was unconscious.  He had been on Old Baldy.

Limouz was shocked.  It was one of the men that he had ridden to the front with the day before.  His name was Dave Smith and there was really a question as to whether he was dead or alive.  Limouz took very special care of him.  They had become friends on the train trip up to the front.  Sally tried to do a little extra for Smith.  He was so young. Limouz also found out that another second young Lieutenant who had been on the same train, Don Doe, had been killed his first night on a patrol.  Smith finally regained consciousness and started to recover quite quickly.  Grace really liked him.  He tried to flirt with her but he couldn’t get it together.  He was hurting too badly.. He was sent back to Baldy the next day as soon as he could walk.  The fighting on Old Baldy was fierce and he was needed with his platoon. This was the first guy that she felt he had a chemistry with and he was gone.  She felt quite sad.

Limouz was disturbed by the incidents.

“Death strikes fast at new infantry second lieutenants in combat” he told Grace. “that’s a dangerous business.  Just yesterday they were both kidding around with me.  Today, twenty four hours later, Coe is dead, Smith is hurt and lucky to be alive”.

Grace cried.

Piece of Cake, Lt

“Hey Benny, we got a piece a cake, take a patrol up on Baldy and get those spread eagled American bodies.”

“Aw shit, Lieutenant Smith.” snarled Sgt Benny Grole.  “Ain’t that great.  The whole fuckin’ Chinese Army is waiting for some stupid assholes like us to try to do that.

“I suppose you gonna’ pick the next full moon so everyone can watch us. Lieutenant, we are all gonna’ die on that fuckin’ pile of dirt and body parts.  You remember the last time?  We damned near got skinned alive.”

“Sgt Grole, you could get the Distinguished Service Cross for this.” I replied.

‘I got two of them fuckin’ things and they still bust me to Private and send me to the guardhouse every time I get back to the states.”

‘Nobody realized what a nice boy you are.  You wanna’ go along.”

“You ain’t goin’ without me.”

“Thanks a lot Bennie.  Let’s go take a look.  At least it ain’t  Porkchop.  And ya’ know what?  I will even get the searchlights turned off on the way up”

Sgt Grole just groaned.

“But not on the way down” I said

Sgt Grole just rolled his eyes and said “aw’  shit”

“Aw shit” Donnie rolled his eyes, as he watched my belt buckle come undone my pants slip down, and my cock  snap to attention.

Barbara giggled ‘My my o’ my Davy boy you sure are ready for the big show.”

She started playfully rubbing and stroking.

Samantha looked down and said “Wooee,  Dave my boy, there must be something down on the farm that really works”

Donnie was standing there watching.  He looked pretty jealous and annoyed.  Barbara snuggled up and kissed him on the ear and then moved slowly to his mouth.  They kissed very erotically.  The onlookers murmured in approval.

Samantha looked up and laughed “OK Donnie, are you ready for your audition”?

He laughed and said ”You ain’t seen nothing yet”.

Grole and I stood in the trenches 300 feet higher and about a half mile away from the top of Old baldy where the three captured American GI’s were killed and spread eagled in full view of thousands of American GI’s manning the MLR {main line of resistance} trenches.  It was a tough scene.  The memories of the combat on Old Baldy were vivid in mind  We had just been kicked off by the Chinese and we were trying to retake it.  The operation failed and it remained in Chinese hands.

Sgt Grole was a good man.  He knew small unit tactics well. He also knew that with a mission as dangerous as this, the men must be the best most experienced possible. He and I talked about how to get it done. Who would be the best people to bring along.  How to get up and down.  The key was to get up the hill through the concertina wire and enemy positions with no noise and getting no attention.  American searchlights would normally be illuminating the hill.  They would be turned off or directed at locations away from our patrol to give us a chance to get up the hill, get the GI’s in body bags and get back down the hill.

“Ok, six men, including us”  I said.

We were sitting on the ground back at the regimental CP.

“Sgt Grole, Captain White will give us anyone in the regiment.  The Colonels orders”

“Lets dance with the guys who brung us.  Who would you want”  Grole said

“Greff, Dreff, Rosie and Sammy”  I answered.

“Let’s see” said Grole “they would all have to volunteer”.

“Ok, I said lets talk to each one”  I said.

Graff and Sammy said yes.  Greff was hesitant.  Rosie said he would go.

I talked to Captain White.  He said “you guys are now the Intelligence and Reconnaissance Platoon for the 32nd Regiment.  You are supposed to be the best of the best in this sort of thing.  I talked to ops at the Regiment.  You have chosen six of the best best of the best for a mission that is considered at the highest risk, he says pull back Rosie and Greff.  We have another patrol coming up tomorrow.  We need people for that.  Dave this is one tough mission.  It’s really crazy, but every Compant commander on the Line of Resistance that has men looking down at Baldy with their fellow GI’s spread eagled in plain view wants something done.  Your it and the best of luck.

Rosie really wanted to go.  But he was happy when I told him that he could be the radio man back on the MLR.  He knew how important that was.

He said “ Ok , Lt, but Josh really wants to go.  He ain’t really been on a big one. Do you think you could take him”?

Grole said  “Josh is a good choice”

I nodded.

Rosie rushed off and yelled, “Josh, you got your big one.  But if you fuck it up I’se gonna cut your balls off”.

“I ain’t gonna fuck up. Don’t worry.  Just don’t go to sleep on that radio or I’ll cut yo’ balls off”  doubling Rosie over with a punch to the gut, and then bounding off with a banshee yell.

Greff and Draff were inseparable.  Draff relished the mission.  Greff knew that this was dangerous.  He wanted to be with Draff  – live or die – but he was just plain scared.  He couldn’t tell anyone.  He had to work his way through it.  That was the army in Korea. No help for combat fatigue. Talk about it and your branded a coward-a section eight.  He also knew that this was the army, not the free lance resistance in WW II,  so follow orders.  In this case, the army was giving him a break.  He was a bright guy, he would work his way through it!

Master Sergeant Roger Turner,  the assistant platoon leader came up to me.

“Lt’ I really want to go.  I got five years fightin’.  New Guinea.. Guadalcanal.. Phillipines.  Okinawa. Chosin Reservoir. You name it.  I kinda’ figure I have really pushed my luck.   But getting’ those guys down is really worth somethin’ to me.  Can I go?”

I turned to Grole.  He grinned and nodded yes.  He knew Turner from way back.

“Turner, you owe me any poker money”?

Turner laughed and said “ yeah a few bucks”.

Grole laughed “$500 right?  Save it to the end of the patrol.  And if I don’t get back, shoot craps with it double or nuthin’.  If you don’t get back I’ll do the same thing”.

Turner ran off as if he just had won a lottery at Las Vegas.

“I hope the Colonel will let him go.  He is your replacement if anything happens, but you know what, I would love to have him.  I will fight for it”  I said to Grole.

“What is it with these guys”? I wondered “why so eager to risk their lives?

Grole knew what I was thinking and with his most distorted facial expression and a twinkle in his eye and with the voice seemingly coming from his left ear said    “piece of cake. Lt”

That night, our patrol rode across no man’s land in an Armored Personal Carrier to the outpost Arsenal.

Milking and feeding the cows, feeding the horses and the hogs, shoveling the manure, putting fresh hay and sawdust on the floor.  Then a big breakfast and walk a mile or so to school.

I thought of those cold winter  mornings  sludging through the snow, fighting the wind, toward the barn.

I grew up on a small farm. We were a large family.  We were not poor. My father was a high school teacher. The farm was not big by any standard, but it provided food: milk, meat, vegetables, fruits, for the long winter months.  He needed the farm to help feed his family. And he loved farming.  Not so me.  I knew that I had to be somewhere else the day after graduating from High School. Well, I’m somewhere else.  I guess you really never know what your asking for.

“We gotta’ get out of here.” whispered Grole.

I was still vomiting.

We did not know if they had seen us or not but we moved quickly to get down the hill. The trip down was sheer bedlam.  We had been discovered.  We would have to fight our way down through a maze of enemy soldiers. The fact that we were a small cohesive unit was to our advantage.  Having to maneuver with three heavy body bags was a disadvantage. The Chinese were shooting at every thing that moved and thankfully that included many of their fellow soldiers.  It was simultaneous screaming, explosions, shooting and hand to hand fighting.  About halfway down I called for artillery on the hill and had the searchlight turned on everywhere. It created confusion with the Chinese.

Three Chinese soldiers appeared directly in front of us. They seemed dazed. They were close enough to seize. One was quickly killed by a burst from a carbine.

I shouted “take them prisoner.”

Corporal Draff tackled one of the Chinese.  They were grappling on the ground.  Several GI’s went in to help.  He was quickly bound. The third enemy soldier had been killed with a bayonet. We  continued down the hill with our prisoner and the body bags..

A few minutes later we got back to the Arseenal outpost

Tommy came over and greeted him in Chinese with a big smile.  He also pointed to the smaller prisoner who had been there for a while.  An American soldier had wrapped a piece of wire around the man’s neck and held the ends so that  he could tighten it at any moment.

Our guy quieted down right away.. He sat on some sandbags and waited, with two American GI’s standing next to him.

Sgt Grole looked at the the size of  the prisoner being questioned and then at our man..

“Lieutenant, I been telling you, they always save the big guys for us.”

Tommy came up to me as I was leaving.

He put his arm around me and said “one of those guys you brought down tonight was one of my best friends.  I will write the family. They will appreciate what you have done.  I know that most of what you guys do is taken for granted.  I want to thank you for a doing a tremendously courageous thing ”

I choked up and said “thanks a lot Tommy”

On the way out to the Armored Personal Carrier and home, we could hear the faint sound of what was, as we later found out, the American troops on the hills. They could see with the searchlights that the bodies were gone.  I was still retching.

“Piece of cake” Grole said grimly as he loaded the last body bag into the vehicle.

MASH Romance

Captain White shook my hand “you and your guys have earned a few days off.  We won’t be calling on your platoon for any patrols for the next few days. You deserve something for taking that patrol up Old Baldy to get those bodies. I will make a jeep available for you just in case you want to get your old wounds checked out at MASH.  I have put all of you in for the Bronze Star.  I hope it goes through”.

“Thanks a lot, Sir, especially for the jeep.  I think I will get my eyes checked out” I replied.

“Yes, Lieutenant Grace Henderson called me today.  She had heard about your trip up Baldy and wanted to know how you were.  Perhaps you should stop in and say “hello” Capt White said with a hearty laugh.

“Yeah, I guess I should.  I don’t want the poor girl worrying about me” I replied with a big grin on my face.

“Hey lover boy, why are you so nervous” I thought to myself.

I was waiting at the little bar at MASH.  A sergeant was tending bar.  There were two medical guys and a nurse sitting with me at the bar.  The tables were empty.  The juke box was playing Louis Armstrong singing ‘Gone Fishin’.

“Pretty appropriate” I thought.

I looked at the medical guys.  Doctors.  Clean as a whistle.  I looked at myself in the mirror.  The scars were still visible on my face.  The scent of decayed flesh still lingered in my nostril. When I smiled, it looked like the two sides of my face were unhooked.  One the good old me.  The other – pretty distorted.  I was jumpy as hell.  The door slammed.  I jumped up and turned to face the noise in a lunge position. It was Henri Limouz.

“I surrender” he  yelled.

I sat back down on the stool and started to cry.

Henri put his arm around my shoulder and said “lets walk a bit. Hey, what’s a guy like you crying for” he said.

“It’s just an allergy”  I said

“Well. I see the best allergy medicine in the world walking down the path”  Henri replied.

It was Grace.  I really started weeping.

“Hey” she said putting her arm around me “we have a weeping wall about ten miles down the road”.

“Yeah”  joked Henri  “lets try a bottle of scotch before we get started”.

We all sat down for  few minutes.  My inclination was to just leave.  This was too embarrassing. Grace sensed that.

Grace pulled at me “ come on lets get a drink.  I have a lot to talk to you about.  The first thing I want to tell you is that I am in love with you.”

“Aw shit” I said

Henri smiled and said “Dave, I didn’t know how romantic you were.  You are one smooth cookie”.

We all laughed.  It straightened me up.

Henri stood up and said “ I just remembered there is a lobotomy I must prep for”.

He walked down the path waving and smiling.

I took Grace by the hand and said ”I’m sorry”.

“Sorry for what” and she gave me a long hard kiss.

“Aw shit”  I repeated.

“You have an absolutely fantastic line you know.  Any girl would fall for it”.

“Aw shit”  I repeated.

“But somehow we must get past the first line” she joked.  “Come on lets get movin’ Davy boy.  Times a’ wastin’”.

“OK”, I said “lets get it on.  Lock and load”.

“Whoopee,” yelled Grace. And she put one arm around me, grabbed the other on out front and we jitterbugged right into the bar.

“That’s just a little more like it” she said and she kissed me again.

As we finished kissing, she put one finger over my lips and said “lets not have another ‘Aw Shit’ tonight. OK”.

I laughed, stood up, pulled her up and we kissed passionately for a long, long time.

The bartender tapped me on the shoulder ”anytime you two want to come up for air, the drinks are on the house.  You’re the guy who took that patrol up Baldy.  If I could, I would give you the whole damn house”.

“Cheers, cheers, cheers”  came from the chorus at the bar.

A couple of nurses came over to kiss me.

“Take it easy, take it easy, this guy is mine” Grace laughed.

“I wish we were in San Francisco and could dance the night away”  I told Grace.

“We are here and we are together.  What else counts” she replied

“Grace, I live for the moment.  Is there any place that we an go to be alone”.

“Well, it so happens that Major Limouz has a free recovery room open for a few hours.  Would you like to check it out”?

“Show me the way” I said

The room was small but nice.  It had the essentials.  A bed.  We were in each others arms just kind of nuzzling.  There was a knock on the door.  It was Limouz.

“I’m sorry Grace. We have a large number of badly wounded coming in..  I need you and the recovery room now”!!

Ain’t no Fun no mo’

“Hey, Rosie,  this ain’t no fun no more.  First that patrol off The Ice Cream Cone and then that trip back up Ole’ Baldy.  Does the Lieutenant think were gonna’ win this war all by ourselves?  We could get killed doin’ this kind of stuff, ya’ know”

“Your’ too ugly to get kilt”  replied Rosie.

“I am not.  Nobody is gonna’ live forever.  Even me.” said Josh

“I hope so” Rosie replied.

“Hey Rosie, now,  you know I saved your life when you was captured.  Now, when are you gonna’ save mine’.

“Next time I get a chance” said Rosie.

“When” replied Josh?

“As soon as I get back from R&R”

“Oh, ain’t that somethin’”

“Just don’t get kilt before I git back, OK Josh”  replied Rosie

“Why”

“Because then, how could  I save your ass”  laughed Rosie

“Your just too much”  replied Josh.

“Here comes Sergeant Grole.  You think he likes our black asses?  We better start talking and  acting whitey”  asked Josh’?

“Well,  he shore nuff’ likes to kick em’” Rosie said.

Josh just laughed and laughed.

“Well, Rosie, he still shore enough a good guy though, right”

“Right”

“I got a latrine to be cleaned and two tooth brushes, you guys interested” asked Grole? “Just funnin’ of course

Rosie said “ you ain’t gitting human on us are you. Sgt Grole.  I mean funnin’ and that kind of stuff”?

“No, The Lieutenant said we got three days off.  No patrols before Friday, OK”

“Hey Rosie, what we gonna’ do with three days off”.

“Let’s go to the PX at Division and git some beer.  We can hitch a ride with one of these cowboys running courier trips”

“Sounds good to me”

Sgt. Grole said “there ain’t no PX at Division and no beer neither”.

“Shucks”  said Josh. “Hey, Sgt Grole.  I done hear that the Lieutenant ‘s got a gurl friend”.

“MaybeS so”  replied Grole.

“Well, I’m pretty excited ‘bout that.  You know what she’s like, Sgt.Grole”  asked Josh.

“Doggone” said Rosie  “finding a gurl friend right here in Korea in the middle of a war.  How’d he ever do anything like that”?

Sgt Grole replied “Lieutenant Smith met a nurse at MASH when he was recovering from his wounds.  She is a nurse, blonde and very pretty.  She is a lieutenant too”.

“So that is why Lieutenant got all banged up” quipped Josh  “Cause he was lonely and wanted a gurl friend.  Maybe  we should do that.  What do you think, Rosie”?

“Come on Josh, don’t be stupid”  laughed Rosie.

“Hey,  Sgt Grole do you think we could find a couple of cans a beer somehow somewhere” Josh asked.

“Hey Sgt Grole. they got any black nurses over at MASH”  asked Rosie

Josh got real interested in that question “Why you askin’ that, Rosie?”

“MASH has some black women working there.  Don’t rightly know if they are nurses or not”  Grole replied. “ you guys know that nurses are officers, don’t you.”

“I was just kinda’ wonderin’” said Rosie

“You got me kinda’ wonderin’ too” said Josh. “I ain’t never been laid by no officer. I sure thought an officer had to be a man.  Sure do learn things fast around here”.

“Any black woman would do”  said Rosie. “Josh you is just dumb”.

“Yeah, dumb enough to save your black ass.  You already done told me you ain’t ever been laid.  What would you do with a woman” Asked Josh?

Sgt Grole turned to go “maybe I could round up a couple of beers.  How would that be”?

“Rather have a woman, but beer would be mighty nice tastin’” replied Josh.

“Gimmee a little time.  Meanwhile you guys just take it easy.  Days off in this business are hard to come by and so is a cold beer in this neck o’ the woods.  It’s against regulation you know.”  said Sgt Grole as he turned to go.

Sgt.  Grole went into the Regimental CP to visit with an old friend.  It was  Jim Calhoun, the Regimental Sergent Major.  Grole knew that if anyone coul get some beer the Sergent Major could.

Sergeant Calhoun stuck out his hand and shook Sergeant Grole’s hand warmly.  “You grizzled old bastard you still have some tricks up your sleeve.  That Baldy caper was one hell of a  piece of work.  I’m off duty, come on over to my quarters and maybe I can find a couple of cold beers”.

“Gettin’ to sound better all the time”  said Grole.

They sat down at a table and started to sip on their beers. Grole was mellow.  Everything seemed kind a’ good to him.

Sergeant Calhoun noticed this and remarked  “Bennie, I know you still have that ole’ piss and vinegar,  but I ain’t never seen you so laid back”.

“Gitten’ captured made a big difference in my life, Jim.  When they blind folded and hog tied me and had me running back to China, I thought the first chance I get ’ gonna kill myself.  Bein’ captured is a real nightmare to me.  I would rather be dead.”

“Rog Turner saved your ass.  It’s good to have the old guys from WW II around, they always pop up at the right time”  Jim Calhoun said.  “how is this Lieutenant Dave Smith.  You must know him pretty well by now”?

“Better’n most”  Grole replied  “not as stupid as most officers.  Got a lot of guts.  Treats me and his men pretty fairly.  Doesn’t seem to fear much.  Doesn’t rattle easy.  Always seems to get us in the middle of a lot of action.  Jim, tell you the truth, I kinda’ like him”.

““I hear he is wrapped around the axle with that pretty nurse,  Sally Henderson, over at Mash’,  Jim Calhoun laughed,  lot of officers around here have tried with her.  She seems pretty careful.  This guy Smith must show her something”.

“I guess so”  said Bennie.

“Hey Jim,  My guys got a few days rest because of the patrol on Old Baldy, they been at it pretty hard considering that Ice Cream Cone Ambush”

“OK, Bennie, what can I do for you”?

“Well, they would like a couple of cans of beer to kind of celebrate, you know”.

“Bennie, you know that is strictly off the regs”

“Ok, just thought I would ask”.

“Ok, here is the way it is.  I’m gonna’ let you steal two cases of beer from my locker.  You got fifteen guys, right?

“Yeah”

“Let them have the beer, but as soon as anybody gets rowdy, I’m gonna’ tell the MP’s to throw them in the Regimental stockade until their three days off  are up. Bennie, you got that”?

“I got it. I’ll probably be there with them”

“Your may be there for stealin’ my beer.  Gotta’ cover myself.” laughed Jim Calhoun.

“And Bennie, no beer left over, right.  And only your guys. Bring back what’s leftover.”

“Right!” answered Bennie.

“Bennie, don’t worry, there will be no charges.  I’ll make sure Lt Colonel Moore knows.  He is the  Regimental S 2.  He has a friend of mine working for him that handles disciplinary actions, so if anything happens, he will take care of it.

R&R

Rosie turned the corner of the trench talking and smiling to himself.

“Bam Bam thank you mam” he kept saying. 

As he turned the corner he ran right into me.

“What did you say, Rosie” I asked?

“Bam bam thank you mam”  he repeated.

“Hey, Rosie what is going on with you and this bam bam thank you mam stuff”

“Lieutenant Smith, that’s what Sergeant Grole told me when I asked him what I should do with that Japanese girl that I’m going to meet in Tokyo on R&R”.

“Rosie, did you ever have a girlfriend”  I asked.

“Girlfriend, what’s that? Got my Mama and my sisters but I ain’t known any other girl, except my sister’s friend and she always scared me.  Lookin’ funny at me and giglin’ and talkin’ all the time.  I’d always run away and go talk to my mule Amos.  He don’t talk none, but he bite and he kick and I heard that’s what yo’ gotta’ watch out for with these girls”.

“Well Rosie, the Japanese girls don’t speak much English, but they don’t kick and they don’t bite.  Your gonna’ find out that they’re real nice”.

“But Sir, I’m bashful, I’m ugly, I’m black, I talk funny, I’m a nigger and will I git lynched if I try to be real nice to them girls.  There almost white ya’ know”.

“Take it easy Rosie.  There is no lynching in Tokyo. What do you mean when you say real nice”?

“Well’ Lieutenant, you know what I mean.  Bam bam thank you mam jus’ like Sergeant Grole said”.

“Rosie, just relax.  What do you think bam bam thank you mam means”?

“Why it means kissin’ an’ I ain’t never done that before except for my Mama and maybe my mule Amos, but I’m sure hankerin’ for a girl before I get too old or somethin’ happens to me”.

“Well Rosie, all you gotta’ do is wait for a nice Japanese girl to look at you and smile a little.  That’s when you by her a glass of Sake and be real nice to her.  You will be surprised and very happy at what will happen”.

“Will it be good”  he asked?

“It will be good, Rosie, and just forget that bam bam thank you mam stuff. You won’t need it.  Things are gonna’ be just fine,  real nice and easy fine.  I guarantee it’s gonna’ be a lot better than your mule Amos. You’ll be dead center in the middle of more hankerin’ than you can handle”.

“Well, that’s gonna be something, yes siree Sir.  Ah hope I don’t get killed before I go.  I got that patrol tonight, Sir”

“Rosie, you go tell Sergeant Grole that I said you are needed in the CP bunker tonight with me.  He can get a replacement.  You tell him that you gotta’ get ready for that bam bam thank you mam he was talkin’ about.  I think he will know what you mean”.

“OK,” he said “but you just told me to forget about that bam bam thank you mam stuff, Sir”.

Rosie left for R& R in a truck loaded with GI’s headed the same way.  Josh was there to see him go.

“Doggone” thought Josh, “I bet Rosie is the only virgin in that bunch.  He the only man I know who could spend the night in a whorehouse and not get laid.  I do believe.”

They would stop at Seoul, get a shower, some clean uniforms, get paid and be boarded on a Military Air Transport flight to Tokyo for two weeks Rest and Recuperation.  Excitement was in the air.  This was a big deal.   The air transport was loaded with over three hundred GI’s and they were a pretty raucous crowd.   They couldn’t get to Tokyo fast enough.  There was a lot of bravado going on.  The huffing and puffing of the woman hungry male.  It had been six months since these guys had been close to a woman and they were ready.  Every individual had his own idea of how to spend his leave, but on the top of every list was a woman, and there were a lot of woman in Tokyo just waiting for another batch of GI’ with a couple months pay and looking for a good time.

Rosie was sitting in an outdoor café in Tokyo sipping on a glass of Saki.  He would have rather had a beer but he was afraid that Japanese girls wouldn’t like him if he drank beer.  He didn’t know that the Japanese had great beers.  He just knew that that thing between his legs kept growin’ and growin’ every time a pretty Japanese girl walked by.  The street was crowded.  It was full of American GI.s, American service women and many, many very pretty Japanese girls.  He liked the way the Japanese girls looked and acted.  A Japanese girl stopped quite near his table and started fidgeting with her purse.  She looked at him and smiled.

He took a deep breath and said “Would you like some Saki”?  Just the way Lt Smith had told him to.

The girl said “yes, I would love to” and she sat down at the table with him.

He was shocked.

“What should  he do next” .  he thought.

He ordered a Saki for the girl and another for himself.

He was getting drunk.

He said ”My name is Rosie, what is you name”?

“My name is Dankasan.  You drink a lot of Saki?  You come home with me. I make a Japanese dinner for you.  You will feel better”.

He liked that idea.  He paid his bill in Japanese money with the help of Dankasan.  They both got up and walked the short distance to where Dankasan lived.  He had to take off his shoes before he entered,  The rooms seemed to be made of paper.  There were no chairs.  He sat on the floor.

Dankasan came in the room and said to him “come we take bath first”.

She took him by the hand and led him to the room with the bath.  The water was steaming.  It was hot.  Dankasan took off her clothes and got into the water.  She motioned to him to do the same.  He was kind of embarrassed but he took off his clothes and climbed into the water with Dankasan.  This was new to him and he had a huge hard on as he sat down.  Dankasan saw that and laughed.  She caressed him with the water and at her urging he did the same with her.

“This is really something” he tho ught.

After a while they got out of the water.  Donkason put on a robe and gave one to Rosie.  They laid down on a soft mat and started caressing and kissing each other.  He could wait no longer.  He rolled over on Donkason and they started making very tender love.  When they finished, he rolled over and went to sleep.  Donkason lay propped up on one arm looking lovingly at him and listening to his deep sleep and passionate moans.  She was very happy.

Very suddenly he started sobbing uncontrollably ….he was previewing his own death , he  grabbed at his throat.

Donkasan kept crying “Rosie wassa’ matta’…wassa’ matta’”??

“Get away from me..get away from me” he sobbed.

Donkason frightened, thinks to herself as she looks at his face, trying to comfort him “I don’t know..how could I know?..  I don’t want to know”!

Rosie’s Obit

Roosevelt Washington Jones, know in the Army as Rosie and by his mother and father as  Roosevelt Washington and by his brothers and sisters as Rooster, was killed in action on the 10th day of February, 1951 at ten AM in the morning. He was leaning against the trench telling Lt Smith about R&R in Tokyo. The day was quiet, just a few rounds coming in – not close enough to bother. He was talking about his Japanese girl friend, Donkason.  He was in love and wanted to marry her.  He told the Lt.. Yassa, “I sure found out what Sgt Droll meant when he said’ Bam bam, thank you mam”‘.. “Donkasan, she kept sayin’ Rosiesan, you hassa’ lotta’ lead in your pencil”.

In that instant a Frisbee like stray piece of shrapnel hit him in the unprotected throat and severed his head. He fell to the ground.  His headless body pulsing blood, fluids and pieces of lung over Lt Smith who had dropped to the bottom of the trench. Lt Smith opened his eyes to look directly at his lifeless eyes staring at him from the severed head a few inches away.

He was two days shy of his eighteenth birthday and one week shy of rotating home. He was born on  the 12th of February, Lincoln’s birthday, in the year 1935, in the town Wasat, Alabama, the thirteenth and last child born to Hussy and Lincoln Jones. He worked on the farm sharecropped by his family and was a good boy. He did his own schooling. First learning to read in the outhouse where he studied the Sears Roebuck and Montgomery Ward catalogs. Then by reading scraps of books and letters he found in the town garbage dump. He got to know which white folk would throw away what.  He treasured the torn pages of someone with the funny name of Shakespeare.  They were thrown away by Miss Rosenstock, the English teacher, when she got drunk and had a conniption. She was also very pretty. He often wondered how it would be to actually talk to someone like that. He was even afraid to look at her. He learned to write by studying some of her handwritten papers. At first, he didn’t really know what they said, but her writing sure did sound nice when he actually got to be able to read it.  Some of it made him feel kind of funny; words about love he guessed, but he didn’t have any idea about what love was. He did know that that thing between his legs would grow and grow sometimes when he thought maybe he knew what she was talking about. He hid when that happened and sometimes he had to do something about it.  He never told nobody. He didn’t know if he should be doin’ it but it felt real good so he kept right on. One day his sister’s friend saw him and her eyes got real big. So did his thing. He ran away. He was kind of scared. Hoped she didn’t tell. He knew he would find a woman to show him what to do. Maybe that girl was laughing at him. Maybe his dong wasn’t big enough. When it got real big it was almost as big as his mule, ’s He found out a while later in Tokyo that that was plenty big enough.

His best friend was his mule Amos. He was surprised when he joined the Army that there were no mules. He missed Amos a lot, but he learned a whole bunch in the Army. He thought that maybe he would have a chance to be somebody someday. Some of those southern soldiers weren’t’ nice to him but beein’ called a nigger and treated real bad was nothing new to him.

He got good food, clothes and he was always hangin’ around folk that kind of interested him. He kept listenin’ to what they called bullshit. He didn’t know from nothin’ but he knew there was some pretty tall stories and a lot of lyin’ goin’ on. He would laugh and laugh just ’cause it felt good, and that was a mighty nice feelin’ – feelin’ good.  Never did get to do much of that back home. Sometimes he would laugh when there was nothing to laugh at. and everybody would look kind of funny at him. He didn’t care much ’cause it sure felt good to him.

Korea, was somethin’ real different. He was really scared. Saw two body bags loaded on the truck that brought him and the other replacements up front. The first man he met was Master Sgt Benny Droll and the first thing he thought of was those black bears back in Alabama. But he got to like him, but he was careful to stay out of his way as much as he could. Lt Smith was a real tough but real kind guy. He figured he would get a fair shake from him. He felt real good when he got to be the Lt’s bodyguard. He served with distinction. He was awarded the Purple Heart, twice, the Bronze star. the Silver Star, and the Distinguished Service Cross, posthumously, for bravery and gallantry in action. When he was killed, the entire company passed by his body and said something to him. That was the only time that that ever happened in that company. He fought and died a hero. And he died with something he really wanted. To be somebody and he was somebody in death that he always wanted to be in life. They took up a collection and sent it to his family so that part of it could be used for a gravestone with the inscription.

Rosie died as he dreamed

Rosie went home….in a body bag

Rosie went home with many decorations

With the respect of his fellow soldiers

Rosie was something in death

That he had never been in life

A hero

He brought the horror of war

The dignity of the warrior to life

He was somebody

He had also experienced for the first time

What it was like to be treated as an equal

As a black man among whites

He had also experienced the tenderness

of a woman’s love

for the first and only time in his life

Only to die before he could savor

War is not a forgiving business

It has no patience with youth

Except to deflower as gun fodder

Sgt Bennie Grole

It was a hot Oklahoma day, late in the day and shade was tough to find.  I met Sallie Mae, my pretty little thing, outside the candy store.  I was sixteen and she was fourteen goin’ on fifteen..  We were a hot number.  We had been going together for nigh on to six months.  A lot of huggin’ and kissin’ and a little feelin’ but nuthin’ much else.

I sure hankered to do somethin’ else and I think she did too.

We sauntered down to the watering hole, holding hands and kissin’ just like we always did.  The watering hole was pretty empty by the time we got there and the last two left just before we started to think about getting into the water.  It was nigh on to dark so we looked at each other, we both knew, just a little skinny dipping would be a whole bunch of fun. Well we both got carried away and first thing we knew we were makin’ love.  I mean hot and heavy love. When it was over we felt real good.  We got dressed and went home.  We both had trouble walkin’.  What with our knees buckling under us.

We did a lot of that from then on until one day Sallie Mae said she was pregnant.  She said that her father knew and he was mad enough to lynch me.  She told me to get out of town, make a little money, and come back when it was quieter.  She would be waiting for me.

I grabbed the first freight train out of town going west.  It stopped for water in a town called Las Vegas. I jumped off the train.  I ain’t never heard of it but it was really somethin’.  Bright lights, pretty girls, everything all day, all night, never stopped.

I was hungry.  I had no money.  I thought of stealing,  but then I thought about getting put in jail in a brand new town.  There must be jobs in a busy place like this.  I went to the biggest hotel I could see and asked about a job in the kitchen, washin’ dishes.  That would get me pretty close to some food and I sure was hungry.  Maybe they would let me eat the scraps.  The man put me right to work.  I thought it was really nice.  There was food and a place to stay until my first payday. And a whole lot of pretty girls around.

One day, goin’ to work this slick, greasy funny dressed fellow came up to me and asked if I knew anything about boxing.  I told him I did a lot of fighting back home.  I told him about the wrestling and kicking and punching.  I told him that I hit a couple of guys with one punch and they laid like they was dead for quite a while, until somebody poured water over their heads.

The man said “No, no, I mean boxing with your fists with gloves by the rules in a ring”.

I said “No Sir”.

Well, he took me to a gym where everyone was in these square rings poking away at each other with their fists that were covered with gloves.  He put some gloves on my hands and called over a smooth lookin’ guy who looked like he was used to doin’ this stuff.

We got into the funny lookin’ ring and we started dancin’ around pokin’ our fists at each other.  I thought it was kind of funny waving these gloves around like that.  All of a sudden, on no account at all, this guy in the ring with me, I thought he was bein’ real friendly like, got real close to me and punched me real hard a couple of times.  Why, it knocked me flat on my back and I had a funny feelin’ in my head.  Well, I got real mad.  I got up and the next time he got close I hit him as hard as I could.  Well, he went down flat on his back and didn’t move a muscle.  I wondered what happened.  They took him away on a stretcher real quick like.

The greasy lookin’ fellow with the funny clothes came up to me and said “Do you wanna’ fight tomorrow night.  I’ll pay you ten dollars if you win and five dollars if you lose”

Well, that was a lot of money to me so I said “Yes.”

The next night, there was a whole bunch of hoop la al la and people and bands and a bunch of fighter getting their fists taped up. They had towels and stuff over their heads.  The would get up and jump around and shadow box.  That’s what they called it.  Swingin’ their arms and their fists in all kinds of ways as if they were hitting someone.

Well, I finally got in the ring with this great big guy who could dance around like ah never seed before.  It was kinda’ fun watchin’ him.  All of a sudden, he got up real close and hit me real hard a couple of times right in the head.  He knocked me down and everything was spinning.  I could hear the crowd yellin’.  They sure liked that.  Me bein’ knocked down on my ass and the whole world spinnin’ like crazy.  Well. I got real mad.  I got up and waited until this great big dude got real close and the I hit him in the head as hard as I could.  He went down and didn’t move a muscle.  And the crowd, they went plumb crazy,  yellin’ and screamin’ and stompin’. And the band it was playin’ real loud marchin’ music.  I remember that.  They took that great big fella’ away on a stretcher real quick like.

This real greasy fella’ gave me eight dollars.  I asked him about the other two dollars and he said that was his percentage.  But he didn’t wait around much.  He hurried off.  I guess that was in case I got mad.  I thought it was Ok.  Eight dollars was a lot of money to me. I didn’t know what a percentage was, except that it cost two bucks.

From then on, I was a regular fighter.  I did a lot of training, running, working out, all that kind of stuff. These funny lookin’ guys in funny clothes told me that I would have to sign a contract.  After that, they said they owned me.

They put me in a lot of fights and I kept winning and making a lot of money.  I was happy.  I could gamble and all the pretty girls just loved me.  Once in a while, I thought about Sallie Mae.  Wondered how she was doin’.  I even sent her some money once or twice.

After a while, I was told by these funny lookin’ guys dressed in funny suits when to win and when to lose.  I didn’t like that much but the money was still good.  Losing was not a lot of fun, because there were time when I had to take a lot of punishment and be careful how hard I fought back.  Then these funny lookin’ guys in the funny suits decided I should win a long streak of fights in a row.  That felt real good.  I didn’t think about the fact that maybe these fights were fixed.

I was told that my next fight would be for the Championship of my division.  The Heavyweight Division. The champion was a great fighter. We were kinda’ friends. He had been the Champion or a long time. But I knew I could beat him.  Just before the fight I was told that I was to lose. That I had to throw the fight.

I have never seen all the stuff that went on around that fight.  Seemed like there was a celebration, a band and a lot of hoopin’ and hollerin’ – everywhere.

Well, when I finally got into the ring, I was scared and nervous, but that went away as soon as I got hit a couple of times.  About the fifth round, he started hitting me low, right in the balls.  I doubled overand he hit me real hard a couple of times.  I went down for the eight count.

I struggled to get up.  I tried to protect myself as he came at me hard.  I recovered in a minute or two.  I hit him real hard, he went down.  He looked surprised when he got up.  He knew that I was supposed to throw that fight.  I forgot all about that.  I pinned him against the ropes while he was still woozy and hit him as hard as I could as often as I could.  He went down motionless.  I knew he was dead.  My trainer pulled me out of the ring.  He gave me fifty bucks and some clothes and told me to ski daddle.

I bugged out and caught a freight train goin’ by. It ended up in Los Angeles.  Got  some odd jobs and gambled a bit.  Some fella’ gave me a stacked deck of cards.  I thought that was great..  The first time I tried to use them, one of the players caught on.  He tipped over the table in my face and lunged at me.  I stopped him in mid air with a solid right hook.  He fell to the floor.  They tried to revive him but he had no pulse.  He was dead.  The cops arrested me and put me in jail with a murder one charge.  The judge was sitting up high on his bench in a long black robe.  He looked like he was one strict dude.

I thought to myself. “Here I go.  I’m goin’ to the chair or spend the rest of my life in prison.”

It was December 1941.  The Japs had just attacked Pear Harbor.  We were at war with Germany and Japan.  It saved my life.  The judge listened to the charges.  The District Attorney asked for the death penalty.  My lawyer, he didn’t say much at all, except that the dude I killed was a bad guy.  An ex con.

The judge looked up at me and said. “You like to fight, well the Army needs fighters, so it’s either the Army or life behind bars.”

I couldn’t believe it.  I said “The Army, Sir”.

The judge replied. ”You never had much of a chance in life, son. This may be the only one you will ever get.  So stand tall, salute, say yes sir and be a good soldier. I hope the army straightens you out.  You’re a fighter that’s for sure.  I hope you can do it the army way.  Be careful who you hit with that right arm.  Make sure it’s an enemy soldier.  And stay away from stacked decks and shaved dice when you gamble or you will be right back here.”

The court clerk said “This defendant is barely seventeen years old.  He is too young for the Army. They will not accept him.”

The Judge replied” If he is old enough to be sent to prison for life, he is old enough to join the Army.  Send him to an Army recruiter, if he has a problem, tell him to get in touch with me.”

I loved the army.  I loved basic training.  I heard a lot of bitchin’ but never felt that way about it.  I saluted everyone and said Yes Sir to everybody just like the Judge said.  My buddies always made fun of me for doin’ it, but they weren’t facin’ lifetime in jail.  This was real security for me.  The army gave me food, clothes and a place to sleep. I never knew that kind of life before.  The discipline was real tough. I wasn’t used to that either. I took pretty much whatever they dished out.  I always remembered what the Judge said about life imprisonment.

Duke Sheridan was my best friend in basic training.  He got there pretty much the same way as me.  He was born and raised in poverty in West Texas. He stole a car when he was sixteen and tried to rob a bank.  He screwed up the robbery and got no money.  But he did shoot and wound a guard in the process.  He was arrested and the Judge gave him the same choice as me.  Either join the army or spend a long, long time in jail.  Pearl Harbor saved him too.

We were both assigned to the same division in Hawaii after basic training.  We were lucky to end up in the same platoon. Hawaii was a lot different than those sunburned days in Oklahoma.  And whoee!! Those pretty, pretty girls prancing around with those skimpy clothes.

We had very little time to enjoy anything. The Division was shipped to Australia and then the rotten, steaming, snake infested, buggy jungles of New Guinea.  The Japanese held a strong foothold in New Guinea and they were on their way to Australia.  These Japanese soldiers had been fighting for years.  They were damn good in the jungles.  We were as green as the jungles and scared shitless.  The sounds and noises of the jungles drove us crazy at first.  The Japanese knew how to use that against us.  They would mix in their own scary sounds. But we learned.  We had no choice.  It was either learn or die.

At first the Americans justgot hit hard until we learned how to fight a war.  Duke and I stayed real close.  It was good to have a friend you could trust.  One night on a two man patrol we were overrun by the Japanese.  In the confusion, I killed my best friend Duke.  I nearly went crazy, they just kept pushingme into more and more combat.  We were undermanned and there was no chance to rest.

After New guinea, we moved from Island to Island.  I was in the Philippines and then on up to Okinawa.   After that the war ended. I  was sent back to the States.  I stayed in the Army because there was no place else for me.  The  Army was my family.

I was an Airborne Ranger with a lot of combat experience, so they sent me to Fort Benning, Georgia to train troops.  I was always in trouble; women, alcohol, gambling, and fighting.  I was demoted to buck private and ended up in the stockade for starting a brawl with the whole bar in  Phoenix, Mississippi.

When the Korean war started my old company commander, who was now a Battalion commander came over to visit me in the stockade.

He said “Bennie, we have been friends for years.  The Division is shipping out to Korea.  I want you to come along.  You will get your Master Sergeant Stripes back and we will get you a platoon.  Now what do you think’?

“Git me outa’ here colonel.  I will be the best damn Platoon sergeant in your battalion.  You know that”.

“Ok” said the Colonel “we will process your orders and you will be shipped directly to Tokyo.  From there you will join the battalion in Korea.  We are headed north and no one knows what will happen when we get close to the Yalu river.

“Sir, I sure want to be there to find out”

Rosie’s First Patrol

It was a hot dusty day in Wassat, Alabama, at the sharecroppers’ farm of Roosevelt (Rosie) Washington Brown’s family. Rosie just seventeen years old, had lied about his age, and enlisted in the Army. His brothers and sisters, all twelve of them and his mother and father were gathered to wish him luck and say goodbye. His mother, tears in her eyes kissed him goodbye and thought to herself. “Maybe Rosie would have a chance in this world. He was a smart boy. He didn’t need the specter of a lynching hanging over his head.” His father hugged Rosie and said “You ain’t no sharecropper no’ mo’.” You is a Uuunited States soldier. Yup a soldier, and I’m right proud of you.”

And it wasn’t easy. He was still a nigger to the southerners in the outfit and he took a lot of shit. He went to Basic Training and was then sent to Korea as a replacement. He was assigned to the 50^th Infantry Division 2^nd Regiment. This was brand new. Blacks fighting alongside whites.

The Regiment was on line across a sector in the center of the line that included outposts such as Old Baldy, Pork Chop, Erie and Arsenal and the Ice Cream Cone. An enemy controlled hill stretched across the middle of no man’s land and looked like a huge alligator. Snook and Arsenal were two American outposts situated at the tip of the alligator jaws in very close proximity to the enemy position ns and were also facing Old Baldy and Porkchop Hill. These were flashpoints that erupted frequently in prolonged and violent firefights. They changed hands any number of times. Night patrolling was the major activity. There were three types of basic patrolling, recon, contact and ambush. The recon patrol was just that. Reconnoiter a sector and bring back whatever information that could be garnered. The combat patrol was a unit probe to engage the enemy in a fire fight, and if possible, bring back a prisoner. The ambush patrol was designed to engage and disrupt enemy activity in no man’s land.

Rosie had taken a train up the Korean Peninsula to a Replacement Depot. From there, he was trucked to his unit on line along with a group of other soldiers. When he got to his unit, he got off and helped load the truck with several body bags to take to the rear. Rosie didn’t know what to say or do, but the realization that the body bags were filled with Americans killed in combat on patrol the night before frightened him. He looked around. He was just outside a Company Command Post. It looked like a hole in the ground covered with sandbags. A Sergeant started hollering in a loud voice was trying to get the new troops in line so they could be processed and assigned to a platoon and then a squad. He was assigned to the first platoon Baker Company.

The Sergeants first comments were. “Welcome to Korea, we will do everything possible to make your stay a pleasant one”

There was no response from the new recruits. This was a Master Sergeant and no one wanted to mess with him. His image was not a pleasant one. He looked like one tough dude.

Then he snarled “If your lookin’ for security, I’m it”.

And then he laughed. Nobody else did.

He started calling the roster and assigning them to squads. The company was about one hundred and sixty men. The company was broken down into four platoons of forty men each when at full strength. Each squad of nine men was led by a sergeant or a senior corporal. His squad leader was Corporal Draff. I was the Platoon Leader, Lieutenant Dave Smith. I reported to the Company Commander Captain Joe Digereo Master Sergeant Bennie Grole was my platoon Sergeant and my right arm with the enlisted men.

Sgt Grole told the new men to line up behind their squad leaders and move out. As they approached the main line of resistance, Draff told his men to spread out crouch low and hurry into a series of trenches. Some outgoing mortar woooshed overhead toward the enemy lines. Rosie dove for the dirt.

A soldier came out of the trenches and pulled him up. “Don’t worry, buddy, that’s friendly. You’ll get to know the difference real fast”. “My name is Josh, I’m in your squad. I hope you know your welcome” he said with a grin.

He looked at him. Josh was black too. “We haven’t got much time. We are on a combat patrol and your going with us, so let’s get your gear stowed in a bunker and get saddled up. These things are all night dusk to dawn and it’s important to get out there and set up before the chinks have time to set up an ambush on us. Sgt Grole will be down here kickin’ our ass real soon. Don’t worry about him. He is the best damn Platoon Sergeant in the Army. Corporal Graff is the best squad leader”

He felt good about that. I walked up to Corporal Draff and spoke to him quietly. We were joined by Sergeant Grole and the other squad leaders. We ducked into the platoon bunker to review our mission for the night.

“Combat patrol all night tonight. All those artillery and mortar rounds goin’ overhead and nobody payin’ much attention”. thought Rosie.

“They wanna’ catch some prisoners. I hope those other guys don’t catch me first..”´ he said to himself.

He peered over the trench, nothing much out there. He also knew that there probably a bunch of bad guys over on the hill that he could see in the distance getting ready to do the same thing. He knew that he would be spending the night out there somewhere. It was late afternoon and it was getting cold. Some snowflakes started to fly. He had never seen snow before. He grew up and trained in the south. Maybe a smidgen of snow once in a while. He looked up at the sky. The black clouds looked serious and it was getting colder by the minute. Josh was getting ready for the patrol.

He slapped Rosie on the back and said “ hey, git movin’.”

He told him how to prepare. What to take, clothes, flak jacket, soft cap, ammunition, a bayonet, grenades and a shovel. These were all the things that he had become familiar with during training, but this was a whole lot more worryin.”

He thought back home. His daddy never knew if he could feed the family. He never knew if the owner would let him sharecrop next year. He never knew what would happen if anybody got bad sick. They would die I reckon. He never knew when a gang of white covered men would ride up and string him up. He only knew that everything seemed hopeless. but that he had to keep workin’. Jus’ keep hopin’ something good would happen.

His momma just worked and worked and kept sayin’ things would get better cause’ they couldn’t get much worse. She kinda’ smiled when she said it.

He knew that too, but he wanted to dream about the good things. The trouble was he didn’t even know what they was.

Until the Army came along and maybe there’s a chance. It seemed like the world got a whole bunch bigger mighty fast.

“I gotta’ find out how much bigger it can get.” he thought.

His first patrol was a combat patrol deep behind enemy lines.

“You’d a’ thought they would have given me an easy one to practice up on. I guess there ain’t no more practice. Time to git yo’ ass in gear, Roosevelt Washington Jones, this is the real thing and you is right in the middle of it.”

Several hours out our patrol was ambushed. I was knocked down, lying face up by the side of the trail. A figure straddles me and points a gun directly into my face. It was an enemy soldier.

“Shoot you fuckin’son of a bitch shoot.” I screamed.

I thought I was a dead man.

I saw the flashes from the muzzle close in to my face. Could hear the gun fire. I felt the bullets as they just knicked the side of my head. His body fell on top of me. I pushed him off. I could see blood coming out of his mouth. I could feel his blood on my face.

I could hear Rosie screaming “lawd a mighty, Sir.”

He leaned over and pulled me up. He had emptied his rifle into the guy’s back just as he opened fire on me. It diverted the gunfire to the side of my head the split second the enemy soldier had fired. He had saved my life. My head would have been blown away.

“Rosie, thanks. Jesus Christ, that was close. Where is the radio. We need help and fast.” I said.

“Green, the radio man is dead. Sgt Grole’s got the radio. He is talkin’ to Capt Digereo and he’s doin’ ah doin’ somethin’ ah somethin’ ah think But sir, ah sure no fo’ sho we is in a pack a lot of trouble, real deep shit” replied Rosie.

I said “Rosie I owe you one. And Rosie we will take care of this. We got nailed by an ambush. We know what to do. ”

He felt better.

Rosie thought “ain’t no white man ever said thanks to me befo’. And fo’ sure no white man ever said he owed me somthing.”

Sgt Grole came up behind him and kicked him in the ass.

“Hey you black motha fucka get yo’ ass in gear. Savin’ the Lt ain’t gonna’ make you no white man. Get over thar’ and help fill that perimeter. Sgt. Foley is dead. Grenade. A ranger patrol is comin’ in to help. Tell those guys not to shoot “em up when they try to come in. And, hey Rosie, the captain is bringing artillery in real close, so stay down.”

Sgt Grole surprised him “First time ah met Sgt Grole. I guess that’s the way he say hello. A boot in the ass. It don’t make no never mind. I got no mind to be white. I jus’ wanna’ be a good black soldier, as good as I can be. And, ise’ gonna’ be, yes Sir Sgt Grole ise’ a gonna; be. Po’Sgt Foley dead and ah never even met him. Sho nuff’ real scared. Ohh mamma. Pvt. Green, the radio man dead, Sgt Foley dead. Ah don’t know how many more. Ah sure hope I don’t git to be one of them”.

I turned to Sgt Grole. ‘You got a funny way to say well done. That soldier has been with us less than 24 hrs and he is doin’ great. Not to mention that he just saved my life. You’re the platoon Sergeant and I respect you, but maybe you could lighten up a little. The old timers understand you. Maybe these new guys need a little time. I don’t think that kid is seventeen years old yet. But he was old enough to react in a split second and kill a man. That is the only reason why I am still talking to you.”

The next morning, standing back in the trenches, Sgt Grole approached me.

“this guy looks like he is scared to death all of the time but he ain’t scared of nuthin’. He seems to know what to do and he will wade into the thick of it. Green is dead so Rosie’s your man Lt, runner, bodyguard, radio man, you name it. If you want him.. He’s already saved your life once and he stood tall with me in that patrol last night. Yes Sir, a mighty good man. That little bastard has balls, a great big pair of black balls.”

He was standing nearby with a big grin on his face. He was mighty proud. He started thinking about Amos his mule back home. Rosie new for sure he had great big black balls. It made him right homesick. Amos would pull and pull until he dropped. And sometimes I made him do that because we needed that crop to eat, sho’ nuff’. But I sure grieved for him. But Amos he always got up the next day and he would do it all over again. Before Amos, Rufus was my mule. He and I was like brothers. He would pull and pull jus’ like Amos until he dropped. And then, jus’ like Amos, he would get up the next day and pull and pull agin’. Only one day, Rufus jus’ laid there. Sho’ nuff pulled himself dead. I done made Rufus pull himself dead. And I grieved. Then I got Amos and you know what, Papa needed the crops so I made Amos pull, and pull and pull. And I grieved, ‘cause I knowed what was gonna’ happen soona’ or lata’.

He turned and muttered to himself. “Seems like it is jus’ lak’ that here. Except I’se the mule.”

Blacks Die First

Rosie thought back home

His daddy never knew if he could feed the family

never knew if the owner would let him sharecrop next year

never knew what would happen

if anybody got bad sick

die I reckon

never knew when a gang of white covered men

would string him up

only knew that everything seemed hopeless

but he had to keep workin’

hopin’ something would happen

It ain’t right my son laying down his life

ain’t got no choice

come back dead or a hero maybe or just plain Rosie

His momma just worked and worked

and kept sayin’ things would get better

couldn’t get much worse

black clouds cross her face cloud her smile

be just the same

poll tax, nigger stuff, back of the bus

git out o’ the way white folks say

except maybe when they wants you to die fo’ them

she beamed ‘cause she had to

‘cause Rosie beamed nothin’ but sunshine

Rosie he wanna’ dream about the good things

trouble was he didn’t even know what they was

white army drawl, stripes, big fast talk

look fit fo’ a white sheet

he say put yo’ x on the sheet

fo’ years

seemed like the world

might got a whole bunch bigger mighty fast

gotta’ find out how much bigger it can get

don’t want to think

‘bout his ass shot off

some eneme he don’t even know

not even mad at

maybe some friendly fire

A voice

A growl

An eruption

comin’ down the trench

followed by Sgt Grole

a kick in the ass

followed by a shrapnel Frisbee

that severed Rosie’s head