The following vignette is provided this website courtesy of Arthur W. Wilson from his book Korean Vignettes: Faces of War which contains a total of over 200 vignettes(1/3 of which are by or about U. S. Marines.) For further information on this excellent book please click on the website button at bottom of the following vignette. It is our intention to rotate several of the vignettes here from Mr. Wilson's book on a monthly basis.

(Note: 122997) I recently purchased a copy of Korean Vignettes and I am very pleased to own a copy of this magnificent work. With 200 individual authors, besides Art Wilson, it has to be good! I even found one vignette there by a Postal Marine, MOS 0161. I highly recommend Korean Vignettes: Faces of War to any and all who are interested in the Korean war an those who fought that war.Please mention GyG's WebSite/Marine Vignettes when you visit Art Wilson's Korean Vignettes: Faces of WarWebSite and/or purchase his book, so that I may continue to bring you these monthly vignettes from his book. Thank you.

(Please see links on mainpage for Marine Vignettes and other stories)

This book is a much needed addition to our history of the Korean War. It depicts the role of America's fighting man in that conflict. The detailed narratives spotlight the individual serving in small Marine and Army units and salute his spirit and innate fortitude.

Frozen Zipper

It had been a hard and tough fight all the way up the hill. It was called Hill 698, near Sudong in North Korea. The date was 3 November 1950. Hill 698 doesn't sound like much, but if 698 meters are translated into feet it becomes hill 1995. With a determined enemy shooting at you, rolling grenades down on you as you climb to dig him out, it begins to feel like climbing Mt. Everest in your bare feet. Something I have often wondered about was on that date we knew we were fighting Chinese, and yet, the generals in Japan said there were no Chinese. We were fighting North Koreans, they said. Perhaps if the generals had left Japan to visit the front lines and take a good look, they would not have been so surprised three weeks later by the Chosin Reservoir onslaught.

Anyway, when the battle ended, the whole company was brought to the hill summit of 698, and a perimeter of defense established. Most of us simply moved into foxholes that had been dug by the Chinese. Their bodies were scattered all over. We counted forty of them. Our losses were five marines killed and ninety wounded. We were a seriously depleted company. That morning as we started out the day's attack, we had numbered about 190 men.

By the time I got to the hilltop perimeter, most of the holes dug by the Chinese were already occupied by marines. Next to the only one available that I could locate was an apparently dead Chinese. he was in a sitting position with his upper body leaning up against a tree. Lying next to him I noticed a potato masher type concussion grenade. He had a large wound in his chest. It looked as if he had been hit by a .50 caliber slug from a strafing plane. His foot protruded out over the opening of the foxhole.

Exhausted, I kicked his leg aside and crawled into his hole. I placed my rifle on the ground next to my new den, climbed into my sleeping bag and got ready for some sleep. As the evening wore on, it got quite cold. I drew my head inside the bag to stay warm and to keep my ears from freezing. Thankful that I had not been drawn for guard duty, I dozed off again.

I was awakened by feeling bits of dirt and debris coming down on me from above. Alarmed, I popped my head out of the bag, and was terrified to see a figure moving above me. When I tried to get out of the bag, I could not unzip the zipper. Apparently, I had been breathing on it and it had frozen stuck. At any rate, I was trapped inside and could do nothing to protect myself. I did manage to wiggle myself into a standing position, still trying to force the zipper open. As I stood, I could see that it was the Chinese I had thought was dead. He was barely able to move, but I could see he was trying to detonate the grenade that had been lying next to him. Due to his weakened condition, the result of his grievous wound, he was having trouble activating the grenade. I started yelling and cursing while I continued to struggle with the zipper. I knew I had to get out of my sleeping bag or I would be one dead marine.

Suddenly, I heard a loud blast and saw a big white flash. I thought, "So this is how it is to die." I opened my eyes, surprised to find myself still alive. I wish I could recall the name of the marine next to me who had heard my cries. He was positioned in such a way that the bullet from his rifle had to pass about six inches from my head to hit the menacing Chinese who was so determined to take me with him as he made the lonely journey to join his ancestors.

I got no more sleep that night. My adrenaline was too high.

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