Valleys of Death by Bill Richardson

placed me on the right flank of the company.
    â€œLieutenant, we can bring fire on the North Koreans as they approach, but we won’t be much use at night because we won’t see them until they get close,” I said.
    The hill dropped away at such a sharp degree that the 57s would shoot harmlessly over their heads.
    â€œAt night we’ll just be another rifle platoon, so I’m going to need grenades,” I said.
    My men didn’t have any grenades, but I was happy that I had gotten thirty-round clips from the air defense unit on the ship.
    Winn looked at Vaillancourt.
    â€œI got it, Rich,” the platoon sergeant said. After the meeting, he pulled me aside.
    â€œWe’re only getting one C ration per two men.”
    I shook my head. “That means a meal and a half a day. Supplies are that short? You’ll at least have grenades.”
    â€œThe Army wasn’t ready for Korea,” Vaillancourt said. “Send a runner back for the grenades.”
    When I got back to my section, the guys were digging in. I told them to set up the guns, but we’d be covering our section with rifles that night. We were all wired after our first firefight, and it was good that we had something to do. I was happy to see that everybody was digging with a sense of urgency.
    I was worried about our open right flank. I ordered the section to dig some positions facing to the right in case we had to occupy them.
    When we were done, I told my guys to eat and rest while I got with Walsh and Gray.
    â€œWord is the North Koreans are attacking at night. Take the C ration cans and fill them with rocks,” I said. “And tie them at knee height in the bushes in front and to the right of us.”
    I dug my hole slightly to the rear and in the center of both squads.
    â€œIf you need to get to me, come from the side. No one should get out of his position unless it is absolutely necessary. If they get through, stay in your hole because I’m going to shoot anyone standing up.”
    The men nodded.
    â€œThe password tonight is ‘north,’” I said. “Response is ‘rebel.’ ”
    I had two men in each foxhole. Walsh was with me. I told Walsh to gather up some small rocks and put them in the bottom of the foxhole. He looked at me like I was crazy.
    â€œWhat the hell is this for?” he asked.
    â€œWe’re going to take turns throwing them at any hole that does not answer when we call them. I’m not taking any chances on anyone falling asleep.”
    That night everyone was on edge. Walsh and I tried to make small talk, but this was not a small talk night. None of us could sleep. Mostly, I called out to my men and scanned the now pitch-black valley. Every noise, smell and shadow drew my interest.
    The attack started with a guttural scream. The North Koreans came out of the brush in waves. We could see them moving toward us like shadows. Muzzle flashes exploded out of the darkness. There was very little aimed fire. Instead we were firing straight ahead in their assigned zone. Soon, screams from our wounded joined the chorus of battle cries, orders and machine guns.
    Illuminating rounds from our mortar section soon lit up the area like a ballpark, making the North Korean soldiers look like silhouettes on a firing range. We dropped several before the flare burned out. Since the rounds were in short supply, the mortars waited several minutes between rounds.
    During a lull, I could hear one of the engineers to our left screaming in pain and calling for his mother. His sobs and screams for help landed harder than the North Korean artillery shells.
    Finally, Private Jones, one of my young smart-asses, had heard enough. He started to yell and scream. I covered Walsh as he scrambled out to Jones. He was on the bottom of Hall’s hole crying. Walsh tried to get him up, but he wouldn’t move. I climbed out and helped Walsh drag Jones’s ass out of the foxhole.
    â€œYou