Korean War Memories

By Jeffrey Hoy

War is hell, and most combat veterans keep their personal hells to themselves. My father was no different, only opening up to me when his time on Earth drew near. He dictated many hours of tapes regarding his service in the Army, and I transcribed them into this memoir. As to be expected, some of his stories are horrific, while others are humorous. But that is the nature of humans, to see both sides of the coin in the midst of turmoil and tragedy. This story is both for those who have experienced similar travails, and those who wish to understand what many of our servicemen have gone through for the sake of their country and fellow citizens. I wish to thank my dad--and all other veterans--for their service and sacrifice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeffrey Hoy
• Release date: Jun 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224088263

Book preview

Korean War Memories

As told to

Jeffrey J Hoy

By

Donald J Hoy

You know the old cliché—we attack at dawn. Well, it’s true. It was early February of 1951, and the 224th battalion hadn’t been on the MLR (Main Line of Resistance)—what most people would call the ‘front lines’—for very long, and we were about to be tested in combat. This was our first major action. We were going to attack the Chinese directly, in force, in broad daylight, and let me tell you, I was scared to death. I don’t care how well-trained or confident you are, your first real combat is enough to give you a heart attack.

We were inexperienced troops, but after five months of intense training in the States and another ten in Japan, we were told we were the best-trained ‘green’ soldiers in all of Korea. Of course, they probably said the same thing to all the soldiers going into combat!

We began to filter through our lines before the sky started brightening in the east. It was below-freezing, about five degrees or so—what my grandson would call ‘butt cold’—and the black sky was filled with a million twinkling stars. It was going to be a clear, sunny day, and I remember thinking it was much too beautiful to start killing each other. But it wasn’t our choice. No one asked us what we thought. I knew there was a distinct possibility that this would be the last night I saw on Earth, and as magnificent and star-studded a night as it was, I certainly didn’t want it to be my last. Unfortunately, for some it would be.

As the sun came up our artillery barrage began, the rumbling of 105-mm and 155-mm howitzers far behind us sounding like distant thunder, while the dull thump of 4.2-inch Heavy Mortars added to the din. The shells screamed overhead, raining down on top of the Chinese positions, softening them up. ‘Preparatory fire’ they called it, but there’s no way you could be prepared for destruction like that.

I had seen war movies before, and knew what to expect, but this was more impressive than I ever could have imagined. It was like a dirty, dusty 4th of July, all flash and bang and fire and smoke, and gouts of dirt and rocks flying up in the air. I had to remind myself that there were men dying beneath that staggering barrage. It suddenly wasn’t such a peaceful, beautiful day anymore.

The artillery pounded the ridge for what seemed like hours, but was certainly only minutes. Then the word came down: attack. I don’t like that word. Never did, but especially now. We were assembled at our LD, our line of departure, on the near side of the valley, and ready to go. Physically, at least. Mentally, I wanted to go back to my nice, safe foxhole, which up until now I had been cursing on a daily basis. Hell, make that hourly!

We ran across that valley and the frozen river as fast as we could, heading for the relative cover at the bottom of the slopes we would soon be ascending. We began receiving small arms fire the moment we hit the valley floor. The platoon to our