Sleepless In Korea 1950

As we approach Memorial Day 2008, I dedicate this brief narrative to my fellow marines who shared this daunting experience during Korean War.

I was a marine rifleman in Item Company, 3rd Battalion, Fifth Marine Regiment in Korea. There we engaged three deadly enemies during the winter of 1950: North Korean guerrillas, the Chinese Communist army and the debilitating effects of frigid weather.

While we were issued hooded alpaca lined parkas and shoe-pacs with felt inserts to tolerate the snow and biting cold during daylight hours of constant marching, the hours of darkness presented new and unique challenges. After shivering through a long watch that depended more on a keen ear than our eyes trying to penetrate the wall of darkness that surrounded us, crawling into a dirty dank sleeping bag with the extra warmth it provided was a small but welcomed treat. We alway left our bags unzipped so we could break out of them quickly. The enemy favored making night assaults.

One night in mid December, we were suddenly hit with a relentless cold heavy rainfall that soaked through our clothing causing our bodies to shake to a point bordering on hypothermia. Even our sleeping bags, our refuge of warmth, were drenched and rendered useless. With daylight came the dreaded order to move out and with it the scary realization that these heavy waterlogged items of essential gear had to be left behind. "Deep six it," was the term used back then.

During the three long sleepless nights that followed, while holding the commanding high ground that afforded us a good field of fire, members of our squad sat huddled closely together trying to maintain body heat. I think what kept our spirits up was our constant whispered conversation about personal things that gave us valid reasons to keep awake and stay alive.

Finally, day four broke clear and cold as our column moved through a clearing where a U.S. Marine Headquarters unit had set up operations. As we passed the far side of their big squad tent, my eye caught sight of a cluster of familiar looking objects lined up neatly on the ground...they were sleeping bags. I noticed that one bag had a torn dirty white tag tied to it. I immediately went over and read the faintly legible writing on that fragment of paper. It was my name, Pfc. T.Foley.

We never did find out how those now dry sleeping bags got to where we found them. I'm sure that each man in the squad expressed in his own way a prayer of thanksgiving for their timely return. Even now. 58 years later, as I prepare to slide beneath warm cozy blankets on a blustery Maine winter night, I often recall those miserable nights and those young men like Clarence Lyle Pogenpole, Bobby Jack Shelton and Forest E. Wood and others whose names have long faded from memory...LONG LIFE AND STAY WARM MARINES.

Story ID:	3897
Written by:	Tom Foley (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Biography
Location:	Somewhere Korea
Year:	1950
Person:	Me