August 2021 – Fix Bayonets!

The England Raid

Overview

Within American naval history, John Paul Jones is one of the more revered Revolutionary War heroes. How esteemed is John Paul Jones in Navy society? Such that his remains are today enshrined at the United States Naval Academy, Annapolis, Maryland.

Today, it is possible to observe not one but two John Paul Jones. The first Jones is the man who saw in himself a hero and a gentleman, one who, despite his low birth, glorified in his ability to rise to high social rank. While there is little doubt that Jones’s accomplishments in service to the American Revolution were impressive, there was another Jones: arrogant, quarrelsome, immature, rash, and dishonest. As one example, John Paul Jones designed a fake coat of arms to push forward his agenda. He did this by combining the coat of arms of Paul with those of Jones — neither of which he could rightly claim. His crass behavior sullied his reputation. He was not someone to invite to a dinner party; he was inconsiderate, tiresome, and he would likely steal the silverware.

There are two groups of John Paul Jones “experts.” The first consists of those who rely too heavily upon the personal (and deeply exaggerated) stories told by John Paul Jones himself; the second group involves those who believe that the life and times of Captain Jones deserve deeper reflection. As an example, early historians declare John Paul Jones as the father of the American Navy. This claim is altogether untrue — but even worse, it is a claim so often repeated that it serves as an insult to those other early gentlemen who served with equal distinction.[1]

This so-called standard-bearer of the Continental Navy was named John Paul at birth. John had family living in the American colonies. His brother William Paul settled near present-day Fredericksburg, Virginia. When John was thirteen years old, his father apprenticed him to a sea captain named Benson, master of the commercial ship Friendship, which took John Paul to the Americas as part of a circuitous trade route.

Commercial shipping in those days was profitable for ship’s officers and crew because, in addition to the standard pay rate, ship’s owners often paid bonuses as a percentage of the cargo’s profits. Between 1760 and 1768, John Paul served on several commercial ships. In 1764, he served as Third Mate aboard King George. In 1766, while serving aboard Two Friends, Paul advanced to First Mate. In 1768, he abandoned that profitable position and returned to Scotland to seek a new appointment. Later that year, while serving aboard the brig John at sea, the ship’s captain died from Yellow Fever. Paul successfully navigated the ship back to port. The ship’s owners were so pleased that they rewarded John by giving him command of the vessel and a guaranteed percentage of its profits. He made two successful journeys to the West Indies in that capacity.

During the third voyage in 1770, one of the ship’s crew initiated a mutiny over crew wages. Jones, then 23-years old, had the crewman flogged. The flogging was severe, but what killed the man was Yellow Fever. As it happened, the crewman was the son of a wealthy Scottish family. Upon return to port, authorities arrested Paul, and he spent some time in prison until granted bail. Although the crewman died of disease, the flogging incident damaged Paul’s reputation. The incident prompted John Paul to change his name to John Paul Jones.

A second incident occurred while in command of the commercial ship Betsy when a crewman initiated a mutiny over crew wages. Jones killed this crewman, whose name was Blackton, by running him through with a sword. Jones later claimed the killing was in self-defense, but at the time, Jones refused to submit to the authority of an Admiral’s court. Jones instead went to Virginia to help manage the affairs of his brother William, who had died intestate.

With the supporting endorsement of Richard Henry Lee, a Virginia statesman and signer of the Declaration of Independence, Jones successfully applied for a commission in the Continental Navy. Congress offered a lieutenant’s commission to Jones in December 1775; his first assignment was the 24-gun frigate, USS Alfred. After Alfred’s raid in Nassau, the Congresses Naval Committee appointed Jones to command the sloop USS Providence. By the end of 1776, after seizing sixteen British vessels, Jones earned the reputation of a daring and resourceful officer.

USS Ranger was a 116-foot long sloop of war weighing around 314 tons. The Continental Navy first commissioned this ship in 1777 and appointed John Paul Jones to command her. On the ship’s first voyage across the Atlantic Ocean as a packet carrier, carrying messages to Benjamin Franklin in Paris, Jones captured two British vessels and sold them in France. Arriving in France, Ranger was the first American navy ship to receive a salute from a foreign navy vessel.

In 1777, however, the French monarch had not decided to support the rebellious Americans. The United States Minister to France, Benjamin Franklin, may have hedged his bet on the outcome of the American independence movement by establishing regular communications with British Prime Minister Frederick (Lord) North — or he may have initiated correspondence with North for no other purpose than to increase pressure on the French to support American independence. If it was the second reason, it worked. French statesman Charles Gravier, Count Vergennes, concerned that the American rebels and the British might solve their differences, urged King Louis XVI to support the American independence cause. When the French government communicated its intent to help the Americans, Benjamin Franklin assumed (as an extension of his position as America’s foreign minister to France) the role of advanced base force commander.

Jones arrived in France believing that he would command L’Indien, an American ship under construction in Amsterdam.[2] Jones made several efforts to press Franklin on this matter, but he was always put off and instructed to bide his time; he would receive his orders in due course.

On 16th January 1778, Benjamin Franklin summoned Jones to Paris. Among Jones’s instructions, Franklin ordered him to equip his ship (Ranger) and prepare for operations against the British mainland. As opportunity presented itself, Jones would assault British shipping and coastal settlements as a means of creating havoc among “enemies of the United States,” by sea or otherwise, consistent with the laws of war.

Franklin further directed Jones that since France was still a neutral power, he must avoid returning to France upon completion of his mission. Franklin knew that the United States and France had reached an alliance agreement, but ratification of the accord was still pending. Franklin and Silas Deane then sternly admonished Jones to give no offense to the subjects of France or any other neutral power lest he destroys any pendant diplomatic framework.

John Paul Jones, having accepted the views of Robert Morris, believed that effective use of the American navy entailed sending ships against an unsuspecting British enemy, to surprise them, to divert the enemy’s attention away from America’s seacoast, and force them to defend their coastal ports and settlements. This, too, appears to have been the brainchild of Benjamin Franklin and Silas Deane in Paris.

It was several more weeks before Ranger was ready to sail. The ship, although only recently commissioned, required new sails. Shipwrights mounted Swivel guns in the fighting tops, altered bow ports to allow firing over the bow, and reprovisioning.

But Captain Jones did not command a happy ship. Ranger‘s officers were tired of Jones’s dalliances in Nantes and Loire, and they had no confidence in their captain’s “crazy schemes.” Jones’s officers believed that his poorly contrived ideas would only bring them into mortal danger without the benefit of any subsequent prize money. While still in Portsmouth, as part of his recruiting campaign, Jones promised his officers that they would make a fortune from seizing ships and selling them. Still, so far in the Atlantic assignment, the crew had not received a single farthing after taking two enemy ships.[3]

There was another problem, as well. The Naval officers serving aboard USS Ranger thoroughly detested the Marine commanding officer, Captain Matthew Parke. Captain Parke intended to enforce the observance of proper decorum among the ship’s company. He insisted, for example, on being addressed by his rank. Ship’s officers complained, “Since no captain of Marines is allowed to any ship or vessel under twenty guns, we take it as hardship peculiar to us, that a person in his capacity should remain in the ship to take the fourth part of the three twentieths which are the shares belonging solely to us (as lieutenants and master of the ship) of any prize money to be divided for her Officers and men.” The navy officers wanted to dispose of Parke and so requested that Captain Jones do so.

Captain Parke, fully aware of this animosity, submitted his resignation to Captain Jones, who, although disgusted with his lieutenants, accepted Parke’s resignation “with regret.” When Ranger arrived in Brest, Jones discharged Parke and replaced him with an army lieutenant named Jean Meijer.

When asked to explain his operational plan to Lieutenant Général le Comte d’Orviliers (Commander of the French Fleet at Brest), Jones proposed to descend upon some part of England, destroy merchant shipping, and kidnap a member of the nobility as a means of guaranteeing the lives (or possible exchange) of imprisoned Americans in England.[4] Shortly afterward, Jones received orders to move Ranger to the Bay of Brest where the crew might enjoy liberty ashore and partake of French allurements. Several of the crew, including Marines, took this opportunity to abandon naval service.

As Ranger made final preparations for sea, Marine Second Lieutenant Samuel Wallingford drilled the Ranger’s Marines in small arms proficiency. The ship sailed on 8 April 1778. On the 10th, Jones captured a brigantine carrying flaxseed, seized the cargo, and sank the vessel. On the 17th, he seized a merchantman. He detailed a prize crew to return the cargo ship to Brest. A British revenue vessel challenged Ranger the next day but quickly withdrew when Jones went to battle stations. Ranger’s surgeon later criticized Jones for not employing his Marines to fire into the cutter, as in his opinion, Jones could have quickly taken the enemy vessel.

On 19 April, Captain Jones seized a schooner and a sloop near the entrance of Firth of Clyde. When Jones decided to sink both ships, his officers threw a tantrum. The next day, while operating offshore from Carrickfergus, Jones learned from a fishing vessel that HMS Drake, a 20-gun sloop, was anchored nearby. Jones decided to target Drake for a cutting out — but his officers refused. They consented, instead, to surprise the British ship by entering the lough and anchoring to her windward side, which would expose the ship to Jones’ musketry. Owing to poor weather, Jones decided to abandon his Plan B.

Operation Whitehaven

Whitehaven, England — on the northwest coast — was a small, insignificant port town. A man like Stephen Decatur Sr. would never think of attacking Whitehaven. On the other hand, Jones knew the British Isles like the back of his hand, and Whitehaven was the place from which he first began his maritime career.

By 22nd April, with the understanding that several commercial ships were at anchor at Whitehaven, Captain Jones prepared to execute a raid. His officers, however, saw no point in the attack because it promised neither prize money nor naval advantage. Navy lieutenants Thomas Simpson and Elijah Hall fomented rebellion among the crew. Jones later observed that these men were inferior officers, for rather than building morale, they excited the men toward disobedience to orders. Simpson and Hall managed to convince the crew that Ranger was a voting precinct, with the right to judge for themselves whether the captain’s plan was a good one. Jones contributed to these officer’s further insubordination by failing to press the matter.

The raid on Whitehaven may have been audacious, but it was poorly executed and its result embarrassing. As Ranger approached Solway Firth, the wind died away, and the ship was left to languish in swells. At midnight, still, several miles away from Whitehaven, Jones ordered two boats lowered. He would command one, with Lieutenant Meijer serving as his assistant; Second Lieutenant Wallingford would command the other boat, with Midshipman Benjamin Hill as his second. In total, thirty men manned the boats. It took several hours for both boats to arrive at the outer pier.

By then, dawn was just breaking. Without any noticeable concern about his discovery, Jones sent Wallingford’s boat to the northern end of the harbor with orders to set fire to the estimated 150 merchant ships at anchor. Jones and his men scaled the port’s southern battery walls, spiked the guns, and apprehended four sentinels found asleep on post. When Jones returned to his boat, he expected to see dozens of ships on fire — there were none. Wallingford explained that he had lost his “fire” to light the ships. Jones managed to set one ship on fire before realizing that the town was now up and about, and, as a deserter alerted the town that a raid was in progress, defenders began assembling along the water’s edge.

Captain Jones decided it was time to withdraw his raiders. As the American navy rowed back to Ranger, the townspeople fired cannon at them and an occasional pistol, causing no damage to the raiding party. Jones and his weary men arrived back aboard the ship at around 0700.[5]

The second stage of Jones’s plan was to sail across to St. Mary’s Isle, where he hoped to kidnap the Earl of Selkirk and carry him to France as a hostage for the better treatment of American prisoners. The landing party included Jones, Wallingford, Ship’s Master David Cullam, and a dozen Marines and sailors. After assigning one man to guard the boat, Jones led his party toward the Selkirk manor.

Jones led his party ashore with Wallingford, Ship’s Master David Cullam, and a dozen sailors and Marines. After posting a sentry to guard the boat, Jones led his party toward the Selkirk manor. En route, Jones learned from the gardener that the Earl was away from home. His mission a failure, Jones turned about intending to return to the ship. Master Cullam objected, however, arguing that he and his crew should be allowed to loot the house. Jones acquiesced, insofar as the sailors would be allowed to steal the silver, but nothing more.

Lady Selkirk handed over her silver upon Cullam’s demand. In her later testimony, Lady Selkirk described Master Cullam as a disagreeable-looking man with the look of a blackguard. On the other hand, she was quite impressed with Marine lieutenant Wallingford. She characterized him as “…a civil young man, in a green uniform, an anchor on his buttons, which were white,” and “he seemed naturally well-bred and not to like his employment.” After filling several sacks of silver, Cullam and Wallingford accepted Lady Selkirk’s offer of a glass of wine, and they returned to the ship.

Conclusion

The Whitehaven raid was barely a footnote in history; the value of damage to enemy ships, cannon, and Lady Selkirk’s stolen silver was minuscule. The operation did qualify as an early land action involving Continental Marines, but it was nothing worth remembering.

Conversely, the effects of Jones’s raid were tremendous. The London Chronicle reported the raid stating, “A number of expresses have been dispatched to all capital seaports in the kingdom where any depredations are likely to be made; all strangers in this town are, but an order of the magistrates, to be secured and examined; similar notices have been forwarded through the country and, in short, every caution taken that the present alarming affair could suggest.”

Jones’s Whitehaven raid so aroused England that the Admiralty was forced to recall ships operating off the American seacoast to patrol the United Kingdom’s lengthy coastline — as Benjamin Franklin and Silas Deane knew it would.

Sources:

Feld, J. John Paul Jones’s Locker: The Mutinous Men of the Continental Ship Ranger and the Confinement of Lieutenant Thomas Simpson. Washington: Naval History and Heritage Command, 2017.
Hill, F. S. Twenty-six Historic Ships: The story of certain famous vessels of war and of their successors in the navies of the United States and of the Confederate States of America from 1775-1902. New York: Putnam, 1903.
Smith, C. R. Marines in the Revolution: A History of the Continental Marines in the American Revolution, 1775-1783. Washington: Headquarters, U. S. Marine Corps, 1975.
Griffiths, J. The 1778 Whitehaven Raid. United Kingdom History (online), 2015.
U. S. Continental Congress, Journals of the Continental Congress, 1774-1789. W. C. Ford & Gaillard Hunt, eds. Library of Congress, 1904-37.

Endnotes:

[1] Esek Hopkins, John Burroughs Hopkins, Abraham Whipple, Stephen Decatur, Sr., and Nicholas Biddle.

[2] Indien, later commissioned South Carolina was captured by the British in 1782.

[3] A farthing was valued at one-quarter of a penny.

[4] The poor treatment of Americans under lock and key in England was well known to American sailors. Jones apparently hoped to change Britain’s neglect of humanitarian treatment of its prisoners.

[5] As a demonstration of varying perspectives about the same event, British historians claim that on their way to the port, Jones’s men became distracted by the strong allure of the nearby public house. It was here that this half of the crew became intoxicated and were unable to complete their mission. American historians of the same period argue that heavy rain and gales stopped the operation in its tracks. The weather conditions were so bad that none of the men were able to strike a light to set the ships on fire.

Chaplain

Background

In the days of the Merovingian dynasty (c. 450 – 751 AD), when Latin was still the language of the high-born, some people were called cappellani. In the fourth century, the word referred to priests who dedicated themselves to preserving the religious relics of St. Martin of Tours. St. Martin (b. 316 – d. 397 AD) was the patron saint of France, the father of the monastic life in Gaul, and the first “great leader” of Western Monasticism. One of these relics was St. Martin’s half-cape (cappella). St. Martin’s Cappella gave its name to the tent, later chapel, where the Cappella was preserved — over time, adding religious relics to the collection. During the Carolingian dynasty (751 – 880 AD), and in particular, during the reign of Charlemagne, the priests who guarded St. Martin’s relics were called, in Old French, Chapelain.

In those days, Chaplains were appointed by the King, later Holy Roman Emperor. They lived in the palace, and in addition to guarding the sacred relics, performed mass for the monarch on feast days, worked with the royal notaries[1] , and prepared any documents the emperor required of them. In these duties, Chaplains gradually evolved into ecclesiastical and secular advisors to the king/emperor. It became a tradition throughout western Christendom for monarchs to appoint their own chaplains. Many of these chaplains became bishops. This tradition continues today, as evidenced by the fact that the British Crown appoints members of the Royal College of Chaplains, although they no longer serve as the official keepers of records.

In modern usage, the term chaplain no longer addresses itself to any particular church or denomination. Clergy and ministers appointed to various institutions (cemeteries, prisons, legislatures, hospitals, colleges, embassies, legations, and within the armed forces) are called chaplains.

Chaplains serve in the armed forces of most countries, usually as commissioned officers. They are non-combatants and, as such, are not required to bear arms. They may bear arms, if they choose, in defense of themselves and the sick or wounded.[2] In the United States, Roman Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, and Moslem chaplains serve as chaplains in the Army, Navy, and Air Force. Navy Chaplains provide the ecclesiastical needs of the Marine Corps.

U. S. Armed Forces chaplains provide religious services and advise their commander and fellow staff officers on religion, morality, and ethics. They offer counseling services to service members and their families, operate pre-marriage counseling programs, make regular visitations to the sick and wounded, and provide opportunities for prayer services and last rites. The Army, Navy, and Air Force Chief of Chaplains provide similar advice to the U. S. Secretary of Defense.

All military chaplains must be ordained and endorsed by a recognized religious organization. A military chaplain’s rank is determined by years of service and criteria established by the military organization in which commissioned. Chaplains are recognized in uniform by rank and religious affiliation. The symbol for Christian Chaplains is the Roman Cross; a symbol of the Ten Commandments identifies Jewish Chaplains. Moslem Chaplains wear a crescent as their religious symbol.

On 29 July 1775, the Continental Congress established the military chaplaincy, but chaplains did not wear a symbol of their faith until 1880. In 1835, Army regulations required chaplains to wear black uniform coats without shoulder boards or symbols of rank. The first symbol for chaplain was a shepherd’s crook or staff, approved in 1880; the Latin Cross replaced the shepherd crook was adopted in 1898. The first Jewish Chaplain was appointed during the American Civil War, but it wasn’t until World War I that Jewish Chaplains had their own religious symbol.

Navy Chaplains

On 28 November 1775, the Continental Navy published its regulations provided that, “The Commanders of the ships of the Thirteen United Colonies are to take care that divine service be performed twice a day on board, and a sermon preached on Sundays unless bad weather or other extraordinary accidents prevent.” The Navy recognized the need for chaplains but did not foresee a requirement for uniformed attire or insignia of rank or religious affiliation until 1847. At that time, the prescribed uniform was a black coat with a black collar and cuffs with no insignia. In 1864, the Navy Department authorized Navy Chaplains to wear the standard uniform of commissioned officers and the symbol of the Latin Cross. Essentially, Navy chaplains served “as officers without rank.”

In 1905, Navy Uniform Regulations provided that Chaplains would have ranks equivalent to line officers; they were to wear the standard navy officer’s uniform with the service braid in lustrous black (not gold as with line officers). The Navy later modified this requirement in 1918 to include both the officer rank insignia and a gold cross.

Naval Staff Corps regulations discontinued the black braid and replaced it with the same gold braid worn by other officers – along with the Latin Cross.

In modern times, the Navy accepts clergy from religious denominations and faith groups, but an applicant’s request is contingent upon a favorable recommendation by their religious governing authority. An applicant must meet the Navy’s requirements, including appropriate age and physical fitness. Even after acceptance, the endorsing religious authority can revoke their endorsement at any time, the effect of which leads to the separation of the chaplain from naval service.

An applicant for service as a chaplain in the Navy must be a US citizen, be at least 21 years old, hold a post-graduate degree which includes 72-hours of study in theology, religious philosophy, ethics, and foundational writing. Upon acceptance and commission, chaplains attend the Navy Chaplain School at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. There is also a Chaplain Candidate Program Officer program for seminary students interested in obtaining a commission before completing their graduate studies.

The modern mission for Navy chaplains includes religious ministry, religious facilitation for all religious beliefs, caring for Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard personnel (and their families), advising their commanding officers in spiritual matters, promote ethical and moral behavior, increase combat readiness through ministerial programs, improve morale and retention, and employ modern technology to support their missions. Assisting Navy chaplains are enlisted religious program specialists.

Several Navy chaplains have distinguished themselves in combat, including Lieutenant Vincent Capodanno (Medal of Honor), Lieutenant Commander Joseph T. O’Callahan (Medal of Honor), Commander George S. Rentz (Navy Cross), Lieutenant Thomas N. Conway (Navy Cross),[3] and Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Aloysius H. Schmitt (Silver Star). Navy ships were named in honor of O’Callahan, Rentz, and Schmitt.

There has seldom been a Navy chaplain far from the forward edge of the battle area, whether serving aboard ship or in the field with the Marines. Pictured right, Navy chaplains conduct religious serves on Mount Suribachi, on Iwo Jima, Easter Sunday, 1945.

My personal salute to all military chaplains, particularly those of the U. S. Navy who, at the risk of their own lives, provide injured and dying Marines with comfort in their final moments. In many cases, the face of a Navy Chaplain or a Navy Corpsman is the last face our mortally wounded Marines see.

Sources:

Burgsma, H. L. Chaplains with Marines in Vietnam (1962-1971). Washington: Headquarters, U. S. Marine Corps, 1985.
Drury, C. M. History of the Chaplain Corps. Washington: Navy Publications Center, 1994.

[1] In Gaul and early France, the title of Notary was an employee of the Royal Chancelleries, titled “Notaries of the King” and served as scribes in the royal seigniorial and communal courts of justice who maintained records of all official proceedings.

[2] I have only known one chaplain who wore a sidearm in combat – a Presbyterian.

[3] A Catholic Priest, Lieutenant Conway was assigned as the chaplain aboard USS Indianapolis when a Japanese submarine torpedoed the vessel off the Philippine Island of Leyte on 30 July 1945. More than 800 crewmen were forced into the ocean, some of whom were badly injured, and remained at the mercy of nature for three days. These men were severely dehydrated and suffered numerous shark attacks. Only 316 men survived the ordeal. Conway was recognized for swimming through shark infested waters to administer to suffering crewmen, saving as many as 67 men. Conway was one of the crew who didn’t survive; he stood by these men when they needed him most. His award was delayed for 75 years, finally presented to family members on 8 January 2021.

The Playboy Club

The entry to the Playboy Club was not what you might suspect. No sophisticated foyer with muted music and a warm greeting by a Bunny that an aerospace engineer would reject due to her high drag profile. Our entry had curious names, like the Bicycle Seat, the Heart, the Parrot’s Beak, or the Light Bulb. Through those doorways, we entered the Ho Chi Minh Trail area in Laos, adjacent to the North-South Vietnamese demilitarized zone.

The names referred to geographical landmarks easily made out from the air, shaped like the title they carried. We flew the TA-4 aircraft; our mission was high speed, low-level visual reconnaissance. In short, we were after intelligence concerning troop movements, truck parks, supply areas, guns—anything to help take the guesswork out of the command estimate of enemy capabilities.

We weren’t always called Playboys. In 1966, we used the call sign Condole and did mostly support work: calling in close air support, adjusting artillery, and coordinating naval gunfire. Some referred to us as “Fast FAC,” or fast moving forward air controllers. We used a trusty old two-seater called the TF-9J Cougar, which proved slow and ill designed for mission requirements. The most frequent gripe was the radio: we had to wire an infantry backpack PRC-25 radio to the glare shield in the back seat, remove the flight helmet, and talk over a hand-held mike.

In 1969, the tandem seat TA-4 Skyhawk replaced the Cougar, and with it came the call sign “Playboy.”

We were a rag tag outfit, much like Pappy Boyington’s Black Sheep in World War II. We became an integral part of the Marine Air Group’s Headquarters and Maintenance Squadron (H&MS), which performed the important job of intermediate maintenance for the fighter and attack squadrons within the Group. In that respect, it was NOT rag tag. When it came to flying, the aircrews came from everywhere. Usually they were shuffling paper in a staff section somewhere within the Air Wing. The nucleus was, of course, a handful of pilots assigned to H&MS.

The men who joined the Da Nang Playboy Club were volunteers, and carefully screened by the skipper. The crews were selected based on reputation, experience (one previous combat tour), and demonstrated professionalism. Initially composed of only pilots, four Naval Flight Officers (NFOs) were accepted during 1970. Three of the four were FAA rated pilots, and two of the three were eventually able to use their flying skills during the course of the program. Toward the end of the mission, the process of selecting pilots and aircrew was highly discriminating.

Our working area on the trail covered about 2,700 square miles, and we flew between one hundred and 1,500 feet above ground level as fast as that little bucket of bolts would go. It took quite a few flights before pilots and aircrew developed their 400-knot eyeball, but we did engage our targets, and we did collect valuable intelligence. The key to our mission effectiveness was “trail experience.” Aircrew eventually developed the capability of determining whether a group of bushes had moved from one day to the next, or if a clump of vegetation hadn’t been there the day before. Moving bushes usually received a bomb, or two.

And, we learned to respect the enemy. Under constant surveillance and attack, he moved people, supplies, and constructed vast road networks with only basic equipment. And he did this in a systematic and successful way against the most highly industrialized and technologically sophisticated nation in the world. From that experience came the frustrating question, “How can they do that when we’re working so hard to oppose them?” The answer is both simple and complex; it forms the basis of our question of involvement in the first place.

We considered ourselves an unusual group, yet looking back we were only a cross section from any town in the United States. We had a Baptist preacher, and a hard-drinking, cigar chewing poker player. Some of these men became legends in their own time, now forgotten except among their comrades.

In the 19 months of the Playboy operations, we lost only one aircraft. Rick Lewis won the Silver Star by helping his back-seater during a rescue effort, and calling in air strikes against enemy gun emplacements. Don Schwaby, in another incident, had just entered the operations area when a small arms round hit the nose of his aircraft, went through the instrument panel, and continued into his oxygen mask. The slug came to rest between his lips, against his teeth, and never even broke the skin. Not many guys catch bullets that way.

The only death that resulted from the program was a shock to the squadron. After operating for so long in such a high-threat environment, we all had taken several hits. But we all came back. After all, Rick Lewis was a walking example. Lieutenant Colonel George Ward, groomed to take command of the squadron in only a few weeks, was shot through the head while on a mission. The back-seater flew the plane back to the base. A squadron commander shapes the personality of his unit; we all felt his loss. Reacting to his loss, higher authority imposed an altitude restriction on the squadron —no lower than five grand. But that was too high to do the job, so back down into the grass we flew. Later, as I watched the evacuation of Saigon on television, I thought about George Ward.

The Playboy Program ended during September 1970. I returned to the 2nd Marine Aircraft Wing at Cherry Point, North Carolina in December of that year. For a long time, I felt that I had been involved in the most exciting, professionally demanding, and personally challenging era of my life. And I was content in the knowledge that, as Patton suggested, if my son asked me what I did in Viet Nam, I would NOT have to tell him, I shoveled shit in Louisiana.

In the years that have passed, several Playboys have tried to hold a reunion. It has never been successful. In the past, our duty assignments spread us so far apart, and since then we have all retired from active service. I’m quite certain our after-action reports gather dust in an obscure file drawer somewhere… As a group, we paid some very special dues to our country, to our Corps, and ourselves. Yet, if my son asks me what is or has been especially exciting to me as a Marine, I’ll have to answer, “The job I did today, and the one I get to do tomorrow.”

Semper Fidelis

Major Paul Webb Chapman, USMC (Retired)

Playboy 37

Blackie Cahill’s Fight

Some Background

At dawn on 25 June 1950, the North Korean People’s Army (NKPA) unleashed massive artillery fire into the Republic of (South) Korea (ROK). On the heels of the barrage, the NKPA invaded the ROK with a force of 135,000 troops organized into eight infantry divisions, 24 artillery regiments, 120 Soviet T-34 tanks, five constabulary brigades, and 180 Soviet aircraft.

Understandably, the South Korean people were terrified, illustrated by a massive surge of refugees heading south from Seoul to safer locations. However, they wouldn’t find any haven because the NKPA seized the ROK capital in two days and then continued their attack south. The communists intended to seize the entire Korean peninsula. Thousands of refugees preceded the NKPA forces — their legs moving as fast as possible to escape the slaughter. The people were terrified, and by mid-July 1950, the United States and South Korean governments had done nothing to allay those fears.

The U. S. Army occupation forces stationed in Japan did what they could to stop the invasion, but they were young soldiers, untrained, inexperienced, inadequately equipped, poorly led, and sent to confront the NKPA in insufficient strength to stop the onslaught. Throughout July, US Army forces experienced one defeat after another. In time, victory over the Americans is what the NKPA commanders came to expect.

Every day, thousands of refugees streamed into the southeastern city of Pusan, seeking protection. For the most part, the South Korean refugees were simple people. They didn’t understand any of the reasons for this sudden war. What they did know was that their lives were in jeopardy. They had witnessed the NKPA’s ruthlessness; they had seen American Army slaughtered and overwhelmed. The fear among the refugees was palpable. One American journalist noted that in Pusan, one could almost smell the fear in the people — their panic worsening with each passing day.

But then, beginning in the late afternoon of 2 August 1950, a remarkable and easily observable transition began taking shape. American ships began arriving in the port city of Pusan. The word went out. These ships were carrying United States Marines. People started crowding around the docks; they wanted to know more. Unloading operations began as soon as the ships tied up along a pier.

Early the next morning, Marines began to form upon the pier. They were dressed in combat uniforms, were well-armed, and carried field packs on their backs. There were close to 5,000 men when assembled—a color guard formed in front of the Brigade. A large crowd of Korean civilians stood back and observed the goings-on. The Koreans no doubt wondered if these soldiers would save them; they may have noted that if any of these American Marines were fearful, it didn’t show in their demeanor or expressions. Word quickly spread throughout the city. There was still hope.

Although the average age of these young men was only 19½ years, they exuded discipline, confidence, and determination. There was nothing timid about these youngsters; they understood their mission: find the enemy and kill him.[1] It didn’t take long for NKPA commanders to realize that the tide was turning against them.

While company and platoon officers and NCOs mustered Marines on the pier, their Commanding General, Brigadier General Edward A. Craig, concluded his meeting with his subordinate commanders and senior staff. Colonel (select) Raymond L. Murray commanded the 5th Marine Regiment. Lieutenant Colonel George Newton commanded 1st Battalion; Lieutenant Colonel Harold Roise commanded 2nd Battalion, and Lieutenant Colonel Robert Taplett[2] commanded 3rd Battalion. Craig issued his “commander’s guidance” (See also: The Fire Brigade), concluding with this strict admonition:

“The Pusan perimeter is like a weakened dike; the Army intends to use us to plug the holes as they open. We’re a brigade —a fire brigade. It will be costly fighting against a numerically superior enemy. Marines have never lost a battle; this Brigade will not be the first to establish such a precedent. Prepare to move.”

Within an hour, the Marines of the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade were en route toward a small town named Chang-won, the designated assembly area for the Eighth US Army reserve.

The Tactical Situation

The Battle of Osan was the first significant US engagement inf the Korean War. Headquarters, Eighth U.S. Army, ordered Task Force Smith (1st Battalion, 21st Infantry Regiment (reinforced)) (1/21 INF) to set up a blocking position against an overwhelming NKPA force on 5 July. It was an unreasonable assignment and failed to slow the NKPA assault for more than a couple of hours. Task Force Smith suffered 180 dead, wounded, scattered, and/or captured. NKPA soldiers bound some of the American prisoners with their hands behind their backs and then executed them.

As elements of the 24th Infantry Division (24 ID) arrived in Korea from Japan, the NKPA continued to press south, pushing American and South Korean forces back at Pyeongtaek, Cho-nan, and Chochiwon. At the Battle of Taejon, 24 ID suffered 3,602 dead and wounded. Nearly 3,000 U.S. soldiers were taken, prisoner. The NKPA continued their attack.

By the time the Marines arrived on 2 August Eighth Army’s position was unsustainable. US/ROK forces occupied a tiny section of the Pusan Perimeter’s southeast corner. General Walton H. Walker, commanding the Eighth Army, had traded space for time. All that remained in US hands was a small sector 90 miles long and 60 miles wide. General Douglas MacArthur, Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers (SCAP), ordered soldiers in by the thousands. Not only did Walker need fighting units, but he also needed replacements for the dead and wounded. The first to arrive included the 1st Cavalry Division (1 CAV), 2nd Infantry Division (2 ID), and 25th Infantry Division (25 ID).

Walker faced two critical challenges. First, because replacements were arriving in piecemeal fashion, General Walker could only plug them into units positioned at critical junctions. They could not attack the enemy; they could only hold these key positions — and even that was dicey. The second problem was that Walker’s reinforcements, while fresh from stateside or territorial commands, were still only minimally trained. Most of these men had no previous combat experience. Walker worried because if the Eighth Army lost the Pusan Perimeter, there would be no way to land further replacements or supplies — and no way to withdraw any survivors.

The Battle for Hill 342[3]

General Walker designated the 25th ID as Task Force Kean, after the division commander, Major General William B. Kean. Walker assigned Craig’s Brigade to reinforce Task Force Kean. Kean’s subordinate units included the 24 INF, 27 INF, 35 INF, and the 5th Regimental Combat Team (5 RCT).

On 6th August, Colonel Murray led his 5th Marines toward Chindong-ni. General Kean intended to replace the 27 INF with the 5th Marines. Lieutenant Colonel Taplett’s 3/5 (reinforced) moved toward Changwon to replace 2/27 INF on the line two miles outside Chindong-ni, where the road to Mason takes a sharp northward turn into the village of Tosan.[4]

Taplett effected the relief of 2/27 INF within two hours, establishing his command post (CP) on the first step of Hill 255 co-located with Weapons Company, 3/5.[5] Temporarily under the operational control of HQ 27 INF, Taplett answered to Colonel John H. Michaelis, the army regiment’s commander. Taplett’s mission was to provide a blocking force; he needed a tight defensive line to do that.

Lieutenant Colonel Taplett ordered Captain Fegan to set in his Company H (How Company) above his CP to have a good field of observation of enemy movements. Taplett directed First Lieutenant Robert D. Bohn, commanding Company G (George Company), to set in two rifle platoons on Hill 99, situated west of Hill 255, and one platoon on a small knoll at the base of Hill 255.

Lieutenant Bohn directed the 1st Platoon to take the knoll position. Commanding 1st Platoon was Second Lieutenant John J. H. Cahill, USMC.[6] Cahill’s platoon was reinforced by a 75mm recoilless rifle platoon.[7]

The six platoons of George and How companies shared a tactical area of responsibility (TAOR) extending some 3,000 yards. Taplett’s only reserve force consisted of the headquarters element.[8] Shortly after midnight on 7th August, Colonel Michaelis ordered Taplett to dispatch a rifle platoon to reinforce Baker Company, 1/27 INF atop Hill 342. Taplett contacted Colonel Murray (CO, 5th Marines) to argue that he could ill-afford lose one-sixth of his infantry force. Murray explained that General Dean had ordered Hill 342 held at all costs, and Taplett must provide the platoon.

Taplett assigned the mission to First Lieutenant Bohn; Bohn tasked Blackie Cahill.

Hill 342 was a massive molar-shaped structure rising steeply from the MSR west of Chindong-ni, extending northward 2,000 yards to another hill mass that was nearly 2,000 feet in elevation. Elements of the NKPA 6th Infantry Division occupied the second hill mass. The terrain was steep, the footing unsure, and the hillside inundated with shrub vegetation. Before leaving 3/5’s perimeter, Taplett ordered Cahill reinforced with a machinegun squad and a radio operator. None of Cahill’s men had more than a couple of hours of rest before embarking on this relief mission.

There was one minor glitch: Cahill reached Colonel Michaelis’ CP near a bridge south of Hill 99 at around 03:00. Michaelis being absent, the regimental operations officer directed Cahill to proceed 700 yards further down the MSR and reported to the CO 2nd Battalion, 5 RCT (2/5 RCT), whose CP was located just north of the MSR at the tip of Hill 342’s eastern-most base. The Army operations officer informed Cahill that he wasn’t reinforcing Company B; he was replacing it. 27 INF needed this rifle company as part of General Kean’s reserve force. 5 RCT could not relieve Company B because 5 RCT was scheduled to begin an offensive within a few hours.

2ndLt Cahill no doubt wondered how a rifle platoon could realistically replace an infantry company, but Cahill was a combat veteran, and he made no bones about it. After a quick briefing by an operations officer at 2/5 RCT’s CP, a guide led Cahill and his platoon northward, skirting the western base of Hill 352. A few hundred yards along, the army guide discovered that he had lost his way in the darkness. A few enemy artillery shells landed nearby, but there were no casualties. When Cahill’s column reached the end of the valley, rifle fire erupted, wounding two Marines. The army guide advised Cahill that he should not begin his climb until dawn because of the slippery footing and the nervous condition of Baker Company’s soldiers. At 0500, Cahill’s Marines had marched 3 miles from Hill 99.

At dawn, Cahill realized that the earlier rifle fire had come from soldiers of 2/5 RCT, spooked by the Marine’s movements in the pitch-black early morning hours. Cahill took the lead in the climb. At first, the Marines made good progress, but the heat soon became a war-stopper. The temperature was around 112 degrees. Cahill’s Marines began gasping for air, sweating profusely, and stumbling on the steep, slippery pathways. For every five steps upward, they slipped back three. Water discipline collapsed, and canteens soon emptied. It wasn’t long before Cahill’s Marines began collapsing from heat exhaustion, and some of these young men lost consciousness — they were on the verge of having a heat stroke. Cahill’s platoon became a ragged file, but as Cahill’s NCOs urged the men forward, Cahill increased his pace and proceeded to the crest of the hill.

Cahill finally reached Hill 342’s summit at around 08:30, where he met the Army company commander. The captain began briefing Cahill on his company’s defensive positions. Baker Company, he explained, had been under continuous enemy fire within their triangle-shaped perimeter. All three of the Company’s platoons were shattered. Just as Cahill’s platoon began straggling into the army perimeter, NKPA forces opened fire from well-concealed positions from an adjacent hill. Cahill’s NCOs quickly set the Marines into firing positions. So far, Cahill had lost one man killed, six others wounded. Considering both combat and heat casualties, Cahill’s 52-man platoon at the base of Hill 342 had only 37 effectives at its summit. NKPA intensive fire had a demoralizing effect on the soldiers, and it was all the unit’s officers could do to keep them in their defensive positions. In a brilliant move, Cahill suggested to the Army commander that he set Marines into positions among the soldiers. Cahill understood service rivalry; knowing that the soldiers and Marines were eyeing one another, service pride kicked in, and the troops on the line, both Army and Marine, settled down to the business at hand. Cahill lost two additional Marines to enemy fire as his NCOs were setting them into position.

Improvise — Adapt — Overcome

At noon, several companies of NKPA troops assaulted the summit of Hill 342 supported by intense machine gunfire. Despite the onslaught, Marines and soldiers delivered well-aimed return fire. However, the situation was desperate, and Baker Company was ordered by 5 RCT to remain in-place until a larger force of Marines could relieve them. 2ndLt Cahill used his radio to call in Army artillery support to silence enemy mortars. As the artillery unit registered its fires, Cahill looked for and spotted an enemy, forward observer. Yet, despite the artillery battery’s accurate barrage, NKPA mortars continued to rain down on the soldiers and Marines. Then, with water and ammunition becoming in short supply, Cahill radioed in for an airdrop. Within a short time, a USAF R4D flew over Hill 342 and dropped badly needed ammunition and water — the resupply landed amid the enemy positions.

Cahill was back on the radio in short order. 1stMarBde handed the resupply mission to Marine Observation Squadron (VMO)-6, whose OY-2 aircraft dropped ammunition and water inside the Baker Company perimeter. But, as the water cans hit the earth, most exploded, and the Marines and soldiers had to make do with only a few mouthfuls of water each. Cahill’s Sergeant Macy volunteered to lead a patrol in search of water. With permission granted, Macy and a few volunteers descended the southeastern slope under enemy fire, lugging 5-gallon cans along with them. Meanwhile, the NKPA was working to surround and cut off Hill 342

While Cahill was making his way toward Hill 342, the rest of Taplett’s 3/5 (set in along the base of Hill 255) came under enemy mortar fire beginning at around 02:30 on 7 August. Taplett was anxious about the situation with Cahill, but there was nothing he could do about it until sun up.

At around 02:00, Lieutenant Colonel Roise’s 2/5 began moving by truck to its terminus at the base of Hill 255. NKPA delivered devastating mortar fire. Roise was fortunate to lose only one Marine killed and eleven wounded — including Captain George E. Kittredge, the CO of Easy Company, 2/5. Once 2/5 arrived in the vicinity of Hill 255, operational control of 2/5 and 3/5 reverted to Colonel Murray. Murray ordered Roise to occupy Hill 99. After repositioning 1/5, George Company 3/5 rejoined Taplett’s main body.

General Keane planned for 5 RCT to begin its assault at 0500, but the advance was stopped cold in the first hour. The NKPA were not particularly impressed with Kean’s assault; they launched an attack of their own. Cahill’s fight on Hill 342 constrained the entire 2nd Battalion, 5 RCT, in its attempt to hold open the Chinju Road. Attaching Cahill’s platoon to Baker Company — and leaving the army company in place — was helping to do that, but the 5 RCT’s second battalion was temporarily lost to the regiment.

General Keane was desperate. He ordered Murray to provide a battalion to relieve 2/5 RCT, and the mission assigned to 1/5. Colonel Roise’s mission was to relieve the army battalion and clear the area of enemy forces. Keane then ordered Craig to assume command of all forward units in the Chindong-ni area.[9]

When 2/5 reached the base of Hill 342, Colonel Roise ordered Dog Company to ascend the north fork toward Hill 342’s eastern spur and seize both the spur and the great hill. First Lieutenant William E. Sweeney, newly appointed commander of Easy Company, was ordered to pass behind Sangnyong-ni and seize the western spur. It was a wide dispersal of a light battalion, but Murray needed Roise to protect the valley between the two spurs and this was the only way he could do it. The CO of D Company was Captain John Finn. As the company ascended Hill 342, the Marines, having spent a sleepless night, began to experience the effects of rapidly increasing heat. Thirty minutes into the climb, Finn’s Marines encountered rifle and machine gun fire. Roise’s Operations Officer, Major Morgan J. McNeely, had previously told Finn that he would encounter no organized enemy resistance. The constant chatter of Chinese-made burp guns proved McNeely wrong.

Finn called together his platoon commanders, assigning each a route to ascend Hill 342. 2nd Platoon, under Second Lieutenant Wallace J. Reid, was ordered to push through Taepyong-ni and begin his climb at its juncture with the spur. Second Lieutenant Edward T. Emmelman would lead his 3rd Platoon to the top of the spur from the left. Second Lieutenant Arthur A. Oakley, commanding 1st Platoon, would hold the right flank and ascend the southern slope of Hill 342. Enemy opposition was scattered, but before Dog Company reached the crest of the spur, five Marines had received gunshot wounds. As with Cahill’s Marines, Captain Finn’s men were suffering the effects of heat exhaustion in the triple-digit heat.

Captain Finn ordered his executive officer (XO), First Lieutenant Robert T. Hannifin, to establish the company headquarters and mortar section on the high ground directly above Taepyong-ni. At dusk, Dog Company was still several hundred yards from the summit of Hill 342. Finn radioed Roise for permission to rest his men for the night. While Finn was communicating with Roise, 2ndLt Oakley climbed to the summit and contacted Cahill and the Baker Company commander — both of whom accompanied Oakley to Finn’s position. The Army CO advised Finn to remain in place until early the next morning and Roise agreed.

During the early morning hours of 8 August, NKPA troops covertly approached the perimeter of Hill 342. At first light, the enemy assaulted the crest of the hill. The fight turned into a gruesome hand-to-hand struggle. Soldiers and Marines repelled the attack, but not without taking serious casualties. One Marine died from gunshot and bayonet wounds. Captain Finn’s three platoons assaulted the hill, brushing aside enemy resistance and joining what was left of Baker Company and Cahill’s platoon. While effecting the relief, NKPA rifle and automatic weapons punished the perimeter with intensive fire.

Once Dog Company was in possession of the summit perimeter, Baker Company and Cahill’s Marines descended the hill. Cahill had lost one-third of his men. Captain Finn fared no better. NKPA fire killed several of his men while setting in their defenses, including 2ndLt Oakley and 2ndLt. Reid. 2ndLt Emmelman received a serious head wound. As Captain Finn moved forward to recover Reid’s body, he too was struck in the shoulder and head.

First Lieutenant Hannifin, assigned to direct the company headquarters and mortar platoon, moved forward to join the rest of Company D at the summit. Just below the summit, he encountered the First Sergeant, who was helping to evacuate Captain Finn. Hannifin learned that he was now the CO of Dog Company. He was also the only officer remaining alive in the company. In the absence of officers commanding platoons, the NCOs stepped up.

1stLt Hannifin reached the summit of Hill 342 with just enough time to organize the defenses and set in his mortars before the NKPA initiated a second attack. The Marines beat back the assault, killing dozens of the attackers, but the company had lost and additional six killed and 25 wounded. While speaking with Roise on the field radio, Hannifin collapsed due to heat exhaustion. Master Sergeant Harold Reeves assumed command of Dog Company. Second Lieutenant Leroy K. Wirth, a forward observer from 1/11 assumed responsibility for all supporting arms, including aircraft from MAG-33 circling overhead. Both Reeves and Wirth exposed themselves to enemy fire by ranging forward to call in airstrikes and reassess their tactical situation.

Easy Company 2/5 moved forward along the western spur of Hill 342 and dug in. Colonel Roise dispatched Captain Andrew M. Zimmer, who was serving as 2/5’s assistant operations officer, to take command of Dog Company. NKPA forces continued to harass Zimmer’s Marines at the summit, but because the enemy had taken a massive number of casualties in the fight, they gave the Marines of Dog Company a wide birth.

Major Walter Gall, commanding Weapons Company 2/5, dispatched a combat patrol to eliminate NKPA machine guns in Tokkong-ni. Unable to dislodge the communists, the patrol returned to Gall and briefed him on the enemy situation. With this information, 1stLt Ira T. Carr unleashed his 81mm mortar section and all enemy activity in Tokkong-ni ended.

On the afternoon of 9 August, an Army unit relieved Dog Company at the summit and 2/24 INF relieved Roise’s 2/5 of its responsibility for Hill 342. Documents later retrieved from enemy dead revealed that the NKPA forces engaged with soldiers and Marines at the summit were members of the 13th and 15th Regiments of the NKPA 6th Infantry Division. Cahill reported a conservative estimate of 150 dead communists in the hill fight, in total around 400 enemy KIA, but the actual number is unknown. What is known is that between 500 to 600 communist troops challenged the Marines and soldiers to the right to possess Hill 342 — and lost.

For his effort atop Hill 342, then Second Lieutenant Blackie Cahill received the Silver Star medal and a Purple Heart. The courageous Marine officer would later receive three additional Purple Heart medals and the Bronze Star.

Sources:

Appleman, R. E. South to the Naktong, North to the Yalu. Washington: Department of the Army, 1998.
Catchpole, B. The Korean War. London: Robinson Publishing, 2001.
Geer, A. The New Breed: The Story of the U.S. Marines in Korea. New York: Harper & Bros., 1952.
Hastings, M. The Korean War. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1988.
Varhola, M. J. Fire and Ice: The Korean War, 1950-1953. Mason City: Da Capo Press, 2000.

Endnotes:

[1] Sixty-five percent of the Brigade’s officers and NCOs were combat veterans from World War II.

[2] Bob Taplett (1918-2004) served with distinction as a Marine officer for twenty years, serving in World War II and the Korean War. He was awarded the Navy Cross and two awards of the Silver Star medal in recognition of his courage under fire. Retiring in 1960, Taplett authored an autobiography titled Darkhorse Six, which was published in 2003.

[3] Hill 342 stood 342 meters above sea level (1,122 feet), a substantial climb in full combat gear in 112° temperatures.

[4] General Kean’s plan was to withdraw 27 INF to serve in division reserve, replacing it with 5th Marines. The Army’s 5 RCT would serve on the Marine’s right flank.

[5] The 5th Marines, hastily formed for combat duty at Camp Pendleton, departed California on 7 July. The regiment was understrength. Typically, a Marine infantry battalion consists of an H&S Company, Weapons Company, and three rifle companies. This is the standard configuration for a maneuver unit. In July 1950, Murray’s battalions consisted of an H&S Company, Weapons Company, and two rifle companies. These personnel shortages were the result of President Truman’s scheme to gut the U.S. military following World War II.

[6] Second Lieutenant John J. H. (“Blackie”) Cahill (1924-2005) served in the U. S. Marine Corps (1939-1974). There is not much that we know about Cahill, beyond the fact that he likely served aboard ship during the New Guinea campaign, later participated in the island campaigns of the Gilbert Islands, at Cape Gloucester, Peleliu, and Okinawa as an enlisted Marine. He may have left active service at the end of World War II to attend college. In 1950, Cahill was a 2nd Lieutenant with Company G, 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines during the battle for Pusan. He later served with the 5th Marines at the Chosin Reservoir. He later served three tours of duty in Vietnam, notably at the Battle of Khe Sanh when he commanded 1st Battalion, 9th Marines. Cahill’s twin brother Vincent also served in World War II in the Army Air Corps. Colonel Vincent S. Cahill retired from the U.S. Air Force in 1976.

[7] The 75mm Recoilless Rifle was a tripod-mounted weapon weighing 114.5 pounds. It fired HE, HEAT, and WP rounds, had a range of 7,000 yards, and was effective against T-34 tanks within 400 yards. A RR platoon consisted of four rifles/14 Marines.

[8] Every Marine, regardless of MOS, is a qualified infantry rifleman.

[9] General Craig was underwhelmed with 5 RCT’s performance; there was, in his opinion, no good reason for the army regiment’s lack of advance — except that the forward area was confused. In the one-lane dirt roads, military traffic had jammed the MSR and none of the US forces could advance or withdraw. Craig realized that the slowness of the 5 RCT’s advance had opened the door to the NKPA, which had launched its own attack.