Marching On: A General’s Tales of War and Diplomacy

By Gordon Sumner, Jr.

This book provides vignettes of the author's experiences that will be of great interest to anyone interested in America's involvement in world affairs beginning with World War II to the present. As seen through the eyes of a participant, General Sumner tells his "war stories" in a most politically incorrect style.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elderberry Press
• Release date: Nov 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458173973

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Marching On

A General’s Tales of War and Diplomacy

Copyright © 2004 Gordon Sumner, Jr.

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This book is dedicated to the gallant members of the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marine Corps with whom I served in three wars. They represent the thin line that defends this country, a line many times drawn in blood.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

There is no way this book would have been completed without the love and encouragement of my wife, Frances. While many of my friends and associates have pressed me to write of my experiences, Frances did the heavy lifting, taking my handwritten manuscripts, cleaning them up, and putting them on a computer disc. There would be no book without her.

There are many others who have assisted in important ways. Alan Pope did yeoman's work in editing, Kyle Ray did the art and photographic work, Lenore Miranda supplied the title, and numerous friends read and commented on the drafts.

I would be remiss not to acknowledge the support of my children and Frances' children, the extended family, who have suffered through the ten years of writing and rewriting.

Lastly, I would like to acknowledge the role of David St. John, who has encouraged and assisted as both the publisher and agent for this first-time author.

Any errors of commission or omission are entirely those of the author.

INTRODUCTION

When Gordon Sumner asked if I would write this introduction to his book, I wondered, why me? After all, he was always senior to me and has been my mentor many times over the years. But it occurred to me that it was probably because we’ve been close friends since the mid50’s when we were Captains and Battery Commanders in the Eleventh Airborne Division at Fort Campbell and in Germany. A large group of those young officers from the Division Artillery units in the ‘50’s became General Officers. It was a special grouping that I had not seen before nor have I seen after. He could write a lengthy book on that phase of our military adventures alone. I probably know more about Gordon Sumner than do any of his other fellow warriors. I can cite all of his many attributes, and if properly primed, tell about the few long poles in his tent as well.

Since early in his military service, he and his first wife Mac (long deceased) were a special team destined for leadership, him in the Army, and she in the Girl Scouts at the national level. Gordon Sumner was great with troops, and equally as effective in the presence of appointed and elected officials, whether foreign or domestic. In fact, after retirement, he became an Ambassador at Large, trouble shooting for the State Department throughout Latin America. He had a special talent in scoping and coping at the strategic level. In those years, Communism was the major villain, and he had the Communists in his bullseye throughout his career.

You will enjoy reading this book, especially if you have some military background or follow military history. Even those without a military background will appreciate the General’s stories. It’s an easy read. You can start or stop any place because it is a series of vignettes, some short and some lengthy, but each a complete, entertaining, and informative story within itself. He and I agonized over a proper title, until in a telephone conversation I suggested one which we both liked but didn’t write down, and then promptly forgot and couldn’t for the life of us recall what it was.

General Sumner’s military career is unique. He began as an enlisted reservist during World War II, served in the Horse Cavalry after an ROTC background with horses in New Mexico Military Institute, and transferred from the Armor Branch to the Field Artillery as a junior officer. His World War II service was spent preparing for the invasion of Japan itself, and so he never was committed to combat in the big war. He made up for it in Korea with the First Cavalry Division in 1950 where he was wounded, captured by the Chinese, and escaped. From a hospital in Japan, he wound up writing for General MacArthur. Years later, he was in the middle of combat again in Vietnam with the 25th Infantry Division. One of the best stories I remember from his Vietnam days is when he dropped his map, which was in his lap, from the door of a helicopter over the Boi Loi Woods. He and his pilot watched it all the way to the ground, where he made a one man combat assault in a Command and Control Helicopter in hostile territory to retrieve it. The map had all the Divisions Fire Bases plotted on it.

During his interesting career, he was Military Assistant to the Secretary of Defense (Melvin Laird) and he was in and out assignments with the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the J-3 and J-5 shops, where he became a nuclear war strategist (a nukie to those in the know) and a Latin American military-political expert (if such things really existed). His attention was shifted from Latin America to the Mid East when he commanded the Middle East Task Group during the ’73 Yom Kippur war in Israel. He finished his career as Chairman of the Inter-American Defense Board, a Rio Treaty Organization, and an assignment from which he retired in disgust when President Carter gave away the Panama Canal. History is revealing the foolhardiness of that political Presidential blunder.

Gordon Sumner writes about this and more. You will especially enjoy reading about his impression of some of his senior officers and mentors. I knew most of them, and his insights are accurate and informative. Wars are all different, yet much the same. Each one has a special flavor that can only be told by those who were participants. To those on the ground fighting for their life, it matters little whether the war is confined to a rice paddy in Vietnam, a few blocks in Somalia, or whether or not it expands continents and scores of nations. General Sumner makes that clear in some of his stories. His writing style reflects his personality—outgoing, direct, animated, entertaining, and unafraid of consequences. From friendly fire (an oxymoron) in El Paso when an enlisted man, to skinning mules in Colorado, to bed bugs on the Battalion Commanders’ desk, to being overrun in the Korean winter, to learning how to cope with a clever enemy in Vietnam, to the political realities that perplex and frustrate military commanders time after time, you will enjoy this book.

Vernon B. Lewis, Jr. Major General, U.S. Army Retired

Private Sumner, basic trainee, 1943. Fort Knox, Kentucky.

CHAPTER 1

My First Friendly Fire

As a bit of background to this first war story, I should explain that I was born in Albuquerque, New Mexico. My parents sent me to New Mexico Military Institute (NMMI) in Roswell, New Mexico, for the last two years of high school and junior college. My father, who had served in World War I as an engineer officer, believed very strongly in the late thirties that the United States was headed for war. He told me that the only way I would survive the oncoming hostilities was to be as well trained as possible. So as war loomed ever closer in 1940, he decided to send me to the Institute, a military school with a four-year program leading to an ROTC Commission. The Institute was just what I wanted, with a horse cavalry ROTC program, Every Boy Rides, and a top reputation for preparing its cadets for the United States Military Academy. From grade school on, I had aspired to be a soldier and West Point was the goal.

After Pearl Harbor, all of the senior ROTC cadets at NMMI were sworn into the United States Army as enlisted reservists as part of the ROTC program leading to a commission. Our ROTC contracts, as we later learned, were for the convenience of the Government. As the war intensified, we were all called to active duty with a reporting date of 15 June 1943, at Fort Bliss, Texas. Judging from the fighting that had already taken place in Africa, it was obvious the Horse Cavalry was being replaced by Armored Forces. Fifteen percent of my class was selected to transition into Armor at Fort Knox, Kentucky, with orders to proceed from Fort Bliss to Fort Knox for basic training. Needless to say, I was delighted and anxious to get into the fight (what a contrast with the young people of the sixties, seventies and later). I had three years of ROTC training under my belt and was anxious to get into tanks.

So with my classmates, I reported to the Induction Center at Fort Bliss for the routine processing on the fifteenth of June 1943. Everything went normally until the evening of the nineteenth, Juneteenth Day, the day that blacks were emancipated in Texas. I was vaguely aware of this day as many of my classmates at the Institute hailed from the Lone Star State. By the 19th, I had completed my processing and was scheduled to leave for Fort Knox on the following morning by train. The 19th was a typical hot day at Fort Bliss, with no air conditioning and crowded facilities since there was a massive buildup for the fighting going on in Europe as well as the Pacific. The sprawling Fort was crowded with new inductees and various units headed for combat.

As ROTC inductees, we knew how to shoot and salute and wear the uniform properly. After completing our processing, we were given an evening pass to go into the city of El Paso, Texas. I looked forward to escaping the heat of the tar-paper hutments where we were billeted and relishing the opportunity to have a last chance at the Mexican food that I had been raised on in New Mexico.

After a quiet dinner and a movie in an air-conditioned environment (I can’t remember the movie), I proceeded to the pickup stop for an Army bus that would return me to the Induction Center. As I recall, my pass was good until midnight. It was about ten o’clock when I boarded the bus with a number of other soldiers returning to Fort Bliss. I was tired from all the day’s activity and immediately dozed off, as it was a thirty-minute drive to the Fort.

I was rudely awakened when the bus came to a sudden halt. We were under gun fire. Looking out the window of the bus, I saw black MPs (military police) and other black soldiers firing at the bus. The bus driver had stalled the bus, and we were surrounded by black soldiers screaming and yelling. The soldier sitting next to me on the bus had been wounded in the head by one of the rounds and was bleeding profusely. I immediately dived to the floor of the bus and became aware that in all the confusion, a Second Lieutenant was crawling over our bodies to the driver’s seat, where he pushed the panic-stricken driver out of the way and drove the bus through the crowd. After a few yards, we were met by white MPs who were moving in to disperse the black troops who had mutinied. The bus was stopped and the wounded personnel removed. Although I was covered by blood, I was mercifully unhurt. Returning to my orderly room, I exchanged my bloody uniform for a new set of khakis. Later, I was told that the troops that had mutinied were black quartermaster pack (mule) troops slated to ship out for the China-Burma-India Theatre.

The next day I shipped out for Fort Knox, so I was never able to learn what really happened to cause this outbreak of violence. I do know that I was appalled and shaken, feeling that if that was the way my Army career was starting, I was in for one hell of a time. Looking back, I could say that this was perhaps a harbinger for