A LETTER FROM 'DOC' FLAU By Don 'Doc' Flau August 23, 1999 #82 June 21, 1999
Hello 'Rats'
I thought I would write you and tell you how much I enjoy the H-3-5 news...and I have attempted previously to compose a "Story" for the paper, but alas my imput seems so slight when it comes to heroics, etc. Having been a Corpsman with H-3-5, I can recall many incidents, both frightening and humorius, and some that would downright embarrass even the "toughest."Since contact with H-3-5 News I have also been in contact with Thomas T. Thomas, and even the former platoon leader Lt. Mahakian, who now lives in Palm Desert. I did get together with Karl one time (Lt. Mahakian), and we had a good visit, but my feelings about incidents that occurred when we were on the front differed greatly from his recollections. Nevertheless we shared some laughs and parted good buddies.
As you probably recall, Corpsmen didn't spend the same time on the front lines as infantrymen did. We got rotated to a Battalion Medical Station, and then further back before returning to the States. Prior to my return to the States and the 155 mm Gun Battalion at Pendleton, I was sent to Easy Med. Easy Med, at that time, was located near the site of the "peace talks."
I was wel acquainted with a doctor, Dr. Birney Dibble, and he had written a book about the Corps in Korea "The Taking of Hill 1052." In the book I am "JJ." For any and all interested, this book is respectfully dedicated to the Corpsmen of the Third battalion of the Fifth Marine Regiment in Korea, and was published by Northwest Publishing Inc, Salt Lake City, Utah.
(Editor: I have been trying to find a copy of this book for several months for Doc kinzy. The Publishing Company is no longer in business and so far a copy cannot be found.)
Somehow Dr. Dibble heard that I was still around and wrote me a letter from an address he got at a reunion. I had just returned home that day, so I was quite excited and phoned him immediately. The next day I had his book and a VCR tape of the Medical Corps in Korea. It was prepared by the doctor, and is quite an interesting history of the Korean Saga. I was shocked when I placed the video in the VCR and played it. I was a lot thinner in those days.
In reading the "News," I noticed that most of the letter writers were in the thick of the action, as I was in the 15th draft; the action wasn't as heavy when I was on the lines, although I remember my first night on patrol out there with my platoon, all of us colder than you recall what, and wondering just what the hell we were doing there.
I don't regret one minute of the time I spent with the Corps, in fact for many years my wife and I have gone to Pendleton on Memorial day to experience the service on the base. I make it a strict rule never to work on the Marine Corps Birthday, and hold fast to that rule.
As you well know, some of my most frightening experiences were spent in Korea, and some of the most memorable moments of my life were spent there as well, sharing tales, both true and false, with buddies.
One time Jenafern, my wife, were at Oceanside, and on Hill Street this big burley guy was pushing a big keg of beer. He looked up, dropped the keg to the ground, came up, hugged me and said, "I'll be a son-of-a-bitch, Doc Flau, wow this is really a great day!"
I must say I have the same feeling whenever I come across a buddy. I was a Probation Officer at San Berardino County for twenty years, and my most promising probationers became Marines at my urging. Two of them have remained in touch over the years, and one of them; Able Contreras, who works at the base in Barstow, invited me to spend the day when his son got out of boot camp.
You can see I have fond memories of the Corps, and the News brightens my day. I hope to be around April 4, 2000 to share stories with you all.
Take care, I'm looking forward to shaking your hand. My heart aches for those days I was in the Corps and it seemed like we were all headed in the appropriate direction and strong in our faith that direction was fighting for the many amenities we shared.
God Bless-and Semper Fi
/s/ Don Flau
H-3-5 News 7/99
Editor, Jim "RATs" Ratliff
E-Mail: rats@centuryinter.net
Left In Charge By Jack Harnsberger August 23, 1999 #83
"I'm leaving you in charge of the squad Harnsberger, I know you will do a good job," said S/Sgt Cozad as he shoved off for R&R that fine spring day in 1952. Now it didn't look like a clause in a contract, but I understood perfectly that if I screwed up I was going to be asst BAR man instead of fire team leader of the 1st fire team.That was probably why I volunteered to be the man when the 1st squad was asked for someone to carry the mail out to the outpost later that morning. The outpost was quite a ways out, say 1200 yards or so, and the middle section went through a mine field. On the way out I carried my M-1 in both hands like a bird hunter. Infiltrators were sometimes flushed in the area and unless you scorned all but running shots, it paid to keep old Betsy ready for instant use.
Coming back from the outpost, I was more relaxed and day-dreaming a bit when all of a sudden I stopped in my tracks; something was wrong! Looking about I quickly saw what it was. The trail had taken a slight turn to the left and I had continued on straight , was now in the mine field and up to my ass in alligators.
Looking down in front of my 'Boondockers', I saw the 3 prong firing device of a bouncing betty mine. Oh Boy! The worst kind. I had stopped in the infinitesimal nick of time. looking to the left, there 20 feet away was the trail and I would have given at least one important part of my anatomy to be over there on it.
The situation called for nicotine, a new habit recently acquired free, courtesy of my beloved U.S. Government. (If you have liked this senseless craving dor tobacco, please, stop what you are doing and write to me at once, telling me exactly how you managed to do it.)
Kneeling down to get a closer look at the mine I got thrill #2; there was a trip wire, and this wire was so thin it could not be seen from a standing position. The situation called for extreme caution, but an old salt should be able to get out of it by being careful.
Facing left I slid one foot slowly forward and brought the other foot up, then again, and once again, but the next time as my foot moved forward I saw my dungarees cave in just above the ankle. Backing off and kneeling down I saw the trip wire and carefully stepped over it. Using this careful process I crossed two more wires and was soon back on the trail.
Back on the M.L.R. and after a cup of double strength powdered coffee, I felt pretty good but not for long, as the platoon leader showed up and said with all good cheer "Harnsberger, you have been out to the outpost today and know the way. Be up at the zig zag at 1900 to lead out the replacements for the outpost and bring the others back". Hell No Problem!
At 1830 it was the blackest night in history and I became concerned that I could not see the trail. I told the light gun crew at the zig zag that I would go to the foot of the hill and make sure the trail could be seen enough to risk traveling on it. They promised to guard for me and passed the word that a Marine was out in front of the wire and to hold their fire.
Well, there is always that 10% and sure enough, as I came back through the zig zag a little later, my rifle clanked on a steel stake and some nut had at me, full automatic with a carbine. After the first shot I was flat enough to travel air mail and yelling bloody murder as was the machine gun crew. After the shooting stopped, there was some discussion about passwords, countersigns and the desirability of their use, after which I headed for a triple strength cup of coffee.
The mission was accomplished that night (I made damn sure everyone stayed in single file) and a few days later Cozad came back from Japan with a contented look on his face and a big bottle of fermented spirits for the squad, He looked at me with arched eyebrows on inquiry, "NO PROBLEM" SAYS I, AND REACHED FOR THE JUG.
Semper Fi
/s/ Jack
H-3-5 News 7/99
Editor, Jim "RATs" Ratliff
E-Mail: rats@centuryinter.net
A Marine's Dream By Ted Besser August 23, 1999 #84
A Story By H-3-5's Poet LaureateTed Besser Editor: Ted has that unique talent to reach all your emotions with his writings, be they sad or humorous. He has contributed many articles to the News over the past few years which we all have enjoyed and for which we are very grateful. He is what Senoer Fidelis means. If I needed a poem, he always came through with one that was appropriate, the same with a story. He was alone now in the late hours of the evening in his cubby hole of an office. It had been quite a week and he was sleepy, tired and drained, not drained of strength but of emotion. Part of the week had been spent in Washington, D.C. attending the dedication of the Korean War Memorial of the long-overdue "Forgotten War Monument", but he wanted to say in later years, I was there, I saw the presentation that said we weren't forgotten.It was a historic few days of reverence, sadness and proudness, of being part of it all, but too emotional to stay longer.
Now in slumber and dreams there were no limits as to what he could do or say or remember without anyone knowing.
And now his thoughts transferred from his brain to a typewriter in his mind as the words and pictures flowed freely, not jumbled or mixed up, but one of a conversation with an unknown, not one of the ranks, not one of the Corps, and with closed eyelids he faced the unknown questioner one-on-one.
"Hey jar-head, Hey sea-going bellhop, hey pal were you a Marine?"
"You talking to me Pilgrim? Yes, I was--and am--a Marine, one of the President's own, one of America's Elite."
"What, what's it like to be a Marine, what outfit were you in, were you ever scared, how many medals have you got?"
"It's hot out here son, so let's sit down awhile and I will try to enlighten ya.""First of all, I was sent to Korea in 1950 to drive back an enemy who was trying to spread Communism and to save lives. You see, the Marine Corps has a chain of command and each link has its responsibility. Many brave men had their bodies broken by bombs, grenades and bullets which break that chain, but it's quickly repaired and new links are added. They return to their place making the chain stronger.
"Scared? Hell yes I was scared beyond belief. Scared is when you drop to the ground with the enemy fire zipping over your head and when you raise your head, right between your eyes is a wide blade of grass with a bullet hole dead center in the leaf. Incoming artillery walking up the hill hitting in front of a foxhole behind you and blows holes in a Navy Corpsman and you can't stop the leaks, and disoriented, you crawl outside your perimeter only to have another Marine place the muzzle of an M-1 six inches from your face, or to hear a sound being of a round being slid into a 45 somewhere behind you, and when you turn around all you see is the barrel and the silhouette of a man, you slap the gun and hands away of a sleeping Marine.
"STILL WITH ME BOY? I got more to tell ya, 'cause you asked for it."
"A firing pin breaks on the first round in your first battle and the fight goes on around ya and then you feel funny and dizzy and not being able to recall what's happening, when the First Sergeant gives you salt tablets and water and then you recover and move out to reinforce the advance unit, only to find the many who have been killed and wounded. And once again you man the gun, you lock and load, only to have a lieutenant tap you on the shoulder and tell you not to fire because we've lost too many men already. You want to fire so damn bad. Maybe the reason you don't remember the Lt's name is because he was an Angel protecting you.""Hold on kid, sit down. I'm about ready to sum all this up for ya. Scared is being on point, climbing up a hill outside Seoul, digging a foxhole to get some sleep, only to be awakened by incoming mortars that blew me out of the hole, and not being able, at that moment, to see how bad I'd been hit by the shrapnel. You're damn right I've been scared. Yeah, I've got a Purple Heart, but you see, we don't look for a medal for doing a job. We were more concerned for the guys in the next foxhole and I see in these statues at the Memorial the faces of Roy, Bob, Delbert, Everett and Lonnie, plus ten fold more who gave everything, and too many wounded from only a Company of good men."
"The Marine's guidebook tells you a lot about duty but, let me quote from the Bible, Luke 17:10; 'Is he grateful to the servant for carrying out his orders? So with you, when you carried out all your orders you should say 'we are servants and deserve no credit, we have only done our duty'. And to quote from one of my most respected writers, Louis Lamour, he says "Our most important possessions are our memories; in nothing else are we rich, in nothing else are we poor".
"And now my young friend I hope my answers will have made some sense of something you know absolutely nothing about but my wish is that you never have to go to war. But if you have a choice, do the honorable thing."
Perhaps he had hoped for a memorial dedicated to just the Marines who had n Korea, but it wasn't to be, so he bowed his head to the world's warriors who had served and prayed for them. It was an everlasting tribute from his heart.
Quiet now, the peaceful snoring begins as the clock on the wall chimes a long-ago time, August, 1950.All gave some...Some gave all
The above story is about one of H-3-5's own. We call him 'Woody'
Semper Fidelis,
Ted
H-3-5 News 7/99
Editor, Jim "RATs" Ratliff
E-Mail: rats@centuryinter.net
Parris Island-School Days By George Maling August 23, 1999 #85
School Days at P.I. were always looked forward to as a means of getting out of the hot sun and the rifle off your shoulder, or so we thought! I fthey showed a movie, it was a chance to catch a wink or two; so we thought. The D.I. gave you about five minutes to relax, made sure his assistants were strategically positioned ; then all hell broke loose. On went the lights; DIs and Asst's screaming epithets that even Clergy did not know and then came their favorite punishment.Maling notes: Schools at PI in the '50s were held in lengthy squad tents with two by fours as supports. "Chairs" consisted of wooden planks about two feet off the deck.
After more than half the platoon was caught napping, our empathetic D.I. "requested that you sit on one ankle, " on that hard board while the class lesson continued. I never dozed again at P.I.
I was the Platoon Guide for our outfit so when we entered each class room, it was my job to hold the door open till everyone was seated. So naturally, I was always seated in the back row. This particuilar day was a quiz on our General Orders. The instructor handed out the tests and instructed everyone in his most subdued, melancholy voice that anyone who turns his head or eyes from this minute on will finish his exam up on the ROOST. The ROOST consisted of the two by four over each end of the tent above the doorway.
By the time he was half way through handing out the papers, he caught one Marine looking astray and said, "Up in the ROOST!"Seeing that I was in the last row when the Instructor came by to hand me my test, I reached over to him to get the test and to my astonishment to say the least, he bellowed, "and you, get up on the other ROOST!"
He then issued instructions to his "birds" up in their ROOST that when he coughed, the first "bird" was to say, "I'm a shitbird from Yamassee" in a very high pitched voice like a bird. And to me hanging on for dear life on that 2X4 over the door and trying to write out my General Orders, I was to respond to the first "bird's" declaration ---"ME TOO" in a high pitched melodious bird call voice. Naturally, however loud you responded, it was never satisfactory for my beloved DI so he would utter that most famous boot camp order; "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" So after 5 or 10 war chants from the Houdini birds chirping, I'm sure my fellow Marines will never forget their General Orders, at least the day they took their exam.
/s/ George Maling
E-Mail: gmaling@worldnet.att.net
H-3-5 News 7/99
Editor, Jim "RATs" Ratliff
E-Mail: rats@centuryinter.net
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