Insulated Liners For Company L
Chorwon Valley, Korea September 1952
It was mid-September. Sayonara sweltering heat. My T-shirt was as brown as the bottom of the trench outside my bunker. The buttons on my fatigue shirt were to become reacquainted with their loopholes as autumn was stealthily sneaking up on us. I heard about the Korean winter from the older veterans, but I arrived at the beginning of April when a field jacket was an adequate insulator. Now the sun was shining brightly, and the last few days had been in the mid 60s, very comfortable days to escape the dampness of my bunker.
The Stars and Stripes was being passed around our platoon. I searched for my photo with a singing crone from a July USO show who could only be appreciated by men who were thousands of miles from civilization. No luck. The sheet was to become my toilet tissue the next time nature calls.
Another patrol into the Chorwon Valley. No contact; no casualties. August was a deadly month for Company L. We lost our medic, my bunker buddy Wayne, and seven other men. Only Wayne was replaced by Salinger in late August.
A tall, burlap curtain along the road leading to our position tried, but failed to hide the wake of dust left by the Jeeps or 2 1/2 ton trucks. The rains came later leaving a thin layer of mud on the surface of the roads consequently, the Jeeps and the 2 1/2 tons were able to reach us without an incoming mortar barrage. The potable water truck came by frequently to fill our Lister bags, and our cooks emerged from their tents in the rear with a more frequent hot dinner.
As the days passed, we added a field jacket to our ensemble. It was quite comfortable and it didn’t interfere with our movement. In fact, it added to the warmth when we zipped ourselves into our sleeping bag. Soon, our field jackets were no match for the wicked winds that accompanied the chill. No matter how I tried, the cold won the battle.
I didn’t have the nerve to speak up, but as Lt. Crowe, our platoon leader passed Sgt. Hoover, I heard,
“Sir, my bunker is colder than a well-digger’s asshole. Can’t we get some warmer clothes?”
Lt. Crowe smiled and said he would see what he can do. In two days a Jeep arrived with a bundle of clothing in the back seat. The driver removed the bundle and quickly returned from wherever he came.
Lt. Crowe went from bunker to bunker distributing button-in vests for our field jackets. The vests had hard, white toweling on one side, and thin, a glossy O.D. fabric on the other. As I was buttoning in the vest, Lt. Crowe, with a grin said
“Battalion wants us to keep the vests clean.”
It was as if our platoon was issued an order to scrape the white side of our vests along the walls of our trenchline. There wasn’t a clean vest in the 2nd platoon. These vests were as useless as the 101 packs* that were sent to us from the rear.
Fortunately for me, there was a plan to invade North Korea on its northeastern coast. Experienced combat men were needed to accompany non-combatants stationed in Japan. Lt. Crowe asked three men and myself if we wanted to go to Japan to train with the non-combatants. Two more months in Korea and I would return stateside. I was reluctant to leave the men of the 2nd platoon with whom I shared horrific experiences as well as a great deal of laughter. I told Charley Kaurneckis, about the offer. As I had expected, he replied,
“You can’t leave Riley, we’re a team!”
I grew fond of Charley. He was right. We were a team. He was the point man, and I was the runner. He left me in a quandary, but he was a risk-taker. Who would be concerned about my welfare? I found Lt. Crowe near his bunker.
“If I were your son, and was given the chance to go to Japan, what advice would you give me?” He replied,
”You’ll never know when a bullet or a piece of shrapnel has your name on it.”**
It didn’t take long for my decision. That was it. I went to the men in my platoon, said my goodbyes, and in two days, I left for Japan.
*101 packs were small crates containing cigarettes, candy, shoe polish, shaving cream, after shave lotion, toilet paper, etc. for the GIs on the MLR (frontline). By the time it reached us, shoe polish, after shave lotion, and a few packs of Chesterfield cigarettes were in the near empty crate. Chesterfields did not go over well with the smokers. New M2 carbines, with a 30 round clip were sent to the men on the line. We never got them. They were picked out by the men in the rear.
** Company L was soon transferred to the western side of the Chorwon Valley. Its position was on a rocky slope where digging deep foxholes was not possible. As a result, there were many casualties, among them, Murray Lichtman who lived a few blocks from me.
For the complete story read, Cold Ground’s Been My Bed: A Korean War Memoir by Daniel Wolfe