Rosie’s First Patrol
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 50th Infantry Division 2nd Regiment. This was brand new. Blacks fighting along side 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. (map) Snook and Arsenal were two American outposts situated at the tip of the alligator jaws in very close proximity to the enemy positions 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.”
