Poems of the Korean war: 1951-1952     |     home                                                    Table of Contents POEMS OF THE KOREAN WAR: 1951-1952 SFC John Taylor Jones served with  Company "D," the heavy weapons company of the First Batallion of the 17th Infantry Regimental Combat, Seventh Division. His first assignments were Field First Sergeant and Forward Observer. He became Platoon Sergeant of the Mortars Platoon when the platoon sergeant was wounded. Jones saw combat in the Punch Bowl on Hill 1243 (meters), the highest hill on  the line which, according to the Stars and Stripes, received the heaviest sustained artillery bombardment of the Korean War. Later, he served at Heart Break Ridge.  TOC 967 Ammo Carrier Blind Pilot (ww2) Captain Captain II Captured Charlie Colonel Colonel II Communications Sergeant Communications Sergeant (second version) Deer First Night on the Line Fourteenth Regiment Frozen Knees Gunnery Sergeant Heartbreak Ridge John Bowhans Killing Fields Machine Gun Sergeant Major Marilyn Monroe Marines New Years Observation Plane Platoon Leader: Recoilless Rifles Platoon Leader: Machine Guns Platoon Leader: Mortars Pusan Boy Radioman I Radioman II Rhee Tay Hee ROK Commandos Step Brothers Tanks Third Platoon Tiger POEMS  967 Saturday, April 3, 1999 Now, that's a lot of lemons If your making lemonade, But if your counting ants, It would hardly make a parade. How about watermelons? It would make quite a pile. You could go from May through February If you ate three each day. How many American men died  In the 17th Infantry  Regimental Combat Team  in Korea? The many Korean boys that served with us and died were not counted. I don't have the count on the Nigerians either. RETURN TO TOC  Ammo Carrier Saturday, May 1, 1999 (Jake was not his real name.) What happened? I said As I looked with dread At the ammo carrier That had rolled off the road, Over the boulders, Into the stream below. It was Jake; They said, Their looks so sad. I saw his blood Upon the rocks, Congealed and red. A tall, black lad Was Jake. I remember his laugh, His calm. He brought the ammo up the hill, We stored it round by round. The stream had washed Some blood away-- Experienced with the dead-- Some dead Chinese Were in its bed, Long lost identities. Our Korean boys Bathed in that stream, They broke the ice away. Living. Dead. It mattered not, The stream flowed On its way. Back in Texas, Parents would morn, Their son had slipped away. It wasn't even an enemy round, Not a mine, But just a road that gave way. I took one more look At that jumbled wreck, Then peered into the sky. The sky was blue, The air was cold, Another fine winter day That sapped the lives Of our young men. Poor Jake had to pay. RETURN TO TOC  Blind Pilot (WW II) Monday, May 3, 1999 Mr. Pearson invited him To our shop class, He couldn't see at all. His fighter crashed On the carrier deck, His craft spinning into the tower, Bursting into flame. Gallant deck hands Pulled him from the plane. (My cousin, Theo, Was on the Lexington When that great ship Went down, But Theo swam to another ship, And then it sunk too! He got picked up by A third ship, And the sailors there did say, "We don't want you on our ship, You're bad luck; You can just swim a way." Aunt Mary used to tell me that; I can hear her laugh to this day.) He was a fine looking sailor, An officer too-- My brother was in the navy-- He told us all about the war, My brother was in harm's way. He didn't moan About his loss, This sailor Home from the sea. It was just The fate Of that merciless war; That's why He couldn't see. I often think Of that brave man, And so many others I have known, Some of which Gave up their lives And never did come home. He didn't moan, He didn't cry, About his loss of sight. It was what Was expected of him And all men called to fight For home and freedom And life itself. For that, He gave his sight. Mr. Pearson invited him To our shop class, He couldn't see at all! RETURN TO TOC  Captain Wednesday, May 5, 1999 He had four kids, Had fought before In World War II, That's for sure. He was on New Guinea, A dreadful spot, For many months Things did get hot. After the war, He joined the reserve, For a few bucks a month, There he did serve. But the war broke out in Korea, It wasn't supposed to. He got called up, And off he went. He had a wife, Four kids too. Things to worry about, As married men do. So he bugged out During an attack. They transferred him to us, We liked him too. I was with Baker Company On the west side of the battalion. He was at the highest point With the battalion commander. I use to eavesdrop On the phone, Everyday he called Division; He wanted to make that home. I couldn't blame him, With four little kids. He was in harms way. He needed to protect them. And when we got off the line, He got his hoped for transfer. I saw him once after that, Dressed in rear-echelon splendor. But those division guys Had to come up on the line. I remember them coming up, All dressed so fine. We were glad to see them, The Chinese snipers too. Their .44 caliber sniper rifles Had much to do. Every once in a while, a division officer Would get picked off By a sharpshooting Chinaman, Who was not quite as aloof. But our captain- I think-survived his second war, And went back home To his wife and children four. Thank God for that! RETURN TO TOC  Captain II Thursday, May 6, 1999 Now, Captain II's children were raised, Or almost, at least; He had no babies. So he had got his courage back, Which leaves with babies But later comes back. RETURN TO TOC  Captured Thursday, May 6, 1999 We lost two from "A" Company last night When the Chinese came up and called to them. They knew their names and called them out Into the cold winter's night--just by a shout. So they were gone, captured by the foe Who were clever enough to make them go Into the freezing winter night Twelve-hundred forty-three meters above the sea. The cold winds blew, We watched for them. Maybe they would escape As trained to do. We watched and listened Throughout the morning, Hoping they would get back. We never saw them again. RETURN TO TOC  Charlie Friday, May 7, 1999 Charlie flew over the mountains that rimmed the Punch Bowl. He spotted our position and in came the 240 millimeter mortar shells. The Lieutenant said to me, "To old and new men, This isn't fun, get the best cover you can." The next morning--I couldn't find my map-- Me and my radio man began to climb Up Hill 1243, the highest hill on the line. Why, the weather was just fine. We trailed up the creek, filled with dead bodies, Then trudged up the muddy mountain trail with nine of our buddies. We had the machine gun sergeant and some of his men, For every step forward, we slid back ten. The mortar shells came in, disrupting our thoughts, We struggled grabbing limbs to get to the top. How long did it take us to get up the trail? Eight or nine hours, things didn't go that well. As we got to the top, we saw the ROK soldiers Who had taken the hill from the Chinese defenders. The shells pounded in, they hardly took cover, Fate is what they called it if something went wrong. A group of six or seven hovered around a fire, A mortar round put the fire out, they all did expire. I felt sad for those men. What about their families? But the ROK soldiers payed them no mind. The next mortar shell that hurt the ROK army Went through the roof of a hoochy filled with their men. I felt sad for these too, they'd not go home again To family and loved ones. They'd not see their friends. The shells came more heavy, the Chinese knew we had arrived. They wanted to greet us, but not keep us alive. We tried to dig in the top of that mountain, But the rock was too hard, we laid in the open. The only near cover was held by the ROKs Who would not leave till tomorrow when our rifle companies came up. We split a can of fruit cocktail, a tiny can at that. It was the first good meal we had since two days before--hunger is just part of war. My radio man went to find B Company Commander While I tried to dig to protect us from the thunder. He soon came back with the report: "He said to stay where we are Until tomorrow when the ROK soldiers leave." There's one little note I surely must tell, My radio man Got blown off the trail. Then the shells pounded in, 155 millimeter. They weren't Chinese, they killed two of our brothers. Now the eleven was nine from our own artillery shells. I thought to myself, Things are not going that well. Then they fired again, our artillery friends, The shells hit around me and hit our good friend. The machine gun sergeant was hit in the shoulder, We could see the white bone, but he'd probably grow older. They fired time three, and killed another of us, We had enough of our artillery--they caused such a fuss. I said to my radioman, "We might be a lot safer If we climb over top and take our chances with the Chinese." Well, our artillery stopped hitting us, they raised their elevation So not to clip our mountain top, it was the least they could do. It was a simple mistake, it could happen to you. Oh, it happens all the time, the fortunes of war. Why our company had been strafed by our planes before. Well, I prayed that night and saw a white light; A voice said to me, "Enjoy the fight! You might be killed or you might be maimed, But in the long term, you will be the same." So I took the precautions to save my cheap body Worth two bucks or so if it were a commodity. As the days went on, things got no better Six weeks without a bath, a very dirty matter. But I'll never forget that first day on 1243 Where my buddies did pay, seven of the eleven, dearly. Wounded or killed or feet frozen to ice. 1243, you weren't that nice! I'll take the Celery Patch War* any day. (*see humorous poems) RETURN TO TOC  Colonel Saturday, May 8, 1999 He was a major from Fort Benning Who had never seen combat. He was new to our outfit and wanted field grade, But combat was needed for the colonel upgrade. A stocky man with a good soldier's brain, He trained me personally in the killing trade. I like him and he liked me, A fatherly man who adopted me. I remember one day on Hill 1243 When he walked up the trail just to check on me. I said, Good morning major! He gave me a frown because I saluted him on the killing grounds. Besides, there was a reason for his walk-- He never came out of his hole to talk-- He'd just made light colonel and proud was he, Although he had no insignia, My company commander, Who trailed along, Said, "How you doin', Jones? Your hair's too long. The colonel said, "Shave off that beard. You could get hit in the face." I forgot to shave as They went back to their place. Sometime after that at the MLR* To which we had been placed Because the Chinese strayed too far-- Our new lieutenant moved the guns Even though I warned him it wouldn't be fun. The colonel came up and said, "What's going on here? This is not what I trained you to do, Jones, I fear." I pointed to the lieutenant standing near. The colonel's face turned read, Bad words I did hear. He said, "Don't you ever tell Jones what to do, I sure as hell will court marshal you, if you do." I felt sorry for the lieutenant, Although I had warned him. We called him Mighty Mouse, Because of his size, And he had kids at home, And feared the mountain war, And had refused to fire the 75 mm recoilless rifles Because of his fear. The smoke from the guns brought in mortar rounds That landed too near. *MLR = Main line of resistance. RETURN TO TOC  Colonel II Saturday, May 8, 1999 Our first bird colonel, Our regimental head-- Who told me when I got to Korea, That I'd most likely soon be dead Because he was losing half his men, To our dread-- 'Wanted to get his name in the Stars and Stripes So he towed tanks with bulldozers up Hill 1243's heights. Well one bulldozer rolled down the mountainside, But he soon had a tank on the hill. It pounded away at positions And the Chinese responded to Hill 1243. The mortar rounds came in, 120 mm for the most part, They fired day and night, Having no effect on the tanks, Not too good for men Who served in the ranks Without much shelter, Without any tanks. We'd been on the hill For 43 days, We needed a bath In seventeen ways. I called the lieutenant Down below with the mortars, I said, "In our clothing, I think we have borders." So up came the platoon sergeant, And a sergeant from Minnesota, And two radio men, Our needed quarter. We met them at the peak of the hill, Left the platoon sergeant there, Then without much glee, We took the Minnesota sergeant to Company B. Well, rounds came in and went out, He didn't know the difference, He crawled much of the way, A half mile distance. When we got to our bunker, I climbed in to get my gear, Some rounds, outgoing, went over, He dived into my rear. We walked below the ridge line, My radio man and I, Then down to the mortars, We were on the fly. When we got down below, Our platoon sergeant got hit, So I was platoon sergeant, That was it. We took a jeep down to the showers, Far below, And soaked in the showers Until they made us go. We went back to the platoon, I got a call, From B Company commander, who said, "Get this Minnesota sergeant out of here! He's causing us dread." I couldn't blame the sergeant For showing too much fear; His wife had bore a baby girl Just the day before. I sent my radioman up the hill, To play the sergeant's role, He served us well as he always did; We went on with the show. I called the platoon sergeant recently, John Bones in Illinois, He said his injured knee had healed, From injury, he was free. His wife is in a wheelchair, Has been for many years. John Bones is a good man indeed, For that, she has no fears. As to my radioman, He was from Arizona, I heard he got hit in the Iron Triangle, Of that I'm not certain. I know his name was, Chick, I wish I knew the rest, But I lost my little red address book, His name, and all the rest. Of all the guys I fought with, I've only had contact with three. Our platoon leader, Lieutenant Keith Abbot is dead, I know From his genealogy. They were all good men In Company D of the 17th RCT* Most were drafted And wanted no rank responsibility. All were brave, All were older than me. I was platoon and field first sergeant-- Age nineteen. RETURN TO TOC  Communications Sergeant Monday, May 10, 1999 His demeanor was almost feminine, In fact it really was. A kind, smart, helpful man Who kept our radios right. Now the radios Weren't worth a damn; You'd have more luck If you waved your hand. The telephones, They had to work; And from that task, He never shirked. I had four lines Into my hole in the ground. Each morning they were out, We could never hear a sound. So my radioman and I Would follow the line; We had to fix what Was pre-assigned. The communications sergeant Had to fix the other three; He got shot at a lot On Hill 1243. We got 1300 rounds In on us everyday, That's what the Stars and Stripes Did say. The rounds would Lob over our hill Down where most of Our lines were placed. So he took extra risk Everyday. Those blasted Chinese Just wouldn't go away. The Old Man tried To get him the silver star. He had showed his bravery Many times. Well, he didn't get it, They said, Why should he? I guess it was because he was Taking the same rounds as we. Still, he was brave indeed. RETURN TO TOC  Communications Sergeant (second version) Slight of build, effeminate, But a mighty soul was he, He climbed the mountains Day and night To repair the lines, You see. The lines were always out From constant Chinese shelling. He had to get them back in again, The shells never stopped Propelling. So, we tried to get him The silver star, A reward he truly deserved, But the rear echelon brass, Never would With us concur. Well, what did they know About war and hell, Sitting on their seats? Well they knew That others daily Did similar feats. But if one of there boys Stumbled and hurt his toe, Why he'd get the bronze star For such a trivial blow. So Commo Sergeant Did his job Just like the rest of us. He never could understand Why all the metal stuff. RETURN TO TOC  Deer Tuesday, May 11, 1999 When I was a boy, with a friend named Paul, We used to go into the mountains when the snow did fall. We knew the snow would drive the deer and elk down, And we could count them as they ran and bound. One day we counted Seventeen-hundred deer And four-hundred elk As we hiked up City Creek Canyon And went west over the top home. In Korea, as we came off the line, Waving to the Marines we left behind, We saw two ROK soldiers carrying a deer, To long poles was his funeral bier. I though how sad For that poor creature, Once abundant in the land, Now not a feature. War kills animals As well as man, It kills trees and plants Throughout the land. It has no respect For any living thing, Was that the last deer Which from those poles did swing? RETURN TO TOC  First Night on the Line Monday, July 26, 1999 The CO said, "I've got some news: An early Thanksgiving dinner. We're going on the line, you see. It'll be a lousy winter." So we got our turkey Early that year of 1951. We were headed for the Punch Bowl To give the Chinks some fun. A battery of eight-inch howitzers Camped by us that night. It wasn't long before They started their fire fight. The artillery was on the line, The big guns shook the earth, Firing eight miles was nothing to them, The big guns shuck the earth. In fact, I was Sergeant of the Guard that night, Watching the battalion perimeter. I came into the squad tent after making the rounds, Lieutenant Keith Abbot lay their sleeping. The guns had not fired as of yet, I knew they surely would. I thought that they would send one round out So the FO could see if it was placed good. But now, I was just laying down, When they fired all guns for affect. Lieutenant Abbot lifted horizontally in the air And landed on his feet. His face was ashen, Then turned violet. "What the hell was that? I needed some quiet!" "It's the howitzers," I said. "Everything is all right. The artillery is on the line, But us, not quite." He had given what he had to give, During WWII. He didn't need Korea To add to his stew. He had bugged out In a rifle attack. Korea was something He just couldn't hack. But he was a great man, And he trained us well. He just wanted out of That Korea hell. He settled back down, I'm sure with no sleep, The howitzers kept blasting away, Throughout the night. The earth rolled like an earthquake, The blasts were deafening, I said, "How can those gunners Stand that torture being next to those guns? The next morning We piled into the jeeps and trucks And drove all day through the mountains, The road shaking our guts. We had field rations, One assault packet to eat. Crackers, cheese and chocolate, It was no treat. The road became rougher, But we got to the valley, The beautiful Punch Bowl, Once farms of plenty. Then up into the mountains again, The artillery a pounding. We found a place to setup the mortars. Over came Charlie. Charlie was an aircraft That spotted us there. In came the 240 m.m. howitzer shells, Blasting holes in the frozen earth. The lieutenant came over, I was shaking a bit, and he said, "This isn't much fun. Try to get use to it." "There was nothing to eat that night, Nor the next morning. Ted Arlene and I gathered our two radiomen, names now lost. We started climbing Hill 1243. RETURN TO TOC  Fourteenth Regiment We sat there on the hill At Heartbreak Ridge Waiting for the Fourteenth Regiment To relieve us. They should have been there at dawn; Now it was afternoon. There would be trouble If they didn't get there soon. Finally, a lieutenant arrived With just a fistful of men. I said, "Where is your platoon? Where in the hell have you been? "There in these hills Somewhere," he said. "I'm sure they'll be here soon." My heart sank at his sorry words, I saw forthcoming doom. Finally, he said, "I'm relieving you now. I know you have to go." I said, "We can't leave you now. It will only bring you woe." But he ordered us away, And we did go. I jumped into the jeep, My troops into the six-bys. We headed down the road To the Valley of Death. When we passed through The camouflage netting That hid the open road, The bullets winged overhead, My face was against the floorboards. Ahead, I saw a major Standing in his jeep. He waved me to pull over, My driver stopped, The major said, "Where am I, Sergeant?" "Heartbreak is just ahead," I said,. "But spread this convoy out, Sir, Or all of you'll be dead." His hair was red, His face was white Until he heard my words. He turned a million colors, Thanked me and drove ahead. That night quite late, The rest of our company Came back into reserve. I said, "What's it like up there?" They answered with out reserve, "It's like a boy scout jamboree, All of them are lost, Stepping on mines, Flashing their lights, Calling for their friends." I felt so sad because I knew what was coming next. The Chinese would wait To make sure we were gone, Then their might they would flex Against this untrained regiment That had never seen a fight-- Other than among the prisoners They had been guarding On an Island Near Pusan. In a few days The bad news echoed Across the Korean hills, The Fourteenth was running From the fight, The Chinese did not sit still. Our Thirty Second Regiment Went to their relief And took the Ridge once more, That treeless, indefensible Heartbreak Ridge, So cruel throughout the war. We were called up too, To defend the MLR. To back up the Thirty Second, To not let the Chinese get too far. That was the story of the war, Untrained men, Bad equipment, Faulty ammunition in short supply. And The Brass Who failed to keep their men action-ready, And cost the lives of many. The Korean soil Holds the blood Of soldiers brave and weak, Who cared not for the war at all-- But freedom there still keeps. The Korean people Where the ones who knew What that great war was about And when I went there on business, The people make a fuss About me fighting there; "Thank's for what you did for us!" I say to every Korean veteran, From here or lands afar, Go to Korean to get your thanks; They're the only ones who care. RETURN TO TOC  Frozen Knees The shells whistled over my head As they did everyday. They were from a weapon dread A thousand yards away. I told my radio man, "I'm tired of this shit. I'm going to get That recoilless tube Before we both get hit." So we laid out there On frozen ground, The Siberian winds To greet us. I called in the mortars, Round after round, But the frozen ground Defeated us. My knees were frozen, I rubbed them good, And went about my business. The rounds came in Every day From a Cave Too Deep For us to hit with mortars. The Old Man Decided To bring up A tank Or Two. He used bulldozers To get them up, It took a week Some time to do. He said, "If I get those tanks on 1243, I know it will be quite a hike, But if I do, I know for sure That it'll get me into the Stars and Stripes. Why, it's the highest hill on the line, You see, It will surely show our might." Well, a bulldozer went tumbling Down the mountain, But the tanks got up all right, And the Chinese boys Back in the cave Lost their very lives. The tanks attracted fire Like bees to the blossoms of spring. My replacement couldn't take the strife That could cost him his life And leave alone his daughter and wife. So I ordered him down From that awful mountain Where I had dwelled For forty-three days. Where our platoon sergeant was hit So that we could shower, And others of our company Saw their last days. I went up there with eleven, Four came down the way they went up. Now on cold, wintry days, I rub my knees Frozen there. I pray to God To end such crimes Of human waste, Of lost mankind. But I know, that politicians love the killing, The heartless slaughter of men, women and children. It brings them glory, So they say, But the time will come When they must pay For every drop of precious blood Left on the ghastly fields of war. RETURN TO TOC  Gunnery Sergeant February 8, 2000 Probe Dieter came from Ancramdale;