Free Valleys of Death by Bill Richardson Page A

one man. He was lying on the ground under his poncho. I pushed him with my boot.
    â€œLet’s go,” I whispered. I was nervous and wanted to get going before another attack.
    Walsh, standing nearby, looked over at me.
    â€œSarge, that’s Johnson. He’s dead.”
    I felt terrible. It hurt to see another one of my men dead in the mud. I didn’t even know Johnson that well. He was another replacement and I’d only just learned his name. The fact that I had little time to dwell saved me. Plus, I knew that if I showed weakness my men might finally give in and feel sorry for themselves, and I couldn’t have that. We needed to stick together. I became stoic and would remain that way for a long time.
    Grabbing two of his unit mates, it was so dark I wasn’t sure who, I told them to pick Johnson up and carry him out of there. We started to head toward the assembly point on the other side of the hill. Once we were on the road, the movement was agonizingly slow. We moved for about an hour and then stopped. I was called to the front of the column with all of the platoon leaders.
    It was another attack.
    â€œThe entire battalion is going to attack Hill 570. Three ridges go direct to the top of the hill. K Company will be on the left, we will move in the center, and I Company on the right,” McAbee said. “We will attack at daylight with no artillery or air support. The Second and Third platoons will attack abreast, Second on the right, Third on the left. Richardson will follow with 57s in the center; the First Platoon will be in reserve.”
    The hill, two miles southwest of the village of Ka-san, was a strategic point because it overlooked the Taegu Road. The hill was defended by bunkers, and intelligence reports said the North Koreans would likely make a strong stand there because once it fell, the way would be open for unrestricted advance.
    A thick fog hugged the ground as we climbed Hill 570. We knew the North Koreans were on the top of the ridge waiting. The climb was steep and took us a while. I knew the North Koreans were just waiting for us to get into range. When we were halfway up, they finally opened up on us with machine guns and mortars.
    I kept my head down and kept climbing. There was nothing else to do. I didn’t think about getting killed. I only worried about my men. I constantly urged them to keep climbing. We couldn’t stop. And we didn’t.
    Soon, the firing stopped, the North Koreans withdrawing farther up the hill. The visibility was getting better as we kept moving up. Still we had not made contact with the main Korean positions.
    All of a sudden we started receiving fire from the positions on the top of the hill. I could see men from the other platoons running from the machine gun and mortar fire. Many of them were being hit by shrapnel from the mortar fire. We were panicking.
    â€œStay down,” I yelled at my men as soldiers from the other platoons brushed by us heading down. If they tried to run, they would be cut down by the mortar fire.
    Climbing behind a cluster of rocks, I managed to hold my men in place. But there was no one in front of us. Since they didn’t have any targets, the North Koreans slacked off in their firing. I knew we couldn’t take the hill alone. I kept the men in position, and shortly after, Lieutenant Peterson, the company executive officer, came up the hill.
    â€œHow many men do you have?” he asked.
    â€œI’ve got two 57s and all my men.”
    â€œMove up the hill a little more and hold the position until I get back,” he said.
    I just looked at him. He looked me straight in the eye. “Got it?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    He turned around and went back down the hill. I realized that I’d never told him how many men I had. I was sitting there with only eight men counting myself.
    I moved up the hill until we started receiving fire. I had my men spread across a finger of high ground. I