Category: Counterinsurgency

Marine Corps Reconnaissance

Overview

U.S. Marine Corps reconnaissance forces are a vital element of the Marine Corps Air-Ground Task Force whenever an expeditionary force commander faces uncertainty on the battlefield.  Marine Corps reconnaissance provides timely intelligence to command and control for battlespace shaping, allowing the MAGTF to act or react to changes in combat operations.  While reconnaissance assets may operate in specialized missions, they are unlike the unconventional Special Operations Command’s force counterparts.  Marine Corps Divisions and Force Reconnaissance units support infantry directly involved in the ground commander’s force of action options.

Many of the types of reconnaissance missions conducted by Marines are characterized by depth of penetration — a factor that increases mission time, risk, and support coordination needs.  Divisional reconnaissance units are responsible for the commander’s area of influence, the close and distant battlespace.  Force reconnaissance platoons are employed farther in the deep battlespace (area of interest).

Missions & Structures

The primary missions assigned to Marine Corps reconnaissance units include (but may not be limited to) the following:

  1. Plan, coordinate, and conduct amphibious-ground reconnaissance and surveillance to observe, identify, and report enemy activity and collect other information of military significance.
  2. Conduct specialized surveying, including underwater surveys and/or demolitions, beach permeability and topography, routes, bridges, structures, urban/rural areas, helicopter landing zones, parachute drop zones, aircraft forward operating sites, and mechanized reconnaissance missions.
  3. When task organized with other forces, equipment, or personnel, assist in specialized engineer, radio, mobile, and other special reconnaissance missions.
  4. Infiltrate mission areas by necessary means, including surface, subsurface, and airborne operations.
  5. Conduct counter-reconnaissance.
  6. Conduct Initial Terminal Guidance for helicopters, landing craft, parachutists, air delivery, and re-supply.
  7. Designate and engage selected targets with organic weapons and force fires to support battlespace shaping.  This includes designation and terminal guidance of precision-guided munitions.
  8. Conduct post-strike reconnaissance to determine and report battle damage assessment on a specified target or area.
  9. Conduct limited-scale raids and ambushes.

Marine Corps Reconnaissance Organizations include —

  • First Reconnaissance Battalion, 1st Marine Division (Camp Pendleton, California)
  • Second Reconnaissance Battalion, 2nd Marine Division (Camp Lejeune, North Carolina)
  • Third Reconnaissance Battalion, 3rd Marine Division (Camp Schwab, Okinawa, Japan)
  • Fourth Reconnaissance Battalion, 4th Marine Division, Marine Corps Reserve Forces, San Antonio, Texas.

Each battalion comprises five companies: Headquarters Company and four line companies designated Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Force.  Each line company consists of a headquarters element and two platoons: a reconnaissance and surveillance (R&S) Platoon and a visit, board, search, and seizure (VBSS) Platoon.

Deep Reconnaissance Platoons (DRPs) are units within Recon Battalions that carry out the role of Force Reconnaissance.  The first DRPs were formed in 1975 when Congress reduced the size of the Marine Corps.  Force reconnaissance was reduced to a single regular company, with the 1st and 3rd Battalions receiving a 23-man DRP.  These units took on greater importance in 2006 when all active duty Force Recon companies were transferred to the Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command (MARSOC) and became Marine Corps Special Operations Battalions.  Force Recon Marines not serving in an MSOB became part of the DRPs, and placed in the Delta Companies of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Recon Battalions.

Today, the standard recon platoon consists of a platoon commander (First Lieutenant), Platoon Sergeant (Gunnery Sergeant), Field Radio Operator (Corporal/Sergeant), Special Equipment NCO (Sergeant), Special Amphibious Reconnaissance Corpsman (Petty Officer 3rd, 2nd, or 1st Class). 

The platoon consists of three Recon Teams, each with a team leader (Staff Sergeant/Sergeant), an Assistant Team Leader (Sergeant or Corporal), Radio Operator (Sergeant or Corporal), Assistant Radio Operator (Lance Corporal), Point Man (Corporal or Lance Corporal), Slack man (Corporal or Lance Corporal).  Note: the slack man is the second man in the order of march.  His mission is to keep his eye on the point man, particularly the areas to the point man’s left and right flank.

World War II

But, of course, that’s not how the Marines have always conducted reconnaissance.  Everything changes over time.  In World War II, the first recon units were Scout & Sniper companies and the Scout (Tank) companies of the Marine Corps tank battalions.  They existed around the same time the 1st and 2nd Marine Divisions came online in 1941.  At that time, each Regiment had a scout and sniper platoon attached to the Regimental Headquarters & Service Company.  The Scout & Sniper units had a variety of tasks and missions and, on occasion, became involved in heavy combat.  The problem was that given the nature of the Pacific War, there was not much “snooping and pooping” to be done against Japanese positions on small Pacific islands and archipelagos, so these specialized troops were often used as “spare” rifle platoons.

But you ask, why tanks?  In World War II, Tanks were reinforcing units for Scout & Sniper companies for added speed and firepower.  By themselves, Marine platoons facing Japanese regiments and divisions didn’t carry much punch.  These later evolved into Division recon companies (and, after that, battalions).  This concept of added punch was reintroduced in the 1980s with the Light Armored Reconnaissance (LAR) Battalions.

During the recapture of Guam, the 3rd Marine Division and the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade each had their own reconnaissance company.  Major General Allen H. Turnage, commanding the 3rd Marine Division, split the division’s scout and sniper company into three platoons and attached one platoon to each Regiment.  In the battle for Guam, Marine reconnaissance units played significant roles in the fights, particularly at night — when the Japanese preferred to launch Banzai charges.

Imperial Japanese Army (IJA) Colonel Tsunetaro Suenaga commanded the 28th Regiment of the 29th Division.  He began probing Marine lines shortly after sunset on the night of the 24th – 25th July 1944.  At 2130, Suenaga ordered an assault at the juncture of the regimental boundaries of the Division’s 4th Marines and the Brigade’s 22nd Marines.  When the Japanese launched, they did so in overwhelming force, overran the forward-most lines, and began penetrating the thinly held rear areas.  Using grenades, small arms, mortars, bayonets, and close-quarters combat, the Marines held off the charging Japanese.

In one instance, an assaulting Japanese unit reached the Marine howitzers, and heavy fighting ensued as Marines fought to deny the Japanese access to these weapons.  It was an “all hands” event, as every Marine (cooks, bakers, clerks, supply men) rallied around First Lieutenant Dennis Chavez, Jr., commanding the Reconnaissance Platoon.  Under his leadership and direction, the Marines stopped the Japanese assault.  By dawn, the Suenaga’s infantry regiment no longer existed, and the Japanese colonel was seriously wounded and dying.

Commanding the 1st Provisional Marine Brigade, Brigadier General Lemuel C. Shepherd was tasked to provide a blocking force across the Orote Peninsula on the night of 25th – 26th July 1944.  In evaluating his defenses for the night, the Commanding Officer, 9th Marines (Colonel Edward A. Craig), was concerned that the junction between his Regiment and that of the 21st Marines may not be as strong as it need be should the Japanese once again attempt to exploit the allied lines.  Accordingly, Colonel Craig set his Scout & Sniper Platoon in as a reinforcing measure.

At about 2330, a forward listening post reported increased enemy activity within its sector of responsibility.  Thirty minutes later, the Japanese opened with artillery and mortar fire.  This overwhelming demonstration of concentrated fire drove the lightly armed Scout/Sniper platoon back, but once these preparatory fires lifted, the Marine defenders rushed back to their previous positions and held the Japanese at bay, exhausted them, and depleted their ammunition, food, and water.  This led General Hideyoshi Obata to withdraw his force from Guam’s southern region toward the mountainous central area, there to make a stand.  It was then that the Marines began to engage the retreating enemy.  Within ten days, the Japanese commander committed ritual suicide.

The last reconnaissance mission on Guam was a mechanized force consisting of two Scout companies and the H&S Company, 3rd Tank Battalion, and India Company, 21st Marines. 

The Korean War

The United States wasn’t ready for the Korean War (1950 – 1953).  We should have been, but we weren’t.  In 1945, everyone in the world was sick and tired of war.  Americans wanted to return home and get back to their lives — but thanks to the stress of combat, not everyone would be able to do that.  But President Truman wanted it to be so, so he worked to put America back into a peacetime economy.  To do that, in part, he gutted the U.S. Armed Forces — and the consequence of that was that what forces we did have were not ready to fight when the North Koreans attacked South Korea.

The first units to arrive in Korea were part of the occupation forces of the Eighth U.S. Army in Japan.  They were among the most “not ready” and paid a dear price for their combat readiness status.  Facing defeat after defeat, the North Koreans pushed United States/United Nations forces to the southern tip of the Korean Peninsula.  Three U.S. Army infantry divisions were hanging on by their fingernails, and General MacArthur asked the Joint Chiefs of Staff for a Marine Regiment to save the day. 

Marine Corps leadership gave MacArthur a Brigade instead.  One Rifle Regiment (-) with attachments, an artillery battalion, and a Marine Aircraft Group.  One of those attachments was a 1st Marine Division Reconnaissance Company platoon led by Captain Kenneth J. Houghton.  Houghton’s Marines played an essential role in the fighting in the Pusan Perimeter.  In those days, indeed, every Marine was a rifleman — they would not have survived otherwise.

The remainder of the 1st Reconnaissance Company (known as Division Recon) arrived with the rest of the division during the landing at Inchon.  Additionally, Able Company and Baker Company of the Second Amphibious Reconnaissance Battalion arrived to reinforce Houghton’s Company.  Second Recon quickly reorganized from an amphibious unit of nine-man boat teams to motorized units of four-man jeep teams.  Jeep teams conducted deep reconnaissance as point elements for infantry advances and as amphibious raiding teams into North Korea from the U.S. Seventh Fleet.  On one such raid, sixteen Recon Marines and twenty-five members of the Underwater Demolition Team successfully infiltrated Posung-Myon, and destroyed three tunnels and two railway bridges without losing a single man. 

Following the 1st Marine Division’s withdrawal from the Chosin Reservoir, a recon team infiltrated An-Dong, concealed themselves for four days while observing enemy activity, and remained in place while calling in air strikes on predominantly Chinese infantry units.  They executed their mission and withdrew undetected.

The 1st Reconnaissance Company deactivated in June 1953 but was reactivated in 1958.

The Vietnam War

When Americans began serving in Vietnam, no one in America knew where Vietnam was.  In 1944, people referred to it as Indochina, and Americans were working with local communist cadres to disrupt Japanese occupation forces.  The first American died in Indochina in 1945.  By 1947, U.S. military advisors were assisting the French in regaining their imperialistic hold over Indochina, a former French colony.  At the same time, the Soviet Union was working just as hard with communists to disrupt the French.  In 1954, Vietnamese nationalists defeated the French at the Battle of Diên Bien Phu.  With the withdrawal of Imperial French forces came the Americans to offer military assistance and advice to the newly created Republic of Vietnam (R.V.N.).

U.S. Marine Corps involvement in Vietnam began on 2 August 1954 when Lieutenant Colonel Victor J. Croizat assumed his post as Marine Liaison Officer, U. S. Military Assistance and Advisory Group, Vietnam.  For the next eight years, Marine activities in Vietnam involved advisory and operational planning duties.  This began to change in mid-April 1962 when Marine Medium Helicopter Squadron 362 (HMM-362), under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Archie Clapp, deployed to South Vietnam.  His mission was to provide combat service support to the fledgling Army of the Republic of Vietnam (A.R.V.N.).  In the spring of 1964, Marine Detachment Advisory Team One, commanded by Major Alfred M. Gray Jr., arrived to collect signals intelligence, becoming the first Marine ground unit to arrive in the country.

Following the Gulf of Tonkin incident in August 1964 — the episode in which the President of the United States lied to the American people and Congress to have a war with the North Vietnamese, the United States further committed its Marines.  The end of 1964 concluded the advisory and assistance phase of the Vietnam War — a crucial turning point had been reached.  With a significant escalation of Marine Corps combat activities, Lyndon Johnson had his war.

The first American combat units in Vietnam were those of the 9th Marine Amphibious Brigade (9thMAB), a composite unit formed from within the 3rd Marine Division (3rdMarDiv) on the island of Okinawa.  9thMAB came ashore from ships of the U.S. Seventh Fleet on 8 March 1965.  Its mission was to secure Da Nang Airbase and establish a beachhead at Red Beach, Da Nang. 

Attached to the 9thMAB was a Recon Platoon from Alpha Company, 3rd Recon Battalion.  These Marines were the first to encounter hostile action from the Communist Viet Cong (V.C.) forces on 22 April 1965.  A recon patrol from Delta Company, 3rd Recon Bn, operating ten miles southwest of Da Nang, exchanged fire with a larger force of V.C.  The usual mission assigned to recon units is the collection and information about enemy forces and activities — not to engage the enemy in combat and certainly not to engage a much larger unit.  Accordingly, the Recon platoon called in for reinforcements, and the fight was on.  However, the V.C. unit withdrew through the dense jungle and “disappeared” before a major contest could develop.  Two days later, a recon squad positioned a mile and a half south of Da Nang fell under a surprise attack by V.C. forces.  The fight lasted a few minutes, but two Marines died that night. 

These Marines were not the first Americans to die in Vietnam — and they would not be the last, not by a longshot.

Frank S. Reasoner

Frank Reasoner (1937 – 1965) was born in Spokane, Washington but was raised in Kellogg, Idaho, graduating from high school in 1955.  He enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps three months before his eighteenth birthday. 

Upon completion of recruit training in San Diego, California, Reasoner was promoted to Private First Class and ordered to infantry training at Camp Pendleton.  Subsequently, the Marine Corps selected Reasoner for training as an airborne radio operator, where he completed training at the Naval Air Technical Training Center, Jacksonville, Florida, and the Communications-Electronics School in San Diego.

Reasoner’s first regular posting occurred with Marine Wing Service Group 37, 3rd Marine Aircraft Wing at El Toro, California.  After his promotion to Corporal, he applied and was accepted to Naval Academy Preparatory School, Bainbridge, Maryland.  In January 1958, the Marine Corps promoted Reasoner to Sergeant, and in June, having passed entrance examinations, transferred him to the Marine Corps Reserve while attending the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland.

Upon graduating from the United States Naval Academy in June 1962 with a Bachelor of Science Degree, Reasoner also received his commission to Second Lieutenant.  He was promoted to First Lieutenant in December 1962 and reported to the Officer’s Basic School in January 1963.

Upon reporting to the 1st Marine Brigade at Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii, Reasoner was assigned to Bravo Company, 3rd Reconnaissance Battalion, FMF.  When Bravo Company was assigned to Vietnam in 1965, Lieutenant Reasoner went with it.  On 20 June, he assumed command of Alpha Company, 3rd Recon Battalion.

On 12 July, First Lieutenant Reasoner led an 18-man patrol near Dai Loc, eleven miles southwest of Da Nang, when a company-sized V.C. unit attacked the patrol.  During the engagement, Reasoner and three of his fellow Marines were killed in action.  His MEDAL OF HONOR citation tells the story of what happened that day.

The reconnaissance patrol led by First Lieutenant Frank S. Reasoner had deeply penetrated heavily controlled enemy territory when it came under extremely heavy fire from an estimated 50 to 100 Viet Cong insurgents.  Accompanying the advance party and the point that consisted of 5 men, he immediately deployed his men for an assault after the Viet Cong had opened fire from numerous concealed positions.  Boldly shouting encouragement and virtually isolated from the main body, he organized a base of fire for an assault on the enemy positions.  The slashing fury of the Viet Cong machine gun and automatic weapons fire made it impossible for the main body to move forward.  Repeatedly exposing himself to the devastating attack, he skillfully provided covering fire, killing at least two enemy insurgents and effectively silencing an automatic weapons position in a valiant attempt to effect evacuation of a wounded man.  As casualties began to mount, his radio operator was wounded, and Lieutenant Reasoner immediately moved to his side and tended his wounds.  When the radio operator was hit a second time while attempting to reach a covered position, 1st Lt. Reasoner courageously ran to his aid through the grazing machinegun fire and fell mortally wounded.  His indomitable fighting spirit, valiant leadership, and unflinching devotion to duty inspired the patrol to complete its mission without further casualties.  In the face of almost certain death, he gallantly gave his life in the service of his country.  His actions upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the U.S. Naval Service.

HARVEST MOON

Background

By the time the United States combat forces arrived in South Vietnam in 1965, the Southeast Asia War had been going on for twenty years — and in 1965, the average age of a combat Marine was 19 years.  Senior Marine Corps officers realized that there were only two possibilities for America’s communist enemy in Vietnam: either the Marines would kill him, or the Marines would continue fighting him until he was no more.  The Viet Cong/North Vietnamese soldier couldn’t pack up and go home; he was home.  So, it came as no surprise to anyone in mid-November 1965 when a Viet Cong regiment that had been thoroughly beaten in an earlier operation suddenly reappeared on the field of battle.

On 17 November 1965, despite its shellacking during OPERATION STARLIGHT, the 1st Viet Cong Regiment assaulted a South Vietnamese outpost found at Hiep Duc, 25 miles due west of Tam Ky.  Not everyone was convinced that it was a reformed regiment — it was likely a new North Vietnamese regular unit operating under a false flag.  During the Vietnam War, Tam Ky served as the capital of Quảng Nam Province in the South-Central coastal region of South Vietnam and a gateway to a fertile mountain valley known as Nui Loc Son.  To some, it was known as the Que Son Valley — a strategic area between Da Nang and Chu Lai.  The enemy exercised freedom of movement in this region because of the northeast monsoon season when heavy rain clouds shrouded the valley and its western approaches.

That night, the communist regiment with all three assault battalions overran a small Regional Force (RF) garrison.  Subsequently, the district commanders reported 174 of 433 defenders missing and 315 weapons lost.  As soon as the attack was reported, F-4B (Phantom) aircraft from Marine Aircraft Group (MAG) -11 and A-4 Skyhawks from MAG-12 began conducting strikes in the surrounding hills.  Secondarily, two combat helicopter groups (MAG-16 and MAG-36) began preparing to lift two South Vietnamese (ARVN) battalions into the battle areas.

Response

The site chosen to land the two ARVN battalions would be problematic.  First, the landing zones were area-restrictive — they only accommodate so many aircraft landing at a time.  Second, the enemy’s positions in surrounding mountainous areas allowed them to shoot down on top of the planes once they had “touched down.” It was a pickle because either the Marines would have to take out those enemy positions or they would have to lose an unacceptable number of helicopters.  While the air boss held the helicopters in a circulating pattern, forward air controllers vectored fixed-wing attack aircraft to neutralize the enemy’s positions.

No one imagined on 17 November that this would be an easy fight, but with Marine close air support (CAS) and dedicated fighting, ARVN forces reoccupied Hiep Duc within two days.  The next decision — whether to reoccupy the outpost or abandon it — would be up to the Vietnamese commander.  

The 3rd Marine Division commander put the 3rd Battalion, 7th Marines (3/7), on notice at Chu Lai that it would reinforce the ARVN battalions if necessary.  The enemy made the ARVN commander’s decision for him when they overran another isolated outpost at Thach Tru in southern I Corps.  Since General Thi had insufficient forces to reoccupy all areas under enemy threat, he abandoned Hiep Duc and concentrated on Thach Tru, sixteen miles south of Quảng Ngai.  ARVN forces fought well enough that the Marines weren’t needed.

Two simultaneous Viet Cong assaults at two locations were typical of the enemy’s monsoon strategy.  They moved during periods of poor weather because they realized that weather restricted the use of American air assets.  Knowing that U.S. and ARVN forces would respond to isolated attacks, the Viet Cong set up numerous ambushes to trap any reinforcing units.  The enemy had miscalculated at Thach Tru, but at Hiep Duc, the enemy was in an excellent position to enter the Nui Loc Son basin, which opened access to other strategic outposts at Que Son and Viet An.

To counter this threat, the Commander, U.S. Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (COMUSMACV), General William Westmoreland, ordered the Commanding General, III Marine Amphibious Force (III MAF), Lieutenant General Louis Walt, to place two battalions on 12-hour rapid deployment alert.  On 22 November, Westmoreland issued a letter of instruction to Walt confirming his earlier order, to wit: “Conduct search and destroy operations against more distant VC base areas to destroy or drive the VC out.” Meanwhile, the Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force, Pacific (Hawaii), although not in the operational chain of command, suggested very strongly to Walt that he needed to recapture the initiative and included some suggestions for enticing the enemy to attack a weak position — suggesting the Hiep Duc might be the place to do that.  General Walt next conferred with his Vietnamese counterpart, who agreed to initiate OPERATION HARVEST MOON/LIEN KET 18.

The Operation

On 5 December, III MAF activated a temporary command designated Task Force Delta under the authority of Brigadier General Malvin D. Henderson.  The two battalions assigned to the task force were the 2nd Battalion, 7th Marines (2/7) at Chu Lai, and the 3rdBattalion, 3rd Marines (3/3) at Da Nang.  As it happened, 3/3 had only one organic rifle company — Lima Company.  The two other companies were Echo Company, 2/9, and Golf Company, 2/4.

The Division C.P. formed a provisional artillery battalion from elements of the 11th and 12th Marine regiments.  Additionally, Commander, U.S. Seventh Fleet granted permission to name the Special Landing Force as the battalion landing team in reserve.  General Henderson and his staff completed their planning on 7 December.  ARVN Brigadier General Hoang Xuan Lam, commanding the 2nd Infantry Division, set up his command post at Thang Binh.  Lam was well known to the Marines of I Corps, dressed as he did in a black beret with flashy silver badges and a tanker’s jacket.  He was a hotdog if ever there was one.  Henderson set up his C.P. with the artillery batteries at Que Son.

The 5th ARVN Regiment, with two battalions, would enter the Que Son Valley along the Thang Binh-Hiep Duc road on 8 December and move eight miles to a point just south of Que Son village.  MACV intelligence claimed that the 1st VC Regiment operated west of Que Son village.  Two-Seven, under Lieutenant Colonel Utter, moved in behind the enemy to flush them eastward into the 5th ARVN.  Lieutenant Colonel Dorsey’s 3/3 would reinforce Utter, as required.  As the 5th ARVN stepped off, the 11thRanger Battalion took the right flank, and the ARVN 1st Battalion took the left.  At about 1330, more or less at the halfway point, the 70th VC battalion slammed into the ARVN Rangers.  Within the first fifteen minutes of the battle, the Rangers had given up about a third of their manpower.  The ARVN 1/5 attempted to reinforce the Rangers, but the enemy’s mortars prevented them from crossing the road.

Though badly mauled, the Rangers managed to extricate themselves to a position 1,200 meters northwest and then, having set into a hasty defense, called for Marine close air support.  A-4s delivered an overwhelming aerial assault on VC positions.  When the A-4s cleared the area, Marine helicopters began ferrying in reinforcements from General Lam’s 6th ARVN Regiment.  As soon as the infantry exited the choppers, the pilot’s missions turned to aeromedical evacuation.  The enemy initiated several probes of ARVN defenses throughout the night, but no actual fighting developed.

Early in the morning of 9 December, elements of the 60th and 80th VC battalions struck the 5th ARVN.  In the heavy fighting that followed, Viet Cong overran both regimental and 1st battalion command groups, killed the regimental commander, and scattered South Vietnamese troops to the South and east.  At about the same time, another VC battalion attacked the 1st Battalion, 6thARVN, but was stopped in its tracks.  It was at this point that General Henderson decided to commit his Marines.  HMM-161 airlifted 2/7 into an LZ five miles west of the shattered ARVN regiment.

By late afternoon, as Henderson committed LtCol Dorsey’s Battalion to a position a mile and a half southeast of the ARVN’s position, LtCol Utter managed to move his entire Battalion some 3,000 meters closer to the beleaguered 5th ARVN regiment. Dorsey’s Lima Company took the battalion lead and, after making first contact with ARVN units, pushed northwest toward Hill 43.  These Marines ran into around 200 V.C. at the base of the hill.

Shooting bullets at U.S. Marines does nothing to enhance their overall dispositions, so as the VC threw down on the Marines, Dorsey began shelling the Viet Cong.  By the time the VC broke contact with the Marines at sundown, the enemy had sent 75 of their men across the river Styx.  Lima Company seized Hill 43 early the following day, joining up with 40 ARVN survivors from the 1st Battalion, 5th ARVN.

On 10 December, General Henderson ordered Colonel Utter to drive eastward and Colonel Dorsey to push northwest to compress the enemy between them.  To block an enemy escape, Henderson ordered LtCol Robert T. Hanifin Jr. to bring his 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines (2/1), ashore from the U.S.S. Valley Forge.  The first assault element, Fox Company, lifted off the ship at around 1100, heading toward the hamlet called Cam La, five miles southeast of Que Son.  Enemy 12.7mm heavy machine guns assaulted the helicopters from fortified positions on Hill 407 as the birds approached their LZ.  The Marines were surprised by the volume and intensity of the enemy’s fire.

Fox Company Marines were in trouble the instant they exited their helicopters.  The VC kept them under continuous mortar, machine gun, and small arms fire.  The men took what cover that was available to them and waited for reinforcements.  The rest of 2/1 landed to the west.  Henderson ordered Utter’s Battalion to move south to aid Fox Company Marines.  Echo Company 2/7 pushed south toward Fox 2/1 but was walloped on its right flank by enemy fire.  With some difficulty, Echo Company reached a position from which it could support Fox Company Marines.  At that point, Fox Marines began to withdraw.  Ten hours later, Hanifin’s command group and his three rifle companies joined up with Utter’s Echo Company — but, by then, both Echo and Fox had suffered substantial casualties: twenty dead and eighty wounded.

As darkness fell at the end of the day, General Walt relieved Brigadier General Henderson and replaced him with Brigadier General Jonas M. Platt.  Henderson was an experienced Marine officer who participated in some of World War II’s most significant battles but was a combat engineer with no infantry command experience.  But this unusual war was just beginning, and the Americans would have to learn more than a few critical lessons.  Henderson was just out of his depth and pinned to a steep learning curve.  The stakes were too high to leave him in place — and if that weren’t true, then Walt would never have moved him out in the middle of a critical operation.  The first thing Platt did was shift another company to 2/7 from 2/1.

On 11 December, Task Force Delta moved to consolidate its position.  General Platt studied the battlefield from the air.  Since he received no enemy fire from Hill 407, he concluded that the VC had withdrawn from their positions.  Platt directed LtCol Utter to seize the hill, which he did without delay. Dorsey’s Battalion began a search of the area north of Hill 407, and Platt called for Colonel Hanifin’s remaining two companies to come ashore.

General Platt suspected that the 1st VC Regiment had retreated into the Phuoc Ha Valley, a smaller area paralleling the larger Que Son Valley.  Phuoc Ha was a known VC base region, and When General Thi was asked whether he intended to pursue the 1st VC Regiment, he urged great caution.  Of interest, no Vietnamese officer participated in more coup d’état in Vietnam than Major General Nguyen Chanh Thi, the Commanding General of I Corps.  He was one of the original warlords of the northernmost region of South Vietnam.

That afternoon, General Westmoreland’s J-3 (Operations Officer), Brigadier General William E. DePuy, U.S. Army, visited with Brigadier General Platt, and he suggested using B-52 strikes before U.S. forces entered the valley.  Platt accepted DePuy’s offer.

Say What?

The B-52 Stratofortress was a tactical support aircraft under the codename Arc Light.  Each aircraft could carry 60,000 pounds of bombs.  An Arc Light strike in the Phuoc Ha Valley would have a devastating effect.  On the morning of 12 December, Arc Light aircraft struck the Phuoc Ha Valley, and anyone with a soul would have to pity anyone who survived.  As the plane flew at or above 50,000 feet, none of the enemies would have known what would happen.  Men lost their eardrums from a mile away.  Within a kilometer, the concussion of a single 500-pound bomb knocked people unconscious — so to get an appreciation of an Arc Light, one should multiply one 500-pound bomb by hundreds falling simultaneously.  At the end of a strike, the land looked like a moonscape.  General DePuy had arranged for two days of air strikes.

Yea, though, we walk through the valley …

On 13 December, General Platt organized the advance of Task Force Delta into two groupings.  Two-Seven was dispatched southeast to the Khang River, deep into the valley.  From there, it would move back toward Tam Ky.  Platt replaced the battle-shattered Echo Company with Company H, 2nd Battalion, 9th Marines — and Colonel Utter moved his Battalion of Marines along a dirt road to secure the South Vietnamese outpost at Viet An.  He assigned two companies to control the high ground in the north (Company F) and east (Company G) and another (Company H) occupying the village itself that evening. 

LtCol Utter executed an airlift to the Khang River.  Company F and Company G conducted the initial landing shortly before noon, following air strikes on the landing zone.  As they landed, the Marines faced intermittent 12.7mm machinegun fire from fleeing Viet Cong.  The rifle companies quickly secured the landing zone and were soon joined by Hotel Company 2/9.

LtCol Utter then established defensive positions along high ground overlooking a ferry crossing along the river he suspected the VC used as a regular route of march.  As 2/7 moved ever deeper into the Phuoc Ha Valley, Task Force Delta’s other two battalions began to move south and east.  At first, BLT 2/1 gave the Arc Light crews a wide birth, but once the danger had passed, these Marines resumed their area security patrols.  Apart from eight enemies disguised as women, the Battalion encountered little enemy activity.

On 13 December, 3/3 and 2/1 proceeded along the northern part of the valley, east and northwest.  The three-battalion mission was clear: to search for, destroy, and compel Viet Cong forces to expose themselves.  It didn’t take 3/3 long to discover evidence of how well provisioned and secure the VC were in the ignored valley.  There were caves stuffed with sleeping cots, blankets, medical supplies, uniforms, batteries, and sewing kits.  If the Marines hadn’t figured it out before then, they knew it now — these VC fellows knew their home territory and were serious about the fight.

Task Force Delta continued its advance over the next three days.  Two-Seven, moving east, discovered a field medical hospital.  Two-One reached the area of devastation from Arc Light on the 15th and then pivoted toward 3/3.  As Hanifin crossed over a ridge of hills separating the two battalions, he encountered a force of around fifty VC.  After a couple of hours of exchanging fire, the VC withdrew, and the tired Marines from 2/1 were airlifted into Phu Bai.  Similarly, 3/3 was pulled out to rest.

Two-Seven faced a more difficult march.  The cross-country march took the Marines from the ferry crossing on 15 December toward Thon Hai, which they anticipated reaching on 18 December.  Passing through Ky Phu, a little more than five miles west of Tam Ky, the Marines found the village eerily quiet and absent any men and women huddling among themselves in “out of the way” locations.  

On that day, Marines had been receiving intermittent sniper fire, but nothing that led the battalion commander to think that an attack was imminent — just another day in paradise.  Still, LtCol Utter was being wisely cautious with security patrols between five and seven-hundred yards in advance guard and both flanks.  He also knew his Battalion wasn’t fresh. They’d been on the trails for more than twenty miles, and they were wet, miserable, and tired.  Colonel Utter had evacuated fifty Marines on 17 December with immersion foot.

Two-Seven’s three companies advanced in a column.  Company G had the point, followed by Fox Company in “V” formation.  H&S Company followed Fox Company, and Hotel Company 2/9 brought up the rear.  Ky Phu was rice paddy central, interspersed with small villages and hedgerows.  To the South, there was a low ridge line no higher than 30 meters that commanded the western approaches to the market section of the village.

The Storm Arrives

By 1330, with half of the Battalion on the other side of Ky Phu central, Golf and Fox companies came under sudden attack from machine guns and recoilless rifle fire.  At first, Colonel Utter thought the shooting was part of the VC’s harassing campaign.  He ordered Golf to turn south and use the Battalion’s 81mm mortars to clear the road and direct Fox to assume the Battalion’s advance.  Golf soon reported that they were receiving counter-battery mortar fire.  The Battalion CO’s miscalculation had placed the entire unit in great danger.  Two-Seven had walked into an enemy battalion-sized ambush.

As the Battalion proceeded forward, two enemy companies hit the lightly armed H&S Company from both north and South — the enemy’s goal being to split the Battalion.  But the Marines responded immediately and, through a coordinated effort, began to deliver overwhelming gunfire on the Viet Cong.  The attackers became the attacked.  With the CO’s radio operator killed, LtCol Utter lost contact with the rest of his Battalion.

What began as a jab turned into a slugfest of hours in duration.  As enemy fire rained down on the Marines taking cover in the rice paddies, poor weather finally gave the Marines a break.  Enemy mortars landing in the rice paddies absorbed most of the explosions.  A gap opened between Fox Company and H&S Company, and the enemy wasted no time exploiting it.  Hand-to-hand fighting broke out.

The company commander, First Lieutenant Grosz, sent runners to Fox Company, directing them to come back and close the gap.  The enemy fire killed the first two messengers — so Grosz ran the gauntlet and contacted the Fox Company commander.  Although not hit, Grosz’s uniform was pockmarked with bullet holes.  Lieutenant Grosz and a squad from Fox Company fought their way back to H&S Company lines.

With the battalion commander’s concurrence, Fox Company began moving back to H&S Company to establish a defensive perimeter.  After Utter contacted the Task Force’s artillery support (Mike Battery, 4/11), 2/7 began receiving fire support from 155mm howitzers.  As Fox and H&S Company began to take control of the situation, Golf Company 2/9 became the enemy’s next target of opportunity.

The Company Commander was Captain Paul L. Gormley, Jr.  In the enemy’s initial assault, Gormley and his radio operator, Lance Corporal Robert J. Wilkins, were killed by a 57mm recoilless rifle.  Command of the company thus fell to First Lieutenant Harvey C. Barnum, who was temporarily assigned to the company as an artillery spotter from the 2nd Battalion, 12th Marines (Barnum shown right).  

Barnum ordered a hasty defense.  While the lead element was responding to his order, he ran forward to retrieve the bodies of Gormley and Wilkins.  There were a thousand things for the lieutenant to do almost immediately, including re-establishing command and control over Hotel Company, attending to casualties, breaking out of the ambush, notifying the Battalion Commander of the status of the company, and checking in with the battalion air officer.  He could do none of these things without a radio, so he placed Wilkins’ radio on his back, making Barnum a prime target for enemy fire.

There was no panic in Barnum as he set upon his tasks.  His calmness under fire gave confidence to his NCOs and men as he worked to bring order to chaos.  For well over four hours of intense combat, First Lieutenant Barnum and the Marines of Golf Company held off the VC as they worked to secure a landing zone from which casualties could be evacuated.

Colonel Harvey C. Barnum, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired) (1940- ), was the fourth Marine to receive the Medal of Honor during the Vietnam War.  After he retired from active duty in 1989, he served as Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Navy for Reserve Affairs (2001 – 2009).  The citation for his MEDAL OF HONOR reads as follows:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as Forward Observer for Artillery while attached to Company H, Second Battalion, Ninth Marines, Third Marine Division (Reinforced) in action against communist forces at Ky Phu, Quang Tin Province, Republic of Vietnam, on 18 December 1965.  When the company was suddenly pinned down by a hail of extremely accurate enemy fire and was quickly separated from the remainder of the Battalion by over five hundred meters of open and fire-swept ground, and casualties mounted rapidly, Lieutenant Barnum quickly made a hazardous reconnaissance of the area seeking targets for his artillery.  Finding the rifle company commander mortally wounded and the radio operator killed, he, with complete disregard for his own safety, gave aid to the dying commander, then removed the radio from the dead operator and strapped it to himself.  He immediately assumed command of the rifle company and, moving at once into the midst of the heavy fire, rallying and giving encouragement to all units, reorganized them to replace the loss of key personnel and led their attack on enemy positions from which deadly fire continued to come.  His sound and swift decisions and his obvious calm served to stabilize the badly decimated units, and his gallant example, as he stood exposed repeatedly to point out targets, served as an inspiration to all.  Provided with two armed helicopters, he moved fearlessly through enemy fire to control the air attack against the firmly entrenched enemy while skillfully directing one platoon in a successful counterattack in the key enemy positions.  Having thus cleared a small area, he requested and directed the landing of two transport helicopters for the evacuation of the dead and wounded.  He then assisted in the mopping up and final seizure of the Battalion’s objective.  His gallant initiative and heroic conduct reflected great credit upon himself and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and United States Naval Service.

The U.S.S. Harvey C. Barnum is named in his honor.

The Navy Cross

–And Posha

Introduction

Normally, a structure begins with a solid foundation, construed to mean “at ground level,” and works itself upward to its pinnacle.  The United States military awards system works just the opposite.  The current system begins at the pinnacle and works its way downward.  At the pinnacle of this system is the United States Medal of Honor.

The Medal of Honor is the nation’s highest military award for bravery, awarded by the President of the United States in the name of the United States Congress.  For this reason, the medal is often referred to as the Congressional Medal of Honor, but its official title is simply the Medal of Honor.  So far in its history, since its introduction in 1863, the Medal of Honor (also, MoH) has been awarded 3,512 times to 3,493 recipients.  Nineteen individuals have been double recipients of the award.  Since the award’s inception, the laws and regulations that apply to it have changed.  In some instances, the award has been rescinded.  Six rescinded awards have been reinstated.

On several occasions, legislation has been offered to waive certain restrictions — to encourage the President to award the Medal of Honor to particular individuals.  In the most general sense, this type of legislation is rarely enacted.  In limited number of cases, the medal has been awarded outside legal restrictions concerning time limits.  These cases are often based on technical errors, lost documents or eyewitness accounts, or other factors that justify reconsideration.  Such cases are an exception to the rule.

At the beginning

The tradition of recognizing American military men (later, women) dates to the American Revolution.  In the American colonies, the oldest military decoration was the Fidelity Medallion, created by the Continental Congress in 1780 and presented to the men responsible for capturing British Major John André — the officer who worked with Benedict Arnold to betray the colonies.

The recipients of the Fidelity Medallion were members of the New York militia: Privates Isaac Van Wart, David Williams, and John Paulding.  The medal was never again awarded — and it is for this reason that the first United States (as opposed to Continental) medal awarded was the Badge of Military Merit, created in 1782.  In the new egalitarian America, it is also significant that the first medals were awarded to enlisted men, not officers.[1]

On 7 August 1782, General George Washington designed the Badge of Military Merit.  It was a cloth or silk figure of a heart, recognizing meritorious or gallant conduct.  But credit for instigating the practice of awards recognition belongs to George Washington. Only three men received this hand-made decoration: (a) Sergeant Elijah Churchill: 2nd Regiment, Light Dragoons.  He was awarded the badge for his part in two successful raids behind British lines in Nov. 1780 and in October of 1781.  (b) Sergeant William Brown: 5th Connecticut Regiment. Awarded the badge for leading an advance party — with only bayonets — penetrating the British lines at Yorktown, VA on 14 October 1781, and (c) Sergeant Daniel Bissell: 2nd Connecticut Regiment. Awarded the badge for masquerading as a British soldier from August 1781 to September 1782.[2]  Again, all three recipients were enlisted men — and this design, by General Washington, became the forerunner of the modern Purple Heart Medal.

Between General Washington’s Merit Badge and the American Civil War, government officials issued certificates of merit and “brevet promotions” to recognize courageous conduct and meritorious military service.  Thus, the first military decoration formally authorized by the United States government to symbolize valorous conduct was the Medal of Honor, approved for enlisted men of the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps.  President Lincoln signed the authorization on 21 December 1861.  In July 1862, Congress approved a Medal of Honor suitable for the U.S. Army (and Volunteer Army of the United States).[3]

During the Civil War, more than 2,000 Medals of Honor were issued.  Allegations of fraud and shady politics in the award of the medal led to a review of all those issued to Army members prior to 1917.  A commission of five retired general officers determined that 911 of the medals had been improperly awarded.  Those awards included medals given to members of the 27th Maine Regiment for reenlisting during the Civil War, along with those presented to members of the Presidential Honor Guard at Lincoln’s funeral.  Also included was the only MoH awarded to a woman: Mary Walker, a union surgeon.[4]

Fifty-four years after the creation of the Medal of Honor (1861), at a time when the Medal of Honor was the only U.S. award for valor, officials of the Navy Department and War Department understood that servicemen were still behaving with extreme courage on the battlefield, but simply not to the level expected of the Medal of Honor.  For this reason, the Navy and Army developed additional decorations designed to recognize battlefield bravery of a lesser standard than that of the Medal of Honor.

In the Navy, officials ordered the creation of the Navy Distinguished Service Medal as second in line to the Medal of Honor and the Navy Cross Medal as third in line.  Army officials approved the Army Distinguished Service Medal and the Army Distinguished Service Cross.  In 1942, the precedence of these awards was reversed so that the Navy Cross and Army Distinguished Service Cross became the second highest awards, followed by the Distinguished Service medals as the third highest awards. 

Within the Navy Department, the Navy Cross was created to recognize valorous sailors and Marines whose performance would not qualify them for thenation’ss highest award.[5]    The Navy Cross, designed by James Earle Fraser, has been awarded 6,300 times.  Since 2001, the Navy Cross has been awarded 47 times — in two instances, the name of its recipient was classified secret.

The Navy Cross may be awarded to any member of the U.S. Armed Forces while serving with the Navy, Marine Corps, or Coast Guard (when serving under the Navy Department) who distinguish themselves by extraordinary heroism, not justifying an award of the Medal of Honor.  Such actions must take place under one of three sets of circumstances:

  1. In combat action, while engaged against an enemy of the United States; or,
  2. In combat action, while engaged in military operations involving conflict with an opposing foreign force; or,
  3. In combat action while serving with friendly foreign forces, who are engaged in armed conflict in which the United States is not a belligerent party.

The act(s) of heroism must be performed in the presence of great danger or at great personal risk and must be performed in such a manner as to render the individual’s action(s) highly conspicuous among others of equal grade, rate, experience, or position of responsibility.  An accumulation of minor acts of heroism does not justify an award of the Navy Cross.

One of the recipients was a war dog handler —

William B. Soutra is a son of Worcester, Massachusetts.  When he joined the U.S. Marine Corps, he became the third generation of his family to serve as a Devil Dog.  William, who everyone calls Billy, did more than serve his country; he made history.

Soutra’s plan was simple enough.  He wanted to sign on the dotted line, enlist for a few years, do some growing up, and then return home with all kinds of stories to tell.  Once he was in the Corps, he wanted to do more than the average Marine (as if being a superhero isn’t enough excitement).  What Billy wanted to do is become a K-9 handler.

It was a tough program to get into, but Soutra managed it.  He initially worked with police dog breeds on basic patrol and scout work.  In 2006, the war was ramping up, and the Marines needed more dog handlers.  Following basic training, the Marine Corps selected Soutra to attend the specialized search dog (SSD) course, which at the time was a new frontier — its demand was the result of a new threat everyone was calling an Improvised Explosive Device (I.E.D.).  It was a competitive selection, and Soutra made the cut.

In February 2007, Soutra was posted to Security Battalion, Marine Corps Base, Camp Pendleton, CA.  His first dog post-graduation was a Belgian Malinois (also, Belgian Shepherd).  The team would deploy together in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom.  They performed combat patrols in Fallujah.  The dog, named Dina, was highly protective and intelligent.  She responded to hand signals from Soutra.  In 2008, Billy and Dina returned to Camp Pendleton.  Dina was seven years old; she was ready for retirement.

His next dog was a completely black male German Shepherd named Posha.  His reputation was aggressive and fearless; he didn’t play nice with the other animals.  Posha was an Alpha Male. During their deployment to Iraq in 2009, Soutra and Posha’s teamwork was so precise and seamless that, in a rare event, the Marines meritoriously promoted Soutra to Sergeant and, by extension, Posha to Staff Sergeant.

As the Marine Corps was in the process of developing three Military Working Dog platoons, there was an immediate need for Soutra and Posha, which in 2010 took the team to Company B, 1st Marine Special Operations Battalion supporting Operation Enduring Freedom.  While patrolling with Afghan Commandos in Helmand Province, Soutra’s unit became pinned down by a complex ambuscade initiated by an I.E.D. that mortally wounded Soutra’s element leader, a staff sergeant.  In the following actions, Sergeant Soutra distinguished himself, earning the nation’s second-highest decoration for heroism on the battlefield.

With the team leader incapacitated, Soutra immediately assumed command of the element and, with complete disregard for his own life, moved across the open terrain to each commando’s position, orienting them and directing their fires upon the enemy.

Under intense fire, Soutra fearlessly moved forward with the team Corpsman to reach the fallen element leader.  While the Corpsman rendered aid, Sergeant Soutra placed a tourniquet on a severely wounded commando nearby and pulled him to safety.  Repeatedly exposing himself to enemy fire, he again moved from position to position to orient and direct friendly fire and accurately relay enemy information to supporting aircraft overhead. Professionally and calmly, Soutra enabled coordinated a successful evacuation of the casualties, personally carrying one of the wounded men 75 meters to safety.

Nearly 70 minutes later, Sergeant Soutra rallied the platoon and maneuvered them safely out of the kill zone, with Posha remaining at his side throughout the actions.  It was Soutra’s decisive leadership, his exceptional courage in the face of heavy enemy fire, and his complete dedication to duty that earned him the Navy Cross.

Official military news releases use phrases such as — “moving exposed down the line,” and “rushed into the kill zone,” and “flurries of insurgent machine gun and mortar fire.”  But when Soutra speaks of this period, he mostly speaks of his combat partner. He’ll even tell you that Posha owns half of that Navy Cross.  According to Soutra, “Posha made me the Marine I am today.”

Sergeant Soutra cannot say enough good things about Posha.  “During all of the gunfire, as we moved into the firefight, he didn’t hesitate, he didn’t cower, he did everything exactly when and how I did it for two straight days.  If he had faltered or balked at any point, it could have been different.”  He added, “He always reacted the same way. He saved my life.”

While Posha made it through the second combat deployment, he later succumbed to cancer and was euthanized in 2011.  His loss was particularly difficult for Billy Soutra.  In 2012, Soutra said, “It’s been a year now, but it still hurts when I think about how he got cancer and had to be put down.”

Posha’s ashes rest in an urn at a place ofSoutra’st Soutra’s bedside.  If Soutra has his way, his German Shepherd hero, now buried in his heart, will one day be buried with him — so that they’ll always be together.

Semper Fi, Posha.

Endnotes:

[1] The Continental Congress did vote to award George Washington, Horatio Gates, and John Paul Jones with gold medallions in recognition for their efforts in defeating the British forces, but none of these were awarded until after the end of the Revolutionary War, in 1790.

[2] The information gathered by Sergeant Bissell helped the Continental Army prepare for an attack on the British in New York City.

[3] Navy and Marine Corps officers were not eligible to receive the Medal of Honor until 1915.

[4] Later restored.

[5] Many European nations had a well-established custom of decorating servicemen for various levels of courage in the face of the enemy.

Military Working Dogs

Sniffing around for 3,000 years.

Introduction

It is true — war dogs served the Egyptians, Greeks, Persians, Britons, and Romans. They served as sentries, area security patrol dogs, and attack dogs. Atilla used large dogs in his campaigns, and these were often gifted among European royalty. Frederick the Great used them to carry messages, and the French used dogs to guard naval installations in the 1700s.

In East Asia, the 15th-century Vietnamese emperor Lé Loi raised a pack of over 100 hounds, tended and trained by Nguyễn Xí, whose skills earned him a promotion to the emperor’s commander of shock troops.

The first official use of dogs for military purposes in the United States was during the Seminole Wars. Union troops routinely destroyed packs of bloodhounds because they were used for hunting down runaway slaves. In the Civil War, hounds were employed to pass messages and guard prisoners. During World War I, dogs were used as mascots in propaganda and recruiting posters.

In the Marines — World War II

The Marine Corps decided to experiment with war dogs in the late summer of 1942. A new turn for the Marines, but not for the dogs — as I said, they’ve been doing warfare things for a long while. The only question was, should they use Mastiffs, as did the Romans — or Shih Tzu, like the French?

Previously, in the 1920s, a Marine serving as an officer in the Garde d’Haiti trained a dog to work at the point of his combat patrols to alert him to bandit ambuscades. Marine historians believe that it’s probable that this Marine’s experience was later responsible for suggesting the use of dogs in jungle warfare (Small Wars Operations).

In World War II, the Marine Corps war dog training program was initiated at the direction of the Commandant of the Marine Corps, who directed the Commanding General, Training Center, Fleet Marine Force, Marine Barracks, New River, North Carolina (designated Camp Lejeune in December 1942) to initiate a training program for dogs when personnel and material become available. Shortly after, one officer and 19 enlisted Marines began training at the Fort Robinson, Nebraska, dog school. Four additional Marines began temporary duty at Fort Washington, Maryland — also in connection with training dogs.

The plan was that upon completion of training, Marines in Nebraska would return to Camp Lejeune,  each with two dogs; the Marines at Fort Washington would return each with two messenger dogs. An additional twenty dogs would be procured by Miss Roslyn Terhune, given obedience training in Baltimore, and shipped to Camp Lejeune by the end of January 1943.

After procuring sixty-two dogs (42 from the Army), the Marine Corps received additional animals from various sources (Dogs for Defense, Inc., Doberman Pinscher Club of America, and private individuals willing to offer their animals as donations to the war effort). These were the primary sources of procurement of Marine Corps war dogs until 1 March 1945. After then, the Marine Corps and Coast Guard established and operated a joint procurement agency.

Marines considered an animal’s breed of secondary importance to the general excellence of war dogs. Still, the breeds found most suitable for German Shepherds (Alsatians), Belgian Sheepdogs, Doberman Pinschers, Collies, Schnauzers, Airedales, Rottweilers, and some mixtures of these animals. Other breeds could be acceptable, provided the individual animal met the required specifications in other respects.

Dogs accepted into the Corps had to be one to five years of age, of either sex, 25 inches high, weighing at least 50 pounds, pass a rigorous physical examination, and be proven not to be gun shy.

In the earliest days, the Marines highly regarded the Doberman Pinscher, rightly or wrongly, because:

(1) It was generally believed that the shorthaired Doberman was more adaptable to the heat of the tropics than many of the long-haired breeds (dog experts and fanciers held divided opinions on this point)

(2) Dog handlers were almost unanimous in their praise of the Doberman Pinscher and the German Shepherd for scout and messenger work; and,

(3) In the early days of the war dog training program, the Doberman Pinscher Club of America procured a large proportion of the dogs enrolled, which means that the emphasis was on Dobermans — hence an early preponderance of this breed over others.

However, the Marine Corps clarified that it had not established a policy favoring Doberman Pinschers over any other breed. In early 1945, the Marine Corps declined an invitation to have some of its Dobermans participate in a show out of concern that others may interpret that the Marines preferred one breed over another.

Most of the first dogs shipped overseas (the 1st War Dog Platoon) were Doberman Pinschers; the remainder were German or Belgian Shepherds. 

When the Marine Corps initiated its war dog program, the Army, Navy, and Coast Guard had already instituted working dog programs with established training centers with several training programs for different purposes. The Marine Corps, however, is a combat organization. Senior officers saw no point in dedicating manpower resources unless dogs contributed directly to killing the enemy or reducing combat casualties. Consequently, Marine war dogs were confined to two types:

Scout and messenger dogs. At that time, the 1st Marine Division was still fighting on Guadalcanal. It was apparent that the South Pacific plans of the Joint Chiefs of Staff for a march up the Solomons chain meant that Marines would continue to operate in jungle terrain for a while at least, where concealment by the enemy was relatively easy. Infiltration tactics were the order of the day.

At first, it was difficult to find trainers thoroughly appreciating this combat angle. Marine planners initially selected trainers because they had civilian experience training dogs. Senior officers at HQMC visualized this program as one involving dog training — for training dogs rather than teaching them for a combat role. This lack of appreciation for reality training made combat Marines hesitant to volunteer for the program. It soon became apparent that if dogs were to be helpful in combat, their trainer and handler would have to be good combat Marines, capable of scouting and patrolling, with the dog being the means of increasing the radius of operations.

At the same time, operations officers understood that tactical situations might dictate a need for messenger dogs, and the best animals for that mission were the Dobermans and German Shepherds. There were other great breeds, as well — it was only that Dobermans and Shepherds performed in a consistently exceptional manner.

The training cycle at War Dog Training Company (Camp Lejeune) lasted 14 weeks. Selection for specific skill training took two weeks — and a time when dogs and Marines became acquainted with one another. Two Marines, selected for their experience in handling dogs, were assigned to each dog as trainer and attendant — a relationship carried into combat: two Marines and their dog forming a “dog unit.”

The next six weeks were devoted to training the dogs to interpret and obey the various commands and to familiarize the men with their dogs’ mental workings and reactions. Successful training was accomplished only through intelligent, patient, and sympathetic handling and treatment, and the chief reliance was made solely on praise and scolding. The final six weeks of the course were given to more advanced work, including combat work, which meant attacking any person or place the dog had become alert on command.

The initial advanced training for scout dogs started with the dog being fastened to a chain fixed to a post or wall with his handler beside him. A stranger approached threateningly, the handler commanding the dog to “watch.” When the dog showed aggressiveness towards the stranger, the latter ran away, and the handler praised the dog.

As training progressed from day to day, the dog was shifted from the chain to the leash in the hands of the handler, and the work was continued until the dog attacked persons, first on the training field and later in the woods or jungle. In the end, the dog was always alerted to discover the enemy when put on “watch” by his handler. The manner of his alerting could take various forms, one might strain at the leash, another show general excitement, another by crouching. Whatever the method, the handler, during the training, learned to “read” his dog’s reactions and act accordingly.

Messenger dogs were trained by first having one of the handlers move away a few yards. The other handler then put the messenger collar on the dog and ordered him to “report.” The first handler then called the dog and praised him when the dog reported. By slow degrees, the distance between the distant handler and the dog was increased until the former was out of sight and sound. Finally, the messenger dog would travel several miles from one handler to the other. This way, communication could be established between patrols, outposts, and the command post.

Throughout their training, the dogs, both Scout and Messenger, and their handlers were regularly subjected to small arms and high explosive gunfire.

The dog handlers were selected for their intelligence, character, physical ability, and any previous training as scout snipers (without dogs). When such men were unavailable, they had to be trained as scout-snipers concurrently with dog handling. Since dogs, from the point of view of training, can only respond successfully over limited periods, it was possible to spend half the time of the men training dogs and half the time training the men as scout-snipers. Paradoxically, the dog on duty could outperform a human in alertness, lack of sleep, and general condition, but in actually learning his lessons, it was found necessary to give frequent breaks and not spend too many hours a day on the lessons. Previous experience as a dog handler was not a prerequisite, but men who had associated with animals and had that indefinable ability to read their minds and understand them were the most successful.

No known means of compelling a man to be an expert dog handler existed. Many of the best handlers came from farms that had handled hunting dogs and farm stock. Some men soon learned they were not war dog men and were immediately transferred to other duties. In the same way, the dogs demonstrating that they did not have the qualities of a war dog in the Marine Corps were returned to their former owners.

Before leaving the War Dog Training Company at Camp Lejeune, the men, and dogs were formed into platoons consisting of 1 officer, 65 men, and 36 dogs (18 scout and 18 messenger). One man was assigned to each of the 18 scout dogs as handler, and two men to each of the 18 messenger dogs as handlers. The unit was further divided into three squads composed of 6 scout dogs — 6 handlers, 6 messenger dogs — 12 handlers, and a noncommissioned officer in charge. In addition, there were six supernumeraries, two for each squad, which provided relief for the regular handler in case of illness or casualty, and a platoon sergeant.

Each Marine infantry regiment incorporated a war dog platoon. An officer serving on the regimental staff became the Commanding Officer’s advisor in using dogs and commanding the platoon. The tactical use of the dog platoon always depended upon the mission of the regiment and its subordinate units. The war dog platoon could be employed as a unit or subdivided as needed.

The first Marine Corps dog unit sent to the Pacific was the 1st Marine War Dog Platoon, arriving in the South Pacific on 11 July 1943. This unit went into the Bougainville operation while attached to the 2d Marine Raider Regiment. Marine Raiders were enthusiastic over the performance of the war dogs during Bougainville.

Marine War Dogs also served on Guam, Iwo Jima, Okinawa — and during occupation duty in mainland Japan following the surrender.

In Vietnam

The Vietnam War introduced American troops to a new kind of warfare. Patrolling inside thick, triple-canopy jungles was dangerous by day and even more perilous by night. Enemy fighters used the jungle to their advantage, employing guerilla tactics (such as ambushes, mines, tunnels, and traps) in ways that U.S. troops hadn’t encountered before. A well-trained dog became an extension of his handler’s senses — seeing, hearing, and smelling otherwise undetectable danger.

The German Shepherd (Alsatian) was the most common service dog in the Vietnam War, used for scouting, sentry duty, mine/tunnel detection, and water patrols. Labrador retrievers were also widely used, primarily as trackers. Dogs were trained to alert their handlers to hidden dangers, from snipers to tripwires and weapons caches. Dogs could even detect enemy fighters submerged in rivers, breathing through hollow reeds, and waiting to attack American watercraft.

War analysts claim that these animals (and their handlers) are credited with saving as many as 10,000 U.S. lives and preventing certain injuries for countless more. They were so effective that they became special targets for the enemy, who began attacking kennels and offering bounties for the shoulder patch of a dog handler or the tattooed ear of a service dog. Many handlers wanted to bring their dogs home to America when the war ended. But in a decision by a Democrat-run Defense Department, these dogs were classified as equipment. At this time, dog handlers were not allowed to adopt their animals. Most animals were left behind, transferred to the South Vietnamese Army, systematically euthanized, or abandoned. America’s war dogs were the only combat troops that never went home.

The Great Enterprise — Part 2

Land the Marines

On 18 December 1903, Secretary of the Navy William Moody directed the Commandant of the Marine Corps, Brigadier General George F. Elliott, to personally report to the President of the United States.[1]  His orders from President Roosevelt were to “proceed in person, taking passage aboard USS Dixie, from League Island to Colón, Panama. Take command of the entire force of United States Marines and seamen that may be landed for service in the State of Panama.”

The President’s order was significant because no Commandant had been ordered into the field since Colonel Commandant Archibald Henderson was sent to Florida to deal with the Indians in 1836. Moreover, no commandant has been ordered into the field since 1903.

Why would the President order the Marine Corps Commandant into the field? President Roosevelt had great trust and confidence in the Navy-Marine Corps to carry out his orders without delay or fuss.[2]  Faced with the possibility of conflict in Panama in late 1903, Roosevelt instinctively reached out for sea power. This time, however, he needed naval infantry, as well. When Panamanian revolutionaries declared independence, Colombia threatened to use force to recover its lost province. General Elliott’s presidential mission was one of the most strategically audacious gambits of the early 20th century. When he sailed south to assume command of the rapidly growing force of U.S. Marines, he carried plans for the invasion of Colombia and the occupation of one of its major cities.

Based on Colombia’s behavior in early to mid-1903, President Roosevelt anticipated that Colombia would likely attempt to retake its lost province. In mid-November, Washington began forwarding intelligence reports to U.S. military and naval commanders concerning Colombian troop movements —reports estimating that as many as 15,000 soldiers were moving toward Panama.

Rear Admiral Henry Glass (Commander, Pacific Squadron) at Panama City and Rear Admiral Joseph Coghlan (Commander, Caribbean Squadron) at Colón believed that Panamanian weather would serve the interests of the Americans. Both officers remained confident of the fighting spirit and strength of the U. S. Marines in Panama, and both admirals reported to Washington that there was no chance that a Colombian force would advance upon them until after the dry season. Admiral Glass must have developed a case of indigestion a few days after learning that a Colombian expedition of 1,100 men had already tested an overland route into Panama.

President Roosevelt had received that same report from a separate source in Colombia. Roosevelt was informed that the Colombians intended to establish a forward base at the mouth of the Atrato River, near the Panamanian border. Moreover, American diplomats reported deep-seated anger toward Americans in Bogota’s capital city.

The new government of Panama was still organizing. It did not have a force able to defend against a significant assault by Colombian troops — and it was clear to all concerned that Colombia intended to reclaim its province. It was up to the Americans to defend the new state of Panama — it was up to the Marines.

As reports of a likely invasion started flowing into his headquarters, Admiral Glass wired Washington for instructions on the extent of his authority to defend the new republic. On 10 December, Secretary Moody drafted a reply that would order Glass to establish camps of fully equipped Marine battalions at inland points to forcibly prevent hostile entry by land into the State of Panama. The draft also directed that he maintain good communication between Marine ground units and Navy vessels and that he cut trails and buy or hire pack animals as necessary to support overland expeditions. Moody’s order was never sent, however. When Moody presented his draft to the President, Roosevelt ordered him to hold off until the matter could be considered in greater depth.

The next day the Secretary of the Secretary of the Navy, presumably acting on Rosevelt’s further consideration, transmitted an order that marked a dramatic shift in the rules of engagement for U.S. forces in Panama: “Establish strong posts, men and Marines with artillery in the direction of the Yavisa or other better positions for observation only and rapid transmission of information but do not forcibly interfere with Colombian forces advancing by land.”

Secretary Moody again changed the rules of engagement a week later. The Secretary directed Glass to assume an almost entirely defensive role. In doing so, he retreated from previous instructions from Washington, which ordered Glass to defend all territory within 50 miles of the Panama Railroad, which carried a vast amount of commercial goods across the narrow Isthmus and thus represented the most commercially and strategically important Panamanian national asset.

According to this clarification, telegraphed in cipher, Moody’s instructions to Glass on 11 December were: “… maintain posts in the vicinity of Yavisa for observation only. Do not have posts beyond support from ships or launches. Withdraw your posts if liable to be attacked. The government intends to continue active defense against hostile operations near the railroad line on the IIsthmus and for its protection. Disregard all previous instructions that may appear to conflict with these.”

Roosevelt’s earlier threats may have been bluster, but it is also possible that Colombia’s military expedition caused Roosevelt to reconsider America’s long-term interests in the region. There’s also a third possibility: Roosevelt shifted his strategy for dealing with Colombia. His new strategy? A Marine assault in Colombia.

General Elliott assumed his duties as the tenth Commandant of the Marine Corps on 3 October 1903 —one month before the revolution in Panama. Elliott was the only Marine Corps Commandant educated at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. He made the unusual decision to accept a commission in the Marines late in 1870. Subsequently, his exemplary performance of duty in Cuba during the Spanish-American War and in the Philippines during the insurgency against the American occupation resulted in his rapid promotion.

In mid-December 1903, President Roosevelt called upon Elliott’s knowledge of tropical warfare in dispatching him to Panama. After meeting with Secretary Moody on 18 December, General Elliott proceeded to assemble his force. The Commandant made it clear to his officers that the men needed to be prepared for service in “heavy marching order” and for rapid movement and sustained combat.

On 11 December, the cruiser U.S.S. Prairie departed Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, with a battalion of Marines under the command of Major Louis C. Lucas. Arriving at Colón on the 13th, Lucas took his Battalion into camp at Bas Obispo. At League Island, the auxiliary cruiser U.S.S. Dixie recently returned from delivering Major John A. Lejeune’s nearly 400 Marines to Panama, embarked Elliott’s two additional Marine battalions, the first under the command of Major James E. Mahoney, the second led by Major Eli K. Cole. With the combined force of 642 Marines, General Elliott departed Philadelphia on 28 December and arrived at Colón on 3 January 1904. The 1st Provisional Marine Brigade was thus formed.

General Elliott’s priorities included establishing his Marines in the field and realigning the command structure to match the size of his force. Ellio ordered Major Cole’s Battalion to proceed to Empire, a town along the railroad approximately 30 miles from Colón; there, they would take quarters alongside Lejeune’s Battalion, which had come ashore on 4 November to coerce a Colombian Battalion into leaving the newly declared republic.

Lejeune’s men then spent the intervening month providing light security and communications relay before receiving orders to move into base camp at Empire. Major Lejeune’s professionalism and attention to detail (as well as the welfare of his Marines) led him to order an extensive reworking of the existing facilities of the former French Canal Company’s buildings at Empire. New freshwater and sewage systems were installed, jungle growth cleared, and the houses for the Marines cleaned and disinfected with healthy doses of carbolic acid. Only then did Lejeune allow his Marines to move into the quarters they would occupy for most of the following year. Lejeune’s and Cole’s battalions were designated 1st and 2nd Battalions, respectively, 1st Marine Regiment, Colonel W. P. Biddle (pictured right), Commanding.

Major James Mahoney’s Battalion proceeded to Bas Obispo, where it was quartered alongside Major Lucas’s Marines. These two units comprised the 2nd Marine Regiment, Colonel L. W. T. Waller (pictured right), Commanding.[3]  Both regiments, together, counted approximately 1,100 men.

General Elliott’s priorities also included reporting to the senior Navy officers in the country to present his orders.  He first called on Admiral Coghlan at Colón.  Shortly thereafter, he rode a train across the isthmus to meet with Admiral Glass.  To each, he presented a letter from the Secretary of the Navy, part of which read: “The Department forwards herewith, in charge of Brigadier General Elliott, USMC, a plan for the occupation of Cartagena, Colombia.  As will be seen, the plan contemplates occupation against a naval enemy, but the information it contains and the strategy involved may be readily applied to the present situation.”

General Elliott’s plan was almost certainly a regional modification to several operational plans formulated during the late 1890s. The plan was a bold military and diplomatic strategy that reflected well on the sophistication of American military planning that had been noticeably lacking throughout most of the nineteenth century. After nearly five years of frustrating American involvement against jungle-based Filipino insurrectionists, and two months of armed reconnaissance in Panama, President Roosevelt recognized the futility of defending Panama’s numerous bays, ill-defined borders, and porous mountain passes. He, therefore, chose to forgo a defensive strategy in favor of offensive action on a battlefield of his own choosing.

The battlefield of President Roosevelt’s choosing was Cartagena, no doubt anticipating that with U.S. Marines walking post inside his capital city, the President of Columbia would prefer a negotiated settlement. The naval force would first capture the port and customs house, then its defense installations, and then occupy the city itself. If the plan was successful, Roosevelt would dictate terms.

In the meantime, General Elliott instituted a training program to maintain his Marines at a high level of combat readiness. Simultaneously, he dispatched his forces on quick “out-‘n-back” expeditions that fulfilled the dual purposes of maintaining security while building Marine’s understanding of the surrounding countryside.

On 21 January, General Elliott reported that he had constructed rifle ranges in the two camps and directed the regiments to practice their marksmanship with rifles and automatic weapons. The Marines also practiced assault tactics, entrenching procedures, and the construction of obstacles to slow and confuse a counter-attacking enemy force. In short, General Elliott knew these were the skills his Marines would need to capture and defend Cartagena. Marine commanders dispatched reconnaissance parties throughout the small country to map roads and trails. This effort resulted in the first comprehensive survey of the isthmus of Panama. Meanwhile, the Leathernecks’ morale and discipline remained high — with a few minor exceptions, of course.

Word soon came to the Marines —a rumor— that Colombian insurgents planned to poison their water supply. General Elliott acted immediately: he ordered that anyone attempting to tamper with the water supply be shot on sight. Admiral Glass quickly reminded the General, “a state of war does not exist on the Isthmus of Panama.” Perhaps Elliott should simply take additional precautions to guard his water barrels. General Elliott no doubt appreciated the Admiral’s advice but let his order stand.

Meanwhile, Secretary Moody wrote to update Elliott on the situation at hand. After expressing his pleasure with the professionalism displayed by the Commandant and his staff throughout their deployment to Panama, the Navy secretary informed him, “If Colombia actually begins hostilities against us, a Brigade of the Army will proceed to the Isthmus.” This force, Moody cryptically explained, would allow Elliott to disengage his Marines in Panama and turn his attention to another “important” duty.

If Colombia decided to accept the new status quo in Panama, the secretary suggested Elliott’s force might take part “in some operations connected with the winter maneuvers.” Moody also enjoined Elliott to communicate frequently with Washington and clarified who the intended recipient of the communiqués would be: “Let the Department know through the proper channels of your daily operations. Remember, the Department is always annoyed by a long silence, and please also remember that the Army, which has only a couple of officers down there, is furnishing the President every day with pages of cipher cable, much of which, though dealing with small matters, is of considerable interest.  Let your scouting be thorough and extend a long distance and give us daily accounts of it.“

On 12 January 1904, following a cabinet meeting, Secretary of War Elihu Root issued a statement denying any plan on the part of the United States to dispatch troops to Panama to fight Colombian forces. This appears to have been classic disinformation. While Army troops would be dispatched to Panama in the event of a Colombian invasion of the new republic, the real strategic response would come from the Marines on the ground in Panama. But they were not intended to battle Colombians in Panama; they would fight Colombians — and do it in Colombia.

By the end of January 1904, General Elliott’s brigade of Marines, backed by ships of the Pacific and Caribbean squadrons, were ready to assault Cartagena to ensure the continued independence of Panama. The invasion, of course, never took place. Colombia protested, probed, and negotiated but never seriously attempted to reoccupy its former province and, hence, never triggered Roosevelt’s audacious plan.

A treaty between Panama and the United States, the Isthmian Canal Convention, was ratified by the U.S. Senate on 23 February 1904 and signed by President Roosevelt two days later. According to its terms, the United States guaranteed the independence of the Republic of Panama.

General Rafael Reyes-Prieto, commander-in-chief of the Colombian Army and presumptive political heir to the country’s presidency, had traveled to Panama shortly after the revolution in an attempt to lure the nascent republic back into the Colombian fold, but on realizing he would be unsuccessful, he continued on to the United States. There, was treated with every courtesy, but when the question of Panama’s independence was raised, it was understood, in the words of a contemporary observer, “that what has been done could not be undone.” Reyes understood that American public opinion was behind Roosevelt’s policy of upholding the revolution in Panama.

Finally, Reyes hoped that the $10 million promised to Colombia under the rejected Hay-Herrán Treaty might still find its way into the country’s treasury. And by the end of January 1904, rumors that Colombia would “sooner or later receive a certain financial consolation for her loss of territory provided she abstains from violent proceedings” were circulating throughout Washington — and that’s what happened.

By the middle of March, Colombian troops operating along the Panamanian frontier were withdrawn, and the government declared that it did not intend to invade its former territory. In 1921 the U.S. Senate ratified the Thomson-Urrutia Treaty that provided Colombia $25 million for the loss of Panama.

A large portion of the 2d Marine Regiment was withdrawn from Panama on 14 February 1904 and redeployed to Guantanamo Bay to take part, as Secretary Moody had previously suggested, in annual winter maneuvers. General Elliott and his staff departed two days later, leaving Colonel Waller in command of the 800 remaining Marines.

On 7 March, Colonel Waller took a battalion back to League Island, leaving Major Lejeune behind with his original Battalion of 400 men to provide security aBattalionaissance on the isthmusIsthmusBattalionBalion remained for another nine months. U.S. Marines would remain a presence in Panama until 1912 when Captain John F. Hughes led his force of 389 men home.

Except — I served in Panama during the emergency of 1964 while a member of Company E, 2nd Battalion, 8th Marines.

Sources:

  1. Wicks, D. H. “Dress Rehearsal: United States Intervention on the Isthmus of Panama, 1886.  Pacific Historical Review, 1990
  2. Collin, R. H. Theodore Roosevelt’s Caribbean: The Panama Canal, the Monroe Doctrine, and the Latin American Context (1990)
  3. Graham, T. The Interests of Civilization: Reaction in the United States Against the Seizure of the Panama Canal Zone, 1903-1904. Lund Studies in International Relations, 1985.
  4. Nikol, J. and Francis X. Holbrook, “Naval Operations in the Panama Revolution, 1903.” American Neptune, 1977.
  5. Turk, R. “The Uni ed States Navy and the Taking of Panama, 1901-1903.” Military Affairs, 1974.

Endnotes:

[1] George Frank Elliott (30 November 1846 – 4 November 1931) was promoted to Colonel in March 1903 and advanced to Brigadier General on 3 October 1903 when he assumed the post of Commandant of the Marine Corps.

[2] See also: Handsome Jack.

[3] See also: He Served on Samar; Major Waller’s Court; Sergeant Major Quick.

The Great Enterprise — Part 1

Introduction

The start date for history is that first moment in time when a human being recorded some past event — that, were it not for the record of that event, we could not know about it.  In Panama, that moment occurred in 1501, when Rodrigo de Bastidas began his exploration of the Isthmus of Panama’s east coast.  This is not to say that there were no human beings in Panama — only that we don’t know very much about them beyond the guestimates of archeologists and anthropologists.

Christopher Columbus’s fourth voyage in 1502 took him in a southeasterly direction from the upper region of Central America to the areas of Bocas del Toro, Veragua, the Rio Chagres and Portobello (named by Columbus).  In these early times, Spanish explorers referred to the Isthmus of Panama as Tierra Firme.

Several years later, the Spanish Crown granted Alonso de Ojeda and Diego de Nicuesa the right to colonize the area between the Gulf of Uraba (northern Colombia) and present-day Honduras.  The plan was to create a unitary administration somewhat similar to what later became Nueva España (New Spain (Mexico)).  Tierra Firme was later appointed to control over present-day Jamaica and several other Caribbean islands.  Vasco Nunéz de Balboa created the first permanent settlement, called Santa Maria la Antigua del Darien (later, Dariena) (northern Colombia) in 1513, from which he began his famed expedition — one that made him the first European to set eyes on the Pacific Ocean — which he named the South Sea.

It was Balboa’s fantastical descriptions of the isthmus that prompted King Ferdinand II to name this new  territory “Golden Castile.” Ferdinand appointed Pedro Arias Divila (also Pedrarias) (a veteran soldier) as its governor.  He arrived in the New World in June 1514 with 22 ships and 1,500 men.  In 1519, Pedrarias moved his capital to Castilla del Oro, founding a new location for a city he named Nuestra Señora de la Asunción de Panamá (Panama City).  Without any concrete evidence to support this contention, the origin of the word “Panama” is believed of native origin, its meaning “many fish.” Pedrarias was also instrumental in settling present-day Nicaragua.

Panama remained part of the Spanish Empire for over 300 years.  In the total of the Americas, no other region would prove to be as strategically or economically important.  Encroachment attempts by other European countries to seize Panama prompted the Spanish Crown to establish the Viceroyalty of New Granada in 1713 and Panama was placed under its protection.  Unfortunately, the capital of New Granada was located at Santa Fe de Bogotá — its remoteness was a major obstacle in effective governance.  Equally problematic was the competition between the Viceroyalty of Bogotá and the Viceroyalty of Peru — a somewhat infantile competition that lasted for over a hundred years.

The Spanish Empire reached its zenith under Habsburg rule in the late 18th century.  But as order unraveled in Europe in 1808, political instability in new world colonies increased as well.  It was the beginning of the Latin American independence movement that swept through Spanish-American colonies like a cholera pandemic.

New Granada finally achieved full independence from Spain in 1819, freeing Panama as well.  The citizens of Panama considered uniting with Peru or other Central American federations but eventually joined Gran Colombia at the urgings of the much-admired Simón Bolívar.  Panama declared its independence in 1821.

The Canal

The very notion of a man-made canal between the Pacific Ocean and the Caribbean Sea originated in the 1500s when Señor Balboa envisioned a shortcut across the narrow isthmus.  But at the time, such an undertaking was deemed impossible — which is where the matter stood until around 1826 when U.S. Secretary of State Henry Clay considered the advantages of a canal across the newly independent Federal Republic of Central America.  By this time, of course, American engineers had bragging rights over the construction of the Erie Canal — demonstrating that men were not just dreamers, they were also doers. 

Secretary Clay’s idea (and those of others) was to cut across Nicaragua to the lake of the same name, which would, he supposed, provide a ready supply of water for a canal with locks to raise and lower ships for the journey from the Pacific and Atlantic.  Congress, however, turned Clay down because of Nicaragua’s political instability.  There was some talk about the likelihood that Nicaragua would separate into a half-dozen countries.  If this should happen, the instability would interfere with American ambitions.  In fact, political power in Colombia changed several times.[1]

In 1843, Great Britain announced its plans to embark on a canal project, focusing its attention on Panama.  Compared to Nicaragua, the distance in Panama coast-to-coast was less, but it too was a fleeting idea — one taken up by the famed engineer Ferdinand de Lesseps, builder of the Suez Canal.

In 1846, the United States signed the Mallarino-Bidlack Treaty with New Granada (Colombia y Panama) — a mutual cooperation treaty granting the U.S. significant transit rights within the isthmus, as well as certain military powers to suppress social conflicts and independence struggles targeting Colombia.  Over the years, the United States intervened in Panama many times — usually confronting rebellious civilians, peasant guerrillas, or independence struggles.

From the beginning of the California Gold Rush (1848), the U.S. spent the next seven years building a trans-isthmian railway, a project which (according to the Mallarino-Bidlack Treaty), granted the U.S. political and economic access to Panamanian affairs.  The province of Panama, of course, was part of New Granada — later an independent country of the same name.

In March 1885, Colombia reduced its military presence in Panama by reassigning troops to quell disturbances in Cartagena.  Panamanian insurgents, with fewer soldiers to shoot at them, took full advantage of the situation, and this, in turn, triggered U.S. intervention pursuant to the Treaty of 1846.  

Between 1869 – 1877, U.S. President Ulysses S. Grant ordered seven survey expeditions to study the feasibility of a cross-isthmus canal.  As travel and trade in the Western hemisphere increased, the desirability of a canal increased.  The distance between New York and San Francisco around Cape Horn, through treacherous seas, was 13,000 miles.  The journey took months.

The War of the Pacific

This conflict involved Chile vs. the Bolivia-Peruvian alliance that lasted between 1879 – 1884.  It was a territorial dispute that eventually increased the territory of Chile.  Initially, the argument involved Bolivia and Chile; Peru was dragged into the fray because of its alliances with Bolivia.  Chilean armed forces occupied the Bolivian port city of Antofagasta on 14 February 1879.

Oddly, hostilities weren’t declared between Chile and Bolivia until 1 March, and another month passed before Peru joined the fight.  Initially, the fight was a naval campaign with Chile struggling to establish a seaborne supply corridor for forces operating in the world’s driest desert.  Subsequently, Chile’s land campaign became overwhelming.  Bolivia withdrew after late May 1880, and Chilean forces occupied Peru’s capital in January 1881.  Afterward, the fight became a guerrilla war that simply wore down Peruvian forces to the point of agreeing to territorial concessions.  The three countries signed peace accords in 1883 and 1884.

The U.S. Navy had no part in this war, but this is not to say that there was no connection to the United States.  During the war, a lone U.S. Navy ship sat in the harbor at Callao, Peru — ostensibly to protect American interests during the war’s final stages.  The ship was U.S.S. Wachusett (commissioned in 1861), and its commanding officer was a somewhat mediocre seaman named Alfred Thayer Mahan.  Sitting in a foreign port isn’t a very exciting duty, although it was probably great fun for the crew.  As for Captain Mahan, he spent his time reading books in  the English Gentleman’s Club.  Historians tell us that it was at Callao that Mahan began to formulate his concept of sea power.

The Chilean Navy had recently acquired a protected cruiser from a British shipbuilder known as Armstrong-Mitchell in 1882 or 1883.  A protected cruiser is constructed in such a way as to provide maximum protection to that area of the ship most critical to its operation: the propulsion plant and its magazines.  The Chilean navy commissioned this ship Esmeralda and proclaimed her the swiftest and most powerfully armed cruiser in the world.  In 1885, Esmeralda appeared along the coast of Panama to observe U.S. activities ashore.  The ship was, in its time, an awesome sight, particularly when compared to the wooden-hulled ships of the line of the United States Navy.

President McKinley and Roosevelt’s Canal

In 1897, President McKinley became the 25th President of the United States.  He was an advocate of protectionist policies and tough diplomacy.  Within twelve months, McKinley took the United States to war with a major European power (although one on standing on its last Imperial legs).  The United States won the Spanish-American War (in record time), but that feat had more to do with Spanish incompetence than American might.  The war might have gone “the other way” had it not been for the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps … and one very talkative Assistant Secretary of the Navy whose name was Theodore Roosevelt.

The condition of the American navy following the Civil War was abysmal.  The Navy’s ships were rotting at the waterline.  The Navy and Congress were guilty of criminal neglect.  The Navy for not raising holy hell about the state of its ships, and Congress for failing to provide sufficient funds to maintain the fleet.  Worse, perhaps, the Navy didn’t have much of a mission, and its officers were retired on active duty.  In short, the U.S. Navy was a disgrace.

How bad was it, really?  In 1884, a French naval officer visited a U.S. Navy ship and complimented its captain for the ship’s brilliant display of antique weaponry — suggesting, of course, that an American ship of the line was a floating museum.  A year later, President Grover Cleveland’s first message to Congress was a scorching indictment of the U.S. Navy.  In the President’s opinion, what made the state of the Navy humiliating was that Italy, Spain, and Holland boasted a more powerful navy than the United States — and Chile had more powerful ships, as well.  Captain Mahan must have been deeply embarrassed.

The impetus for a modernized, stronger Navy capable of projecting U.S. power overseas was competition for colonial possessions, the creation of numerous coaling stations, and an 1889 war scare between the United States and Germany over territorial claims in the Samoan Islands.  Two years later, a Chilean mob attacked U.S. sailors on shore leave in Valparaiso, killing 2 and wounding 17. President Benjamin Harrison tried to take a hard line, but as soon as the President understood that Chile had a stronger navy than his own, he soon backed off.

In 1897, the U.S. Navy was not ready for war — simply “more ready” than the Army, and that wasn’t saying much.  The one service that was ready for war was the U.S. Marine Corps.  See also First Marine Battalion.

The one thing the U.S. Navy/Marine Corps did not lack in 1898 was a strategic vision.  Even though the U.S. and Spain had been at peace for over 80 years, Navy and Marine Corps thinkers imagined and contemplated war with Iberia and planned for it.  These men were keen observers of the conflict between Spain and the Cuban revolutionaries (1868 – 1878).

President McKinley, of course, was assassinated in 1901, which propelled Theodore Roosevelt into the presidency.  Arguably, the most important action President Theodore Roosevelt ever took in foreign affairs related to the construction of the Panama Canal.  It was controversial abroad —it was controversial at home.  Those who opposed the canal claimed that Roosevelt’s actions were unconstitutional.  The charge was possibly true — the denizens of Washington never worry about such things as violations of the U.S. Constitution.  Roosevelt, of course, was a man of action.

Driven by patriotic fervor, supported by the investments of a hundred-thousand investors and the expectation of great wealth, the Compagnie Universelle du Canal Interoceanique began work that would cross the Colombian isthmus of Panama and unite the Atlantic with the Pacific.  There was ample evidence that Lesseps had done his due diligence.

The Panama Railway had made in excess of $7 million in the first six years of its operations.  The railroad, which had cost upwards of 6,000 human lives to build, failed to dampen Mr. Lesseps’ enthusiasm.  The project would be a sea-level canal dug along the path of the Panama Railroad.   It would extend fifty miles in length (half as long as the Suez Canal), and it would cost around $132 million.  Lesseps estimated a project lasting 12 years.

The canal became a French project on 1 February 1881, but ultimately, it was another failed attempt.  Neither Lesseps nor any of his company was prepared for the harsh Central American environment.  Ultimately, Mr. Lesseps gave up 22,000 workers who died of one cause or another; all the money spent on the project was wasted, and the project ended in 1888.

Shortly after ascending to the presidency, Theodore Roosevelt spoke of the Panama Canal in a speech to Congress.  He argued enthusiastically, “No single great material work which remains to be undertaken on this continent is as of such consequence to the American people.” The President acted quickly.  In 1902, the United States reached an agreement to buy the rights to the French canal and property and its equipment for a sum of $40 million.  The U.S. then began to negotiate a treaty with the government of Colombia.  The U.S. Department of War would direct the excavation.  The American public sensed a scandal in the making — or worse, good money is thrown after bad.

In a short time, Colombia grew reticent in its negotiations.  Roosevelt and Panamanian business interests collaborated on the instigation of a revolution.  The battle lasted only a few hours because Colombian troops in the city of Colón accepted bribes to lay down their arms. On 3 November 1903, the Colombian province of Panama became the independent country of the same name.  And, since the U.S. initiated the hullaballoo in the first place, it assumed a parental interest in Panamanian affairs.  Members of the Roosevelt administration prepared Panama’s Constitution in advance of the “revolution,” the wife of a prominent Panamanian lobbyist sewed the country’s first flag (her husband became the Panamanian ambassador to the United States), and a treaty was signed that were favorable to American interests.  The United States promptly deposited $10 million to the Panamanian government.

(Continued next week)

Sources:

  1. Wicks, D. H. “Dress Rehearsal: United States Intervention on the Isthmus of Panama, 1886.  Pacific Historical Review, 1990
  2. Collin, R. H. Theodore Roosevelt’s Caribbean: The Panama Canal, the Monroe Doctrine, and the Latin American Context (1990)
  3. Graham, T. The Interests of Civilization: Reaction in the United States Against the Seizure of the Panama Canal Zone, 1903-1904.  Lund Studies in International Relations, 1985.
  4. Nikol, J. and Francis X. Holbrook, “Naval Operations in the Panama Revolution, 1903.” American Neptune, 1977.
  5. Turk, R. “The United States Navy and the Taking of Panama, 1901-1903.” Military Affairs, 1974.

Endnotes:

[1] The idea of a canal across Nicaragua did not end in the mid-1800s.  The United States ordered a survey in 1916 as a hedge against the unworkability of the Panama Canal, and the People’s Republic of China evaluated prospects in 2012.  Concern for the safety of Lake Nicaragua settled the matter — for now.

Banastre Tarleton

Introduction

There are two Banastre Tarleton’s.  The first one — the real one — is part of British Army history and, of course, that of the American Revolution.  The second Banastre is an invention of Hollywood writers and every historian content to evaluate history through 21st-century rose-colored lenses.

I have no inside information about what goes on inside Hollywood production studios.  I simply know that whenever Mel Gibson begins a project having anything to do with British history, the British always come out looking horrible.  He did that with the film about William Wallace, which was more fiction than fact — and he did it with the film The Patriot, where he painted Cornwallis as dishonorable and Banastre Tarleton as a war criminal.[1]  Placing “entertainment” aside, if that’s what fictional history is, Gibson and others are teaching their American audiences revisionist history.  Given the current state of education in the United States, one may argue that Americans don’t need any help learning the wrong history.

Taking another look

Banastre Tarleton was born on 21 August 1754.  I’ve read that he was either the second, third, or fourth of seven children of John Tarleton, the former lord mayor of Liverpool, a money lender, a merchant, and a slave trader.  Banastre was fortunate to have a wealthy father — just not lucky enough to be his father’s first born son.  Although his father paid for his education at prestigious Oxford University, his was a rather undistinguished learning experience.  He seemed more interested in drinking, gambling, and consorting with loose women than studying.  When his father died in 1773, Banastre inherited £5,000, which he promptly squandered.  The purchase of his military commission was a gift of his mother, who promised her son that he’d seen his last monetary gift from the home front.

What kind of person was Banastre Tarleton?  For a young man raised in the home of a slave trader, we might expect that he developed a cold-hearted worldview.  In later life, as a member of Parliament, Tarleton rigorously defended the slave trade (upon which his family’s fortunes rested), and he was known to verbally attack abolitionist politicians.

Coronet Tarleton arrived in North America in 1776 and was assigned rather mundane duties of an administrative manner.  It did not take him long to run up another £2,500 of debt.  We may not have heard any more about Banastre Tarleton were it not for the stunning defeat of General John Burgoyne at Saratoga in 1777.

A twenty-one-year-old Banastre Tarleton sailed from Cork in December 1775 with Lord Cornwallis.  Cornwallis’s mission was to capture Charleston, South Carolina.  This expedition failed, but in the following year, Tarleton joined the main British Army under General William Howe in New York.  Coronet Tarleton was assigned to Colonel William Harcourt.[2]

Coronet Tarleton was part of a scouting party ordered to gather information about the movements of General Charles Lee in New Jersey.  On 13 December 1776, Tarleton surrounded a house in Basking Ridge and forced General Lee, dressed in his nightgown, to surrender by threatening to burn down the house.  Lee surrendered.

Subsequently, Tarleton’s campaign service in 1776 earned him the position of brigade major; he was barely 22 years old.[3]  He was promoted to captain on 13 June 1778, having served in several combat engagements — including the Battle of Brandywine and others (1777 – 1778).  One such battle was an attack on a communications outpost in Easton Township, Chester County, Pennsylvania, which was guarded by Captain Henry Lee III.  In this battle, the patriots repulsed the British assault.  Captain Tarleton was wounded in this action.

Burgoyne’s defeat at Saratoga led senior British commanders to shift their efforts to the southern colonies, where they believed Loyalists would help them to win the war.  To help accomplish that, General Sir Henry Clinton created a British Legion from among the communities of British loyalists.  Formed in July 1778, the Legion initially consisted of several small loyalist militia units from New York, placed into a single organization of mounted infantry, cavalry, and “flying” artillery.[4] 

In 1778, Tarleton was 24 years old.  His mission was to patrol, track, raid, assault, shock, and destroy enemy guerrilla forces.  Between 1778 – 1782, the British Legion participated in 15 separate combat operations — but, by every account, Tarleton completed his mission enthusiastically, efficiently, and ruthlessly … giving rise to the claim that the young colonel was guilty of war crimes.

Any British notion that southern loyalists would save the day was a substantial miscalculation because what the British had to contend with in the Carolinas was the backcountry Scots-Irish who had been pushing British buttons since 1740.

In 1778, these hard-headed people (and their offspring) had become rebel militiamen and guerrillas.  Colonel Tarleton’s attitude was that if these people were going to ruthlessly attack British formations and baggage trains, then they should be prepared for some ruthlessness in return.  To his credit, Tarleton’s legion was constantly in the saddle, far afield from regular garrisons.  They seized what they needed to sustain themselves — from the King’s subjects, which was only proper.  These rebels were, after all, committing their treason on the King’s land.

At most, Tarleton had around 500 men in uniform.  On average, it was probably closer to 300.  When the Legion needed more men, Tarleton’s officers recruited them from among the loyalist communities (and rebel deserters).  He motivated the men by convincing them that they were the British Army’s elite fighters.  They distinguished themselves by wearing green uniforms rather than redcoats.  Tarleton’s standing order to his men was to give the enemy “fire and sword.”  And that’s what they did.

Waxhaws

Charleston, South Carolina, fell to General Sir Henry Clinton’s British forces on 12 May 1780.  A column of around 380 patriot reinforcements known as the Third Virginia Detachment, serving under Colonel Abraham Buford, failed to reach the city before it’s capitulation.  Once they realized that the city had fallen, they withdrew.  Buford’s command involved two companies of the 2nd Virginia Regiment, 40 light dragoons, and two six-pound cannons.

Having taken the city, General Clinton prepared to return to New York, appointing his deputy, Lieutenant General Cornwallis, to assume command of the southern army.  Even though a week had elapsed when Cornwallis learned of Buford’s presence, he dispatched Colonel Tarleton to pursue him.  At that time, Tarleton’s command consisted of around 230 Legionnaires, reinforced by 40 men from the 17th Light Dragoon and a three-pound cannon.

Colonel Tarleton aggressively moved his men 150 miles rapidly, catching up with Buford on the afternoon of 29 May.  The area in which the two forces caught sight of each other lies along the border of North and South Carolina — an area known as the Waxhaws.[5]  Colonel Tarleton sent a message to Buford demanding his surrender.  Initially, Buford refused and ordered his baggage and weapons train to continue moving northward in all due haste.  He then formed a battle line in an open field across his route of march, placing his infantry in a single line with orders not to fire until the British approached within ten yards.

While approaching Buford’s position, Tarleton organized his force into three attacking columns.  He deployed 120 British dragoons on his right flank, intending to dismount his infantry to fire upon the Americans and pin them down.  His center column consisted of his elite force, regulars of the 17th Light Dragoons and Legionnaires to charge straight ahead, and a left flank column of 30 legionnaires under his personal command, intending to sweep the American right flank and drive for their baggage and reserves.  Tarleton retained his only cannon in reserve.

Colonel Tarleton ordered his attack as soon as its elements were in position.  Buford’s men, having been ordered to withhold their fire, were overwhelmed by the speed and aggressiveness of the British assault.  Tarleton’s three columns devastated the American defenders.  As quickly as it had begun, the battle was over.  British casualties were slight, with five killed and 14 wounded.  The American losses were 113 men killed and 203 wounded — with Colonel Buford escaping to safety.  When Buford was out of danger, he reported the engagement as a massacre of surrendered men.  Even now, the American Battle Trust refers to this engagement as the Buford Massacre.

Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton tells us a different story.  In A History of the Campaigns of 1780 and 1781 in the Southern Provinces of North America (1787), Tarleton tells us that after arriving at Camden, he obtained intelligence from local citizens that Colonel Buford had quit Rugeley’s Mills on 26th May and was marching in all haste to join a corps thought to be marching on the road between Salisbury and Charlotte town in North Carolina.  With this information, Tarleton moved vigorously to prevent the union of these troops.

Tarleton’s men reached Rugeley’s Mill in daylight and learned that the Continentals were in full retreat some twenty miles down the road toward Catawba.  Motivated by his enthusiasm to meet the enemy, Tarleton quickened his pace, sending Captain Kinlock ahead with a message to the American commander: surrender his force.  Buford turned back to meet the British foe.

By this time, heat and humidity had defeated many of the British cavalry and dragoons, men who were so worn out that they began to drop out of the formation and fall into the rear of the column.  This was the condition of Tarleton’s men as he approached the Americans — and the commander realized that his men did not have the energy for a prolonged engagement.  This is why Tarleton decided to attack the enemy as soon as possible — and to prevent reinforcements from reaching the American line.  At this moment, the only circumstance favorable to the British light dragoons was the known inferiority of the American cavalry.

At 3 o’clock in the afternoon, the advanced guard of the British charged a sergeant and four men of the American light dragoon and made them prisoners.  Colonel Buford readied his 380 men for action, forming them in a single line with a small reserve, and ordered his baggage and wagons to continue their march.

Tarleton formed his men for an attack with haste.  He assigned 120 mounted men to the right flank under Major Cochrane.  He ordered Cochrane to dismount 60 dragoons to gall the Americans’ flank.  He directed Captain Corbet and Captain Kinlock to charge the center, and he would lead 30 men to sweep the American right flank.

Thus far, Buford had not fired upon Tarleton.  When the British arrived within fifty yards of the American line, Buford ordered the riflemen to present — but their officers ordered them to hold fire.  In accordance with Buford’s intention, the Americans would only have one shot before the British were inside the line.

The American riflemen took their shot when the British were within ten yards.  Colonel Tarleton’s horse was shot, and he collapsed with the animal.  Tarleton quickly recovered, but his men, thinking he was shot, unleashed their rage upon the Americans, and Buford’s battalion was soon broken and “no quarter” delivered before Tarleton could regain control of this force.

When the Americans had taken their shot, Tarleton’s horse was shot, and he collapsed with his horse.  Tarleton quickly recovered, but his men, thinking he was shot, unleashed their rage upon the Americans, and the battalion was soon broken with no quarter delivered before Tarleton could regain control of his men.  Given the over-stimulation and vindictiveness of the legionnaires, the loss of American officers and men was significant.

The wounded (American and British) of both parties were collected with all possible dispatch and treated with equal humanity.  The American officers and soldiers who were unable to travel were paroled the next morning and placed at the neighboring plantations and in a meeting house not far distant from the field of battle: Surgeons were sent from Camden and Charlotte town to assist them, and every possible convenience was provided by the British.

To dispel the idea popular among some American historians that General Cornwallis countenanced “war crimes” in his command, he actually did not seem to have much patience for misbehavior among his soldiers.  In 1781, Lord Cornwallis rode to the front of Tarleton’s regimental column and ordered Colonel Tarleton to dismount his regiment and have his men and officers stand at attention by their mounts.

Tarleton, as we now know, was one of Cornwallis’ favorite officers.  Was he too lax with his men?  Perhaps.  Although, what he may have lacked in disciplinary judgment, he made up for in his enthusiasm and battlefield courage.  As his men stood at attention, Lord Cornwallis and several civilians walked down the line looking at each trooper, inspecting each face.  From time to time, Cornwallis and the civilians engaged in hushed conversations.  Finally, Cornwallis ordered his guards to seize two men — a private and a sergeant and pulled them out of the ranks.  The two legionnaires appeared before a court martial charged with rape and robbery.  Found guilty, Cornwallis had them hanged.

The British Army could be brutal.  Some will argue that harshness to influence discipline is part of military virtue.  Either the men are disciplined, or they are not.  No doubt, Colonel Tarleton was feeling uncomfortable as he observed his men swinging from the gallows.  General Cornwallis had warned his favorite officer to bring his legionnaires to heel because he believed they were playing fast and loose with proper decorum as representatives of His Majesty’s Army.

There is little doubt that Tarleton’s command was ruthless.  War is a ruthless business, and there can be no doubt that rebellious colonists were traitors to the Crown.  Tarleton was walking a tightrope.  How much ruthlessness is acceptable?  Where does one draw the line?

In South Carolina, Francis Marion (also known as the Swamp Fox) had long served as a British and later state militia officer.  Marion never served in command of a field army or participated in a major engagement, but his expertise in irregular (guerilla) warfare earned him a promotion to brigadier general.  Throughout the southern campaign, Colonel Tarleton did everything within his power to disrupt and, if possible, capture General Marion — without success.

Marion was a popular son of South Carolina, and he had no problem gaining the support and assistance of local citizens.  Tarleton, on the other hand, unapologetically took what forage he needed to support his men.  South Carolinians were less inclined to support the rash British dragoon.  It was a matter of culture: Tarleton treated the people of South Carolina for what they were — the King’s subjects.  In time, even the loyalists began to resent Tarleton’s haughtiness and became less inclined to offer any support.

Colonel Tarleton was instrumental in helping General Cornwallis win the Battle of Camden in August 1780.  He also defeated Thomas Sumter at Fishing Creek (Catawba Fords) but was less successful with Sumter at Blackstock’s Farm (November 1780).

Colonel Tarleton’s forces were virtually destroyed on 17 January 1781 by General Daniel Morgan at the Battle of Cowpens.  Tarleton and 200 men managed to escape the battlefield.  Colonel William Washington commanded the rebel cavalry when attacked by Tarleton and two of his men.  Washington stopped Tarleton by aggressively assaulting him with his sword and challenging him by saying loudly, “Where is now the boasting Tarleton?”

A young coronet of the 17th Dragoons, Thomas Patterson, rode up to strike Washington but was shot and killed by Washington’s orderly.  In this encounter, Washington wounded Tarleton in his right hand, and Tarleton returned the favor by shooting Washington, wounding him in the knee, and also wounding his horse.  Washington, incensed, pursued Tarleton for sixteen miles, finally losing sight of him at the Goudylock Plantation. 

In Conclusion

Banastre Tarleton was a gallant military officer — one who took his duties seriously, and perhaps, in some instances, too seriously.  But he was no war criminal, and he did not die in a hand-to-hand fight with Mel Gibson.  Tarleton returned to Great Britain and entered the world of politics.  His combat wounds served him well as a returning hero.  Not everyone agreed with General Tarleton’s account of the Southern Campaign, of course … proving that the British Army, like most other armies, are highly political.

In 1812, Tarleton was commissioned to full general.  He anticipated being appointed to command British forces in the Peninsular War, but that assignment went to Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke Wellington.  Instead, Tarleton held military command in Ireland and England.

Sources:

  1. Bass, R. D. The Green Dragoon, Sandlapper Publications, 2003
  2. Reynolds, W. R. Jr. Andrew Pickens: South Carolina Patriot in the Revolutionary War.  McFarland & Company, 2012.
  3. Scotti, A. J.  Brutal Virtue: The Myth and Reality of Banastre Tarleton.  Heritage Books, 2002.
  4. Wilson, D. K. The southern strategy: Britain’s conquest of South Carolina and Georgia, 1775–1780. University of South Carolina Press, 2005. 
  5. Raddall, T. H.  Tarleton’s Legion.  Collections of the Nova Scotia Historical Society, 1949.
  6. Tarleton, B.  A History of the Campaigns of 1780 and 1781 in the southern provinces of North America.  1787.  Kindle Edition.

Endnotes:

[1] Historian Michael Bryant states that the first use of the term “war criminal” occurred in 1906 in a book on international law, suggesting also that the concept existed much earlier than that.

[2] Coronet was the lowest commissioned grade of the British Cavalry, equivalent to modern-day second lieutenant.

[3] A brigade major is the chief of staff of a brigade.  It is a job position, not a rank; however, such men commonly held the rank of major (but also captain), but intentionally below the rank of lieutenant colonel who generally served as officers commanding subordinate battalions.  Brigades major provided detail concerning and executed the intentions of the brigade commander.

[4] Flying artillery was a new concept in 1778.  It involved fast-moving cavalry, swift movement of artillery, and mounted infantry (dragoons) formed from Caledonian Volunteers, West Jersey Volunteers, Captain Kinloch’s independent New York Dragoons, Philadelphia Light Dragoons, the Prince of Wales’s American Volunteers, and the 16th Light Dragoons.  To lead the Legion, Tarleton was advanced to lieutenant colonel and ordered to move his 250 cavalry and 200 dragoons to the Carolinas.

[5] A geographical region extending beyond both sides of the North and South Carolina border within Lancaster, Union, and Mecklenburg counties.

John Arthur Hughes

Introduction

Courage, pluck, grit, and sand — all have similar colloquial meanings.  They are terms one might have overheard in a conversation between two men (not among the ladies).  They are words that refer to someone who has stamina, is physically and mentally tough, someone with a strength of character.

Author Mark Twain used such terms as grit and sand.  In Huckleberry Finn, Clemens wrote, “She had the grit to pray for Judas if she took the notion — there warn’t no backdown to her, I judge. You may say what you want to, but in my opinion, she had more sand in her than any girl I ever seen; in my opinion, she was just full of sand.”

Words reflect how we think, and Americans seem to admire someone who demonstrates a strength of character and physical and mental toughness. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, Mr. Clemens wasn’t the first to use such expressions.  They were slang in common use as early as 1862 and 1825, respectively.

Years ago, a cartoon circulated where I worked depicting a tiny mouse sitting hunched on its two hind legs, looking up into the sky.  A shadow appeared over the little mouse; it was an outline of a bird of prey.  Seconds before its demise, the little mouse displayed its pluck by giving the bird “the finger.”  The cartoon was very popular.  I may even have a copy of it among my papers.

We marvel at the toughness and resolve of our fellow man because such characteristics and attributes are part of America’s values.  This is why we read novels and develop affinities for the “good guys” who fight for justice or defend the weak.  Well, we at least used to admire such qualities.

Speaking of Pluck

The U.S. Medal of Honor is the highest combat award bestowed upon members of the Armed Forces to recognize gallant conduct in combat.  There are three medals, one each for the Army, Navy, and Air Force.  The U.S. Navy was the first to award a medal of honor in 1861.  The last Medal of Honor issued was in December 2021.  In total, the Medal of Honor has recognized the gallantry of 3,525 Americans, 618 of those posthumously.

Nineteen servicemen have received two Medals of Honor — of those, five “double recipients” received both the Army and Navy Medal of Honor for the same action, all of which occurred during World War I.[1]  Fourteen men received two medals of honor for separate actions.  Two of those men were U.S. Marines: Major General Smedley D. Butler and Sergeant Major Daniel J. Daley.  Numerous others received the Navy’s two highest awards: the Medal of Honor and the Navy Cross.  One of these men was John Arthur Hughes.

John Arthur Hughes had grit.  Some might even argue that he had True Grit.

Born on 2 November 1880 in Brooklyn, John Arthur Hughes was the son of William H. T. Hughes, a director of the Ward Steamship Line, and his wife, Olive.  John was educated at the prestigious Berkeley School, graduating in 1900.  Although John received a congressional nomination to attend the U.S. Military Academy, he failed the entrance examination.  By then, his father had died — leaving attendance at college out of the question.  Joining the U.S. Marine Corps was not out of the question.

Curious to type

John Hughes joined the Marines on 7 November 1900.  He stood roughly five feet ten inches tall, weighed less than 136 pounds, and had a slender build — which was not altogether different than most other young Americans.  Initially, Private Hughes was serious about his role as a Marine.  He focused on his duties and earned high praise from his superiors.  In 1901, John Hughes sewed on the rank insignia of a Marine corporal — and four months after that, the Marines promoted him to sergeant.

The early twentieth century was a period of opportunity in the Marine Corps.  In 1898, the Marine Corps had taken an unexpected turn from that of a group of sea-going bellhops to an amphibious force of lethal capabilities while projecting naval power ashore.  See also the First Marine Battalion, 1898.  In 1901, John Hughes was what the Marines in the 1960s might describe as “A.J. Squared Away.”

Following the American Civil War, the primary source of Marine Corps officer commissions came from graduating students of the U.S. Naval Academy.  But it was also a time when naval power projection became exceedingly complex.  The Navy had transitioned from sail to coal-fired ships, demanding sophisticated operating systems with keen instruments and electrical capacities throughout their ships.  The navy required a steady stream of highly qualified naval architects and engineers to operate and maintain these ships.  This meant that the navy could no longer afford to offer Marine Corps commissions to Naval Academy graduates; they needed men wearing the navy uniform.  But the Marines needed qualified officers, too.

In 1898, Colonel Commandant Charles Heywood petitioned the Secretary of the Navy for permission to offer commissions to well-educated individuals from civilian life (not associated with a service academy) and to highly qualified enlisted men who had proven themselves as noncommissioned officers.  With the sizeable expansion of the Navy after 1900 came the growth of the Marine Corps, as well.  In 1900, the Marine Corps needed 18 Second Lieutenants.  Congress directed that only eight of these entrants could be civilian college graduates — the remaining ten had to come from either the Naval Academy or the enlisted ranks.  Since all of the Naval Academy’s graduates went to service with the Navy in 1900, Colonel Heywood turned to the Marine Corps NCO.[2]

Stepping Up

An insurrection was going on, and the American government needed its Marines to stop it. Sergeant John A. Hughes took his oath of office as a Second Lieutenant 0n 21 December 1901.  During the swearing-in ceremony, Hughes stood next to another former NCO named Earl H. Ellis, whom everyone called “Pete.”  After their training as newly commissioned officers, Hughes and others joined a replacement battalion bound for the Philippine Islands.

Upon arrival in the Philippines, Marine officials posted 2ndLt Hughes to the Marine Regiment under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Mancell C. Goodrell and the battalion under Major Constantine Perkins, a graduate of the Naval Academy.[3]  John Hughes’ impetuousness and unpredictability caused both Goodrell and Perkins some discomfort — much like too much gas after dining for a week on navy beans — because they had little patience for Hughes’ penchant for playing pranks.  Moreover, Lieutenant Hughes drank too much and did not appear to take to heart efforts to reform him in the mold of the Old Corps.[4]  It was then that Hughes’s reputation for “grit” began.  Some Marines began to refer to Hughes as Johnny the Hard; as we’ll see, he was one tough hombre.

According to researcher Colonel Merrill Bartlett, Major Perkins (of whom little is known) rated Hughes as an average officer, observing that Hughes was reckless and careless with a disposition toward boisterousness.  Apparently, Lieutenant Hughes and his running mates liked to sing loudly at 3 a.m., which irritated the senior officers billeted in officer’s quarters.

Despite his somewhat lackluster fitness reports, Hughes passed his examination for promotion, and a promotion board recommended him for advancement to First Lieutenant.  By this time, Hughes had become known, by reputation, as a hard ass.  He preferred to resolve minor disciplinary problems with his men through one-on-one instructional periods, often involving fisticuffs and somewhat harsh language. This type of behavior was the one drawdown among mustang officers: they knew what worked for them as sergeants and took those “successes” with them into the officer ranks — where they were not appreciated. In the modern Marine Corps, Hughes would likely face a court-martial for such conduct. The Marine Corps has every right to expect better of its commissioned officers.

After leaving the Philippines, Hughes reported to the Marine Barracks, Boston, where he served for two years as an assistant quartermaster and commissary officer.  In 1906, the Commandant posted Hughes aboard the U.S.S. Minneapolis and later detached him to constabulary duty with the 1st Provisional Regiment in Cuba.

Despite Hughes’ unwillingness to change his irresponsible behaviors, the Marine Corps promoted him to Captain in 1909 and ordered him to the Marine Barracks in New York City.  A short time later, Marine officials assigned him to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, via the troop ship U.S.S. Hancock.

In Cuba, Hughes and his men transferred to the auxiliary cruiser U.S.S. Buffalo, which transported the leathernecks to Panama in March 1910.  Just thirty days later, while assigned to the Third Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment, Hughes participated in the bombardment and assault of Coyotepe Hill, Nicaragua.

The Marine Corps was a small service in the early 20th century; the officer corps was small enough that nearly every officer knew every other officer — particularly since these were men with whom they competed for promotion and assignment.  In this kind of environment, it wasn’t long before everyone knew about the incident involving Captain Hughes and his commanding officer, Major Smedley D. Butler. 

These two officers, each colorful in their own peculiar way, detested each other.  Butler opined that while Captain Hughes was efficient and knowledgeable, he was excitable and disloyal (to his commanding officer).  In April 1912, Hughes’ superior ordered him confined to quarters because of getting into a fistfight with a brother officer. Fighting among officers was strictly prohibited.

The Commandant is watching

In June, Hughes earned five days’ suspension from duty for “assumption of authority and insubordination.” The nature of Hughes’ alleged offense is lost to history, except as noted on his next fitness report.  But then, less than a month later, the impulsive Leatherneck absented himself from duty without authority and received another suspension from duty due to “unwarranted evasion of orders.”

Besides noting that he had been suspended from duty, Hughes’ reporting senior added that “he knows his profession thoroughly, but he is excitable and not always loyal, in his attention to duty, manner, and bearing, to his commanding officer.” But the incident that raised the hackles of his superiors occurred in April 1912, when Hughes was confined to his quarters as a result of a fistfight with a brother officer.  We believe the identity of this “brother officer” was Smedley D. Butler.

Major Butler cabled the Commandant of the Marine Corps, Colonel William P. Biddle, stating that he considered Hughes a menace to the welfare of his command and requested that the Commandant order his return to Washington under arrest or a transfer out of his command with a preference for sending him as far away from Central America as possible — even to the extent of recommending the Philippines.  But Butler did more than that.  He turned to his father, U.S. Congressman Thomas S. Butler, who served on the House Naval Affairs Committee.

Congressman Butler turned to the Secretary of the Navy for assistance in relieving his son from the challenges caused by the unrepentant Captain Hughes.  Secretary Meyer was in no mood for tattling or seeking special favors.  He denied the congressman’s request and directed the Commandant to inform Butler that he’d have to learn to deal with his challenges without the help of his father.  Secretary Meyer also noted that Major Butler had attempted to embellish the charges against Captain Hughes by adding previous incidents for which he had already been punished.[5]

Nevertheless, at the end of 1912, officials ordered Captain Hughes to Portsmouth, Rhode Island, for service with the Marine Barracks.  Within a year, however, the Commandant ordered all East Coast Barracks to provide the human resources needed to man two regiments of the Advance Base Force (A.B.F.) (forerunner to the Fleet Marine Force).

Captain Hughes reported to the Commanding Officer, 2nd A.B.F., at the Philadelphia Navy Yard, where his commanding officer appointed him to command a rifle company.  The A.B.F. Commander was Lieutenant Colonel John A. Lejeune.

The purpose of these Navy-Marine Corps exercises was to test the concept of the A.B.F.  Still, a secondary objective, owing to declining political conditions, was to serve as a force in readiness for possible operations in Mexico.  With naval maneuvers judged successful, the A.B.F. set sail for New Orleans on 9 February 1914.  On 5 March, the A.B.F. received orders to proceed to Veracruz.

Veracruz, Mexico

In 1914, the Mexican-American War had been over for 66 years.  Still, diplomatic relations between those two countries remained strained — and the truth is that Mexicans, Texicans, and Americans had never gotten along.  Today, it is doubtful that they ever will.  U.S. policy toward Mexico hasn’t made many efforts to improve these relations, but neither has Mexico. 

In 1913, after assuming the office of president, Woodrow Wilson withdrew the United States’ official recognition of the government/presidency of Victoriano Huerta.  Wilson’s reasons for taking this action were that Huerta was using borrowed funds to purchase armaments and munitions for use against the people of Mexico to maintain his power over them.

Conditions deteriorated even more when Wilson imposed an arms embargo on Mexico in August 1913.  The final straw was the Mexican officials arrested nine U.S. sailors in Tampico, Mexico, for entering areas of the city marked as off-limits to foreign military personnel.  When this matter was not resolved to Wilson’s satisfaction, he ordered a naval force to capture Veracruz.

Captain Hughes led his 15th Rifle Company ashore on 21 April as part of the landing force.  For his conduct between 21-24 April, Captain Hughes was cited for conspicuous gallantry and was nominated to receive the Medal of Honor.[6]     

Major Butler was another nominee.  To his credit, Butler pleaded with his superiors to withdraw the medal, insisting he did nothing to deserve such a high-level award.  This issue of awarding the medal of honor to Marine officers had become political, and Butler’s complaints weren’t helping matters. Irritated, Butler’s superiors in the chain of command ordered him to stop moaning and wear the damn thing. Butler’s discomfort increased, however, when he learned that his superiors had also nominated Captain Hughes for the Medal of Honor. Modern historians believe Butler despised no man more than John A. Hughes.

While the Marine brigade was en route back to the north, Captain Hughes received orders that he would proceed to the Marine Barracks, Portsmouth.  In his final fitness report, despite his nomination for the Medal of Honor, Major Randolph C. Berkeley (also a Medal of Honor nominee) rated him poorly in leadership — for treating his men harshly.

In 1916, while serving as the Commanding Officer of the Marine Detachment, U.S.S. Delaware, Hughes landed with his Marines in response to civil unrest and banditry in the Dominican Republic.  President Wilson made a Marine presence in the Dominican Republic permanent after late October that year.

Meanwhile, Captain Hughes became eligible for promotion to major by achieving fifteen years of honorable service.  Amazingly — or possibly not, the Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels denied Hughes’ advancement.  Historians suggest that usually, the Secretary of the Navy would take no hand in the matter of a Marine officer’s promotion, but in this case, it would seem that through his father, Smedley D. Butler was involved in urging Daniels to “do the right thing” for the Corps (and for Butler).

At this time, the Commandant, Major General George Barnett, received a telegram reporting that Captain Hughes had become a combat casualty — wounded by gunshot.  Barnett promptly took the telegram to Secretary Daniels and demanded that he release his hold on Captain Hughes’ promotion.

The Marine Corps promoted Hughes to Major on 16 March 1917.  Accompanying his promotion was a strongly worded memorandum from Secretary Daniels.  Merrill Bartlett tells us that the memo warned Hughes against any future drunkenness or harshness toward his men.

After Hughes recovered from his wound, he served as a staff officer at the headquarters of the A.B.F. in Philadelphia.  When the United States entered World War I, Hughes proceeded to Quantico, Virginia, to prepare for a substantial increase in Marine Corps manpower.

An Interesting Aside

Shortly after the U.S. entered the European war, Brigadier General John A. Lejeune wrote to this friend, Major Smedley D. Butler (then serving as a major general in the Haitian constabulary), informing him that he (Lejeune) expected to command a Marine brigade in the American Expeditionary Force (A.E.F.).  Should that happen, Lejeune wrote, he would offer Butler command of an infantry battalion.

Subsequent planning revealed that the A.E.F. commander, General “Black Jack” Pershing, reduced the Marine Corps’ footprint to a single regiment.[7]  Lejeune was sad to advise Butler that a colonel would command a single regiment and he had no further say in the matter.

Colonel Bartlett assures us that Lejeune’s letter to Butler was somewhat less than honest.  By then, Butler had burdened HQMC with a constant stream of requests for relief from his duty in Haiti and assignment to the A.E.F. in France.  Commandant Barnett was unsympathetic.  He first informed Butler that his position was vital to American interests in Haiti.  Secondly, he reminded Lejeune that Butler had used all of his political leverage to gain the coveted post to command the Gendarmerie d’ Haiti and that he could damn well remain there.

But General Barnett had a problem that needed a resolution.  He required the names of qualified officers for service in the A.E.F.  He needed Lejeune’s advice — and one of the officers suggested by General Lejeune was Major John A. Hughes.

World War

When the United States declared war on Germany in April 1917, the U.S. Marine Corps included 462 commissioned officers, 49 warrant officers, and 13,214 enlisted men.  Of those, 187 officers and 4,546 enlisted men served outside the continental limits of the United States.  Six weeks later, the Marine Corps had organized the 5th Marine Regiment (consisting of around one-sixth of the Corps’ total strength).  When the regiment sailed for France in June 1917, U.S. Marines accounted for one-fifth of the A.E.F.’s expeditionary force.

Closely following the 5th Marines in July and August 1917 was the 6th Marine Regiment and 6th Machine gun Battalion (M.G.B.)  Within one year of America’s entry into the war, the Marine Corps had placed as many enlisted Marines in France as had served on active duty at the outbreak of the war.  President Wilson’s policies in Central America and the Caribbean Sea demanded a massive increase in the number of Marines serving on active duty.  In June 1918, the authorized strength of the Marine Corps was 1,323 officers and 30,000 enlisted men.  The number of Marines serving on that date was 1,424 officers and 57,298 enlisted men.[8]

Colonel Albertus W. Catlin assumed command of the 6th Marine Regiment.[9]  Catlin assigned Major John A. Hughes to command the 1st Battalion, Thomas Holcomb (later, Commandant of the Marine Corps) to command 2/6, and Berton W. Sibley to command 3/6.

Upon arrival in France, Major Hughes settled his battalion at St. Nazaire.  He joined his fellow officers for temporary duty under instruction at the I Corps School of Infantry at Gondrecourt.  Hughes’ performance as a student prompted the Army to extend his temporary assignment through February 1918 so that he could serve as an instructor.  In mid-February, Hughes asked the Army to send him back to his battalion, and they refused — so Major Hughes packed his kit and returned to his battalion without orders.  The Army high command was unhappy with Hughes, but Colonel Catlin sorted it all out.

On 27 May 1918, Imperial Germany launched the third of its spring counteroffensive operations to bring the war to a close before the United States committed the total weight of its Army to the fight.  Within four days, German soldiers reached the Marne River at Château-Thierry.  Until this point, General Pershing had consistently refused to release any American forces to serve under foreign command, but with Imperial German troops sitting a mere 35 miles from Paris, Pershing rushed three American infantry divisions to Château-Thierry to halt the German advance.  One of those divisions was the U.S. Second Infantry with the 4th Marine Brigade.

Catlin’s 6th Marines occupied a position along the Paris-Metz highway, south of a small forest called Bois de Belleau (Belleau Wood), with orders to dig in and hold at all costs.  Having halted the German advance, the Brigade received new orders: expel the Germans from Belleau Wood.  Thus began the Battle of Belleau Wood, one of the Marine Corps’ most contested and bloodiest fights.  Before the end of this battle, the Marine brigade suffered a 50% casualty rate — and it was during this fight that Major John A. Hughes earned both the Navy Cross and Silver Star.  He also suffered the effects of poisoned gas, thereby earning his second Purple Heart medal.

Following the Battle of Belleau Wood, the German high command foolishly decided to cut the highway between Soissons and Château-Thierry.  The Marines deployed south of Soissons on 18 July.  After two days of bitter fighting, the Brigade gave up an additional 2,000 casualties — with most of the dead and wounded from the 6th Marine Regiment.  One of those injured Marines was Major Hughes.

By this time, Johnny the Hard was a physical wreck.  His previous wound had opened up and made walking difficult and painful.  His gas-seared lungs sapped his strength, and he had reached the limit of his endurance.  But despite his pain and discomfort, he did his duty and persevered until his superiors ordered him returned to the United States.

Before that happened, however, again, according to Colonel Bartlett, Major Hughes took a nasty fall as a bunker collapsed.  The major cussed and asked the Marines, “Say, any of you birds got a pair of wire cutters?”  Using those wire cutters, Major Hughes sat down and cut off a shard of bone protruding from his leg.

Grit.

Second Medal of Honor Recommendation

Major Hughes’ promotion to lieutenant colonel, effective 28 August 1918, finally caught up with him — along with another Silver Star medal and two French Croix de Guerre.  But one Marine Corps icon thought that Hughes deserved more.  Colonel Hiram I. Bearss (shown right), believing that Hughes earned the Medal of Honor for his performance at Soissons, put that recommendation in writing and sent it directly to the Commandant of the Marine Corps.[10]

In writing his recommendation, Bearss reported, “During the engagement east of Vierzy, on the 19th of July 1918, Lieut. Col. Hughes (then major) conducted his battalion across open fields swept by violent machine-gun and artillery fire.  His entire commissioned and non-commissioned staff were either killed or wounded. Though suffering the severest pain from an old wound, he led his battalion forward and, by his dauntless courage, [and] bulldog tenacity of purpose, set an example to his command that enabled [it] to hold [its] position against the enemy throughout the day [and] night, though without food or water and with very little ammunition. Major Hughes’ battalion had been reduced to about 200 men, but due to this magnificent example of gallantry and intrepidity, this remnant of a battalion held a front of over 1,200 yards. As a battalion commander, he risked his life beyond the call of duty.”[11]

The Commandant returned Bearss’ recommendation, noting that it should have been submitted through the chain of command to Headquarters, A.E.F., but by then, too much time had elapsed, and Hughes did not receive a second Medal of Honor for his World War I service.[12]

After five months in the Army hospital in France, Colonel Hughes was ordered back to the United States for further treatment at the U.S. Naval Hospital, Philadelphia.  After an additional two months of treatment, Hughes attempted to ask for an assignment to the A.B.F., but to no avail.  Colonel Hughes was no longer medically qualified for Marine Corps service.  The Commandant transferred Hughes to the disability retired list on 3 July 1919.

In retirement, Hughes joined his brothers in the Hughes Trading Company[13] but left two years later to work for Mack Trucking in Cleveland — and later the first director of the Ohio Liquor Control Department.  In 1936, the square-jawed Marine became the Director of Safety at the Great Lakes Exposition.  Ill health relating to his military service forced Hughes to retire again in 1937, and he moved to Florida.  Johnny the Hard passed away on 25 May 1942 while undergoing treatment at the Veterans Hospital.

Meanwhile — back in July 1918 — Smedley Calls His Daddy

At about the time Colonel Hughes had fought his last battle in France, Smedley Butler finally made his way to France — but only after side-stepping the Commandant of the Marine Corps and calling on his father to help him achieve an assignment in the A.E.F.  Congressman Thomas S. Butler spoke with Secretary of the Navy Daniels, who ordered the Commandant to send Butler to France with the next replacement draft.  This interference resulted in Butler’s meteoric rise from major to full colonel and command of the 13th Marine Regiment.

In the summer of 1918, Secretary of War Newton Baker and his senior staff had no interest in another Marine Brigade in France, but on 15 September, within only a few weeks of his father’s interference, Colonel Butler and the 13th Marines embarked for France.

To Butler’s profound disappointment, however, General Pershing decided to break up the 5th Marine Brigade and use the Marines as replacements and for logistical duties behind the lines.  When Brigadier General Smedley Darlington Butler arrived in France, General Pershing placed him in charge of a supply depot.  Within only a few months, Butler was awarded the Army Distinguished Service Medal, the Navy Distinguished Service Medal, and the French Order of the Black Star — no doubt arranged for by his daddy in recognition of his non-combat service.  General Butler continued to cry on his father’s shoulder for the balance of his career.

No pluck, no sand, and no grit.

Sources:

  1. Bartlett, M. L.  The Spirited Saga of Johnny the Hard.  Naval History, U.S. Naval Institute, 2007
  2. Catlin, A.  With the Help of God and a Few Marines: The battles of Chateau Thierry and Belleau Wood.  Blue House Books, 2016.
  3. Sweetman, J.  The Landing at Veracruz, 1914.  U.S. Naval Institute Press, 1968.
  4. “A Brief History of the Medal of Honor, U.S. Army Center of Military History, online.

Endnotes:

[1] During World War I, Marines served with the American Expeditionary Force (A.E.F.), which placed these men under the operational authority of the Department of War, even though at the time, they were regularly assigned to the Department of the Navy.  It was a bit confusing back then, so it was possible for a Marine to receive a medal of honor from both the Army and the Navy.  After the war, service regulations changed to reflect that a medal of honor can only be awarded once for a single action.  It is still possible to receive two such medals, but only for separate actions. 

[2] The process of commissioning enlisted men to serve as officers resulted in the term “mustang,” denoting an individual who “came up through the ranks” rather than someone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth.  A mustang was a feral animal, not a “thoroughbred.”  Over many years, the Armed Forces found that in terms of leadership, raw determination, and professional knowledge, former enlisted men made better officers.  A few former enlisted men found their way to general officer status, but for the most part, accession to flag rank was reserved for graduates of the service academies.

[3] My primary source for this information is retired Lieutenant Colonel Merrill L. Bartlett.  Were it not for his fine writing at Naval History Magazine, I would never have heard of Colonel Goodrell or Major Perkins.

[4] Certain individual Marines had severe drinking problems at the turn of the century; more than one officer succumbed to the effects of alcoholism, including Pete Ellis — which remarkably all seemed to originate in the Philippines. 

[5] The incident suggests that despite his demonstrated courage in combat, Smedley Darlington Butler would have made a perfect centerpiece for a bouquet of assholes. 

[6] The Medal of Honor is awarded by the President of the United States in the name of the Congress of the United States — hence, the medal is often termed the “Congressional Medal of Honor.”  After the incursion into Mexico, Congress amended its legislation for the Medal of Honor to include naval officers.  Within the Department of the Navy, the conflict provided an opportunity to shower the Medal of Honor on selected participants at Veracruz.  Of the Navy contingent deployed to Veracruz, 28 officers and 18 enlisted men earned the award — and nine Marine Corps officers.    

[7] History tells us that ultimately the Marines did provide an infantry brigade to the A.E.F, but in the planning stages, Pershing did all that he could to avoid having Marines in his command.

[8] The two regiments and separate battalion formed the 4th Marine Brigade, with an authorized strength of 258 officers and 8,211 enlisted men.  The brigade fought in eight major engagements and suffered 12,000 casualties.  At the same time, the Corps maintained the 5th Marine Brigade in the A.E.F. reserve, provided the U.S. 2nd Infantry Division with staff officers and enlisted men, and provided officers to command U.S. Army infantry and aviation units.

[9] See also: With the Help of God and a Few Marines by Colonel Albertus W. Catlin, USMC (deceased). 

[10] Bearss, himself a holder of the Medal of Honor, commanded an Army infantry regiment and the U.S. 51st Infantry Brigade in France.  His moniker in the Marine Corps was “Hiking Hiram,” famous for his trek across the Island of Samar in the Philippines in 1901.

[11] Source, LtCol Merrill L. Bartlett, USMC (Retired) Naval History Magazine, 2007.

[12] General Barnett was right, of course.  The recommendation should have been submitted through the chain of command.  It is also possible that Barnett knew that Secretary Daniels would never allow the approval of the Medal of Honor for Hughes.

[13] In retirement, Colonel John A. Hughes provided a falsified dossier for “Pete” Ellis’ ill-fated spy mission to the Central Pacific in 1923. (Ellis assumed the identity of a salesman for the Hughes Trading Company as a cover for his undercover and somewhat bizarre escapade).

Louis Cukela, U.S.M.C.

“Ven I vaunt to send a damned fool, I send myself.”

One of the Marine Corps’ “colorful” characters of the past was Major Louis Cukela.  Cukela was born in the kingdom of Dalmatia on 1 May 1888 (modern-day Croatia).  A “mustang,” Cukela rose in ranks from Private to Major over a career spanning 29 years.  Three things made this officer a colorful character: his broken accent, short temper, and unquestioned courage and valor in combat.   

Louis Cukela received his primary education in Dalmatia with further schooling at the Merchant Academy and Royal Gymnasium.  In 1913, he migrated to the United States with his brother, both young men deciding to settle in Minneapolis, Minnesota.  There may not have been many job opportunities in Minneapolis in the early part of the 20th century, which could explain why Cukela decided to join the U.S. Army in 1914.  Corporal Cukela accepted his discharge from the army in 1916.

Seven months later, before the United States officially entered Europe’s Great War, Louis Cukela enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps.  Officially, the United States entered the war on 6 April 1917.  In late May, President Wilson directed the Secretary of the Navy to issue orders detaching a Marine regiment for service with the U.S. Army in France.  The regiment would be known as the 5th Regiment of U.S. Marines.  And, as a demonstration of the combat readiness of these Marines, the regiment sailed for France sixteen days later.[1]

Cukela served in the 66th rifle company in the Norfolk, Virginia area.  As the Marines reformed for service with the American Expeditionary Force (A.E.F.), Marine rifle companies formed as part of infantry battalions within regiments.  The 15th rifle company (Pensacola) joined the 49th, 66th, and 67th companies to create the 1st Battalion, 5th Marines.  The 1stBn embarked aboard the U.S.S. DeKalb, arriving at St. Nazaire on 26 June.

Initially, the Army assigned these Marines to the U.S. First Infantry Division.  Many of these Marines had combat experience, but not as part of a land army.  This necessitated that the marines undergo training to familiarize them with land operations. This training involved instruction by French infantry officers and N.C.O.s in offensive and defensive operations, trench warfare, grenade throwing, bayonet fighting, and infantry-artillery coordination. Until this training could be accomplished, the Marines performed communications duties (as messengers) and certain other logistical duties.

In September 1917, the 5th Marines was assigned to serve under the U.S. Second Infantry Division.  In October, the regiment became part of the 4th Brigade of Marines (one of two infantry brigades in the 2nd Division).  Despite the regiment’s pre-combat training, General Pershing had no confidence that the 5th Marines were ready for service in the line.  In March 1918, the Marine Brigade relocated to the relatively quiet area of Toulon.  To acquaint Marines with combat service opposing German troops, the regiments rotated battalions into the trenches for a set period of time.  When the Marines were not standing watch, they were kept busy improving or repairing their trenches.

On 19 – 20 March, during a battalion relief operation, the enemy launched a raid in force.  The extraordinary effort of the 49th Company, 3rd Battalion, sent the enemy reeling back to their own trenches.  At this time, the German high command began paying closer attention to those American Marines.  On 30 May, the A.E.F. assigned the U.S. 2nd Infantry Division to the French Sixth Army, after which the Marine Brigade received the mission of stemming a German thrust toward Paris.  Retreating units and civilian refugees clogged up the lines of communication, requiring the Marines to disembark from their motorized vehicles and proceed toward  Meaux.[2]

Gunnery Sergeant (later Second Lieutenant) Cukela fought in every engagement in which his regiment participated. That’s what Marines do — but it was just as well they were focusing their attention on the Germans because, according to Major General James G. Harbord, commanding the U.S. Second Infantry Division, the French high command was a disaster.  No one knew anything — and didn’t seem to care.

On 2 June, the battalions of the 5th Marines occupied reserve and line duty north of the Marne River and west of Chateau-Thierry.  Harbord struggled to organize the lines of the French XXI Corps and cover the withdrawal of French infantry/artillery units.  Harbord finally accomplished this by mid-day on 4 June 1918.  That afternoon, 2/5 repulsed two German assaults against the withdrawing French and convinced the Germans to withdraw into defensive positions.

The French Sixth Army ordered the XXI Corps to straighten its lines; XXI Corps assigned the mission to the 2nd Infantry Division, and Harbord handed it off to the Marine Brigade.  Second Battalion, 5th Marines successfully mounted the first attack and straightened out the allied lines.  For the second attack, General Harbord sent the Marines into Bois de Belleau (Belleau Wood).  The fight set a single American infantry division against five German divisions.  By the end of the battle on 23 June 1918, the 5th Marines had suffered 2,000 killed and wounded — but the struggle also set into motion a massive German withdrawal that continued until the Armistice.

Tiffany Cross
Medal of Honor

On 18 July 1918 at Soissons, the 66th Company operated in the Forêt de Retz some 50 miles northeast of Paris, near Villiers-Cotterets, when a German strong point held up the company’s advance.  Alone, of his own volition, Cukela crawled beyond the company’s lines toward the German defenses.  Despite the enemy’s bullets zipping just above his head, he captured an enemy machine gun by bayoneting its three-man crew.  Then, using German grenades, Cukela demolished the remaining part of the enemy’s strong point.  He silenced the Germans, captured four prisoners, and captured two undamaged machine guns.  For this action, the United States awarded Gunnery Sergeant Cukela two medals of honor — one from the U.S. Army and another from the U.S. Navy. [3]

In addition to his two medals of honor, Cukela also received three Silver Star medals and several French National/Military awards: Legion of Honor (Chevalier), Military Medal, and three Croix de Guerre.

Cukela may have been entitled to two purple heart medals, as well, for wounds received while engaged with the enemy.  He did not receive these awards because, believing his wounds minor, he never reported to sick bay for treatment.

On 1 November 1919, First Lieutenant Cukela joined the 1st Marine Brigade in Haiti.  Soon after arriving and being made aware of the mission of garrisoning Marines in Haitian towns, Cukela took aside one promising young second lieutenant and observed it was a waste of time.  Instead, the Marines should pursue the Cacos into the mountains and be done with them.  It was a logical proposal, and the young lieutenant — Lewis B. Puller — never forgot Cukela’s advice.

While serving in the Caribbean, Cukela’s brigade commander charged him with executing three Haitian detainees.  A medical officer examined Cukela and reported him as highly agitated and smelling of alcohol.  Reputation-wise, Cukela was thought to have a propensity for executing Cacos.  Cukela was cleared of any wrongdoing, but the “word,” having gotten out, prompted the Commandant to reassign him to the Dominican Republic.

His battlefield appointment to Second Lieutenant took place on 26 September 1918, and a regular commission was conferred on 31 March 1919.  He advanced to First Lieutenant on 17 July 1919 and Captain on 15 September 1921. 

In 1955, Warner Brothers cartoonist and story writer Warren Foster (1904 – 1971) developed a tale he titled Sahara Hare.  It was a continuation of the epic contest between Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam (who appears in the tale as Riff Raff Sam).  Bugs pops up in the desert, thinking he’s arrived at Miami Beach.  Meanwhile, while riding on a camel, Sam suddenly comes upon Bugs’ tracks and exclaims, “Great horney toads!  A trespasser is getting footy prints all over my desert.”  Sam orders the camel to slow down and loudly says, “Whoa camel, whoa!  Whoa!”  Ignored by the camel, Sam whacks him on the head and tells the half conscience camel, “When I say Whoa, I means WHOA!”

Funny stuff, if you enjoy Warner Brothers Cartoons — but it makes you wonder if Warren Foster ever served in the Marines and knew or ran across one of the great Cukela stories. Captain Cukela was no Cossack; he had little interest in equestrian pursuits and rode like a sack of rice. Assigned to attend the Army Infantry Officers School at Fort Benning, Georgia, the Army emphasized infantry tactics but also demanded that its officer students demonstrate mastery of the horse. One day, his mount took off at a gallop toward Alabama, and nothing Captain Cukela did could persuade the horse from the gallop.  He ordered “Stop Horse” on several occasions — to no avail.  Finally, Captain Cukela balled up his fist and whacked the horse as hard as he could on its forehead, and the animal sank to its knees.  Dismounting, Captain Cukela admonished the horse, “I am Cukela — you are the horse.  I tell you, stop — you stop.  You not stop, damn you, I break your head.”    

On 30 June 1940, the date of his retirement, Cukela was promoted to Major — but he was recalled to active duty a month later in anticipation of war with Japan. 

During World War II, Major Cukela served as a supply officer at Norfolk, Virginia, and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  He was returned to the retired list on 17 May 1946 — achieving 32 years of active military service.

After Major Cukela suffered a stroke in 1955, he lay dying at the U.S. Naval Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland.  One afternoon, a prominent Lieutenant General visited his bedside.  Cukela, even in his weakened state, had no trouble recognizing Chesty Puller — but kept referring to him as “Lieutenant.” Cukela observed to Puller that he was dying.  General Puller answer, “That’s all right, old man.  You’re going to Valhalla — where all Marines go. 

Louis Cukela, aged 67 years, passed away on 19 March 1956.

Cukela made the famous quote, shown at the beginning of this post, after receiving a garbled and incomprehensible field message.  According to author and biographer Colonel Merrill Bartlett, USMC (Retired) Cukela’s strange comments caught on quickly in the A.E.F. — even to General Pershing, himself. 

Sources:

  1. Who’s Who in Marine Corps History.  History Division, HQMC
  2. Yingling, J. M.  A Brief History of the 5th Marines.  Washington, D.C., 1963, 1968.

Endnotes:

[1] The rapid organization, equipping, and embarkation of the regiment was the product of considerable forethought by senior Marine Corps planners. 

[2] The weather was hot, the roads dusty, and the Marines were over-burdened by carrying their supplies and equipment on their backs.  Morale was not improved with the dejected and terrorized looks appearing on the faces of French soldiers moving away from the battle site.  It was at this time when Captain Lloyd W. Williams of the 2nd Battalion told a French colonel that the Marines would not retreat — “We just got here.”

[3] Following World War I, the U.S. Navy decided to recognize two kinds of heroism.  One involving extraordinary courage in the face of the enemy, and the other recognition for non-combat service.  The ribbon pattern on the medal awarded for non-combat reflected an up-side-down star.  The new pattern medal was designed by the Tiffany Company (1919), reflecting actual combat.  It was known as the Tiffany Cross Medal of Honor but due to its similarity with the German Cross, the medal was unpopular, and several awardees requested a newer design once issued in 1942. 

Gurkha

Introduction

The Gurkha (also Gorkhas) are soldiers native to the Indian sub-continent residing in Nepal and some areas of Northeast India.  As a combatant, they are a tremendous force.  They are small in stature, but the reader will not discover a body of men possessing more tenacity and esprit de corps or less regard for their safety.  It is such that these small men appear as giants on the battlefield — or, if not that, their ferocity is enough to cause the blood of their enemies to run cold, drop their weapons, and run like hell.  The Gurkha signal to attack has caused heart attacks in twenty-year-old men.

Most military historians rate Gurkhas among the finest combat soldiers in the world.  They believe that the only way to defeat a Gurkha combat is by killing every man in his unit and then shooting them again just to make sure.

Some Background

John Watts and George White were two very enterprising Englishmen who, sometime between 1598-1600, came up with the idea of forming a joint-stock company that would focus on trade with India.  The company came into being on 31st December 1600 as the East India Company (EIC) — but over many years had several names.  Eventually, people began calling it the John Company.  In 1712, Dr. John Arbuthnot created a satirical character named John Bull, which became a national personification of the United Kingdom, generally, and England in particular.

But in 1600, no one imagined that EIC would acquire vast tracts of the Indian subcontinent.  By 1740, the English competed with the French and Spanish for supremacy inside the Indian Ocean area.  The competition was keen — there was no prize for second place.  To gain (and retain) trade advantages, EIC relied heavily on the British Army to pacify the Indian population and the Royal Navy to protect trade routes and valuable cargoes.

Since it was economically impractical to permanently assign English regiments to India, EIC created its own army — one composed of native riflemen led by British officers and NCOs. EIC used this army to subdue uncooperative Indian states and principalities and to protect its economic interests. By 1800, the East India Company employed over 200,000 native soldiers, making it twice as large as the British Army.

In the early years, company management was both efficient and economical — but over time, incompetence, mismanagement, and other circumstances far beyond the company’s control (such as widespread famine in India) led the nearly bankrupt company to request financial aid from the British Parliament.  After much debate, the government reasoned that such a commitment would benefit the nation’s long-term interests and approved EIC’s request — but not without having something to say about the company’s management.  Parliamentary regulation and oversight of EIC began in 1773.  In 1784, Parliament seized control of all Indian political policies through The India Act.

The John Company ceased to exist in 1858 when the Parliament forced it to cede all of its territories and holdings in India to the British Crown, which included massive parts of the Indian subcontinent, Southeast Asia, and mid-Eastern Gulf colonies.  Before incorporation, however, the EIC managed to recruit Nepalese to serve the company as part of its private army.  They became known as Gurkhas.  It was a relationship that began after the Anglo-Nepalese War (1814-1816).

The Gurkha War

The Malla Dynasty was the ruling dynasty of the Kathmandu Valley (1201 – 1779) and one of the most sophisticated urban civilizations in the Himalayan foothills and a key destination in the India-Tibet trade route. 

In 1766, when the Gurkha King invaded Kathmandu (which at the time belonged to the Malla Confederacy), the Malla appealed to the EIC for help and armaments.  The company responded by sending an ill-equipped, poorly trained force of 2,500 men under a very young Captain, George Kinloch.  By any measure, the expedition was an unmitigated disaster.  Out of his depth as a military commander, Captain Kinloch had the additional misfortune of a malaria pandemic in the ranks.  The Gurkhas quickly overpowered Kinloch’s demoralized troops, and since dead men did not need British-manufactured firearms, the Gurkhas collected the weapons and put them to good use against their other enemies.

Gurkha aggression toward Tibet over long-standing trade eventually involved Imperial Chinese troops between 1789-1792.  It was then that the Gurkha (by then calling themselves Nepalese), in recognizing a common interest in territorial expansion, appealed to the British Governor-General for his assistance against the Chinese.  Governor-General Lord Warren Hastings had no desire to engage Imperial China, but he was never averse to exploiting regional commercial opportunities.[1]  Moreover, the company was at the center of a cash-flow problem — an issue that Hastings could resolve by selling rare wools to English markets.  Tibet was the only place on earth where Kashmir existed, and the only way to obtain it was through the mountain passes in Nepal — and this was only possible through the strategy of “political safety,” or territorial control and military pacification.

The Anglo-Gurkha War (1812-1816) involved two separate British military campaigns with seven major engagements and an extraordinary expenditure of money.  Despite Nepal’s initial interest in involving the British in their dispute with China, which was not forthcoming, certain elements of the Gurkha hierarchy distrusted the British (with good reason), particularly after the British gained control of a neighboring principality.  This event prompted the Nepalese to annex buffer territories of their own, which they were fully prepared to defend.  In preparing for war with the British, the Nepalese suffered no illusions about the stakes of such a confrontation.  One tribal chieftain advised his Nepalese lord, “They will not rest without establishing their own power and will unite with the hill rajas, whom we have dispossessed.  We have hitherto hunted deer; if we engage in this war, we must prepare to fight tigers.”

The Anglo-Gurkha war ended with the Treaty of Sugauli in 1816.  It required Nepal to relinquish all buffer territories west and east of its formal border and accept a permanent British representative in Kathmandu.  Initially, the Nepalese objected to the treaty until General David Ochterlony offered the Nepalese a deal they could not refuse, which was that they could either agree to the treaty or Ochterlony would destroy them.[2]  It was thus that Nepal became a British-protected state.

Incorporating the Gurkhas

General Ochterlony and political agent William Fraser (1784-1835) were the first to recognize the potential of Gurkha soldiers in British service.  During the war, Ochterlony employed Gurkha defectors as irregular forces.  He and Fraser were impressed with these fighters and had no qualms about their devotion to the British cause.  Fraser proposed that Ochterlony form the Gurkhas into a battalion under a British officer and key noncommissioned officers.  This battalion later became the 1st King George’s Own Gurkha Rifles.  About 5,000 Nepalese men entered British service after 1815, most of whom were Himalayans from three ethnic groups: Kumaonis, Garhwalis, and Gorkhalis — all of which quickly assimilated into a unique Gurkha identity.

Over time, the Gurkhas became the backbone of the British Army, forming ten regiments of two battalions each.  The British called them the Brigade of Gurkhas or, more simply, The Gurkha Rifles.  Between 1857-1918, the British employed Gurkha units to address conflicts in Burma, Afghanistan, the Indian frontiers, Malta, Cyprus, Malaya, China, and Tibet — with the Gurkhas serving with great distinction in each of them.

Eventually, the British raised twenty Gurkha battalions and formed them into ten regiments.  During the First World War, the number of Gurkha battalions increased to 33, totaling approximately 100,000 men.  Of these, 20,000 were either killed or wounded.  More than 2,000 Gurkhas received combat decorations for their exceptional courage and gallantry.[3]  So steady were these men that they were among the first to arrive during the disastrous Gallipoli campaign — and they were the last to withdraw.

The Gurkha fought in the Third Afghan War (1919) and numerous campaigns in the Northwest regions, notably in Waziristan. At the end of the world war, the British returned its Gurkha regiments to India, keeping them away from the internal strife of urban areas and placing them instead on the Indian frontier, where fiercely independent tribesmen were a constant source of unrest. The mission of the Gurkha along the frontier was more on the order of a constabulary: keeping the peace by confronting lawlessness among the Pathan tribes.

In 1939, there were ten Gurkha regiments (twenty pre-war battalions).  After the evacuation of Dunkirk in 1940, the Nepalese government offered to increase the number of Gurkha battalions to 35.  Eventually, that number rose to 43 battalions, adding two battalions to each regiment and a fifth battalion to the 1st, 2nd, and 9th Gurkha Rifles (also, 1 GR, 2 GR, and 9 GR).  To accomplish this expansion, Gurkha training battalions increased to five.  The Nepalese raised two additional battalions for peace-keeping duty in India.  In total, a quarter-million Nepalese men served in 40 Gurkha battalions, 8 Nepalese Army battalions, as well as in parachute, training, garrison, and logistical units against German/Italian forces in Syria, North Africa, Italy, and Greece, and Japanese forces in Burma, northeast India, and Singapore.  Of all Imperial combat forces, Gurkhas earned 2,734 medals for bravery at the cost of 32,000 casualties in all theaters.

The pattern of Gurkha military ranks followed those of the Indian Army.  Three levels included privates, noncommissioned officers, and commissioned officers.  Commissioned officers within the Gurkha regiments held Viceroy’s commissions (while British officers held King’s or Queen’s commissions).  Thus, any Gurkha holding a Viceroy’s commission (VCO) was subordinate to any British officer, regardless of rank.[4]  After Indian Independence in 1947, Gurkha officers reassigned to the British Army received King’s or Queen’s Gurkha Commissions (also known as KGO or QGO).  The Crown abolished KGO/QGO in 2007.  One notable difference between Gurkha officers and British officers is that no Gurkha can achieve a direct commission; Gurkha officers may only receive commissions through the enlisted ranks — they are all “mustangs.”

Today, Gurkhas serve in two separate armies: British and Indian.  There is one Gurkha Regiment in the British Army and 12 battalions (6 regiments) in the Indian Army.

Ferocity in Combat

The Indian Rebellion of 1857

The problem of rebellion began as early as 1772 when Lord Hastings started to recruit for the British East India Company.[5]  Because many Bengalis opposed the BEIC in combat, Hastings avoided them during his recruitment efforts.  He instead recruited higher castes, such as the Rajput and Bhumihar, from outlying regions.[6]  Ostensibly, the Madras and Bombay armies’ recruits were caste-neutral, but high-cast men were avoided below the surface. These caste-centered recruiting limitations continued through 1855.

The domination of higher castes in the Bengal army was one of the problems that led to the rebellion.  For example, to avoid being polluted by the unclean lower caste, high-caste soldiers in the Bengal army dined separately — a situation that works against the concept of military teamwork.  Hindu culture consumed the Bengal army, and higher-caste men were accorded privileges not extended to those of the lower-caste Bengali or the other company armies.  For example, the company exempted Bengal soldiers from any service that took them beyond marching distance from their homes.  The exemption excused Bengali soldiers from overseas service.

The final spark of discontent within the armies involved the ammunition used in the Enfield 1853 rifle/musket.  The weapons fired mini-balls, and because the bore was smaller in diameter (tighter) than earlier muskets, pre-greased paper cartridges were needed to facilitate ramming the ball down the bore.  In loading the weapon, sepoys (Indian soldiers serving in the British Army) had to bite the cartridge open to release the powder.  Rumors began circulating that the grease on these cartridges came from beef.  Biting into beef grease would be offensive to devout Hindus, and if the lubricant came from pork lard, another rumor, biting into the cartridge would offend Muslims.[7]  Added to these rumors was the claim that British/Company officers intended to convert Hindus and Muslims to Christianity.  To quell the first rumor, Colonel Richard Birch ordered the manufacture of greaseless cartridges; the sepoys could grease the cartridges themselves using whatever substance they preferred.  Colonel Birch’s common sense solution only caused many simple-minded soldiers to conclude that the rumors were true.

Unhappiness among civilians was more complicated.  Three groups of rebels were feudal nobility, rural landlords, and peasants.  The nobility was unhappy because they had lost titles and domains under company regulations that denied adopted children as legal heirs.  Landlords had lost their lands to peasant farmers due to company land reforms.  At the outset of the rebellion, landlords quickly re-occupied lost lands — without much complaint from the peasants, who oddly enough also joined the rebellion.  There was also the issue of forced indebtedness.  When peasant landowners could not pay their taxes, they borrowed money from loan sharks at high-interest rates.  Peasants lost their land to these money lenders when they could not repay borrowed money.

In the spring and summer of 1857, Indian soldiers refused to obey the orders of company officers, and native officers declined to arrest or discipline them.  Initially, it was more a matter of silent contempt than open mutiny.  However, when all but five 3rd Bengal Light Cavalry soldiers refused to accept cartridges, their British commander, Lieutenant Colonel George Carmichael-Smyth, ordered courts-martial.  Most of these men received sentences of ten years imprisonment with hard labor.  Before marching the convicted men to jail, Smythe ordered them publicly stripped of their uniforms and shackled.

The opening of the rebellion occurred the next morning when rebels attacked and ransacked officers’ quarters.  Several British officers were killed, along with four civilian men, eight women, and eight children.  Crowds in the bazaar rebelled by attacking off-duty soldiers, beating to death fifty Indian civilians who served British officers, and attacked the post-jail, releasing the recently court-martialed soldiers.  News of this uprising fostered other rebellions across India at Delhi, Agra, Kanpur, and Lucknow.

Not everyone opposed the British East India Company, and neither were the Gurkhas alone in suppressing the mutiny.  Sikh princes supported the British, along with the princes of Hyderabad, Mysore, Travancore, Kashmir, and Rajputana.[8]  But the mutiny was unexpected and spread rapidly.  When the British began to deploy Gurkha forces, rebels panicked — as well as they should have.

The Gurkhas could not understand such disloyalty, and it angered them.  The last thing any reasonable person wants is an angry Gurkha standing before him.  The Gurkhas were unrelentingly ruthless toward the rebellious.  In one instance, a single Gurkha soldier chased down a dozen or more Wahhabi extremists; when the Gurkha was done with them, the Muslims lay dismantled in the gutter.

But the Gurkhas did not escape the 18-month-long insurrection unscathed.  They suffered terrible casualties.  The difference was, and what set them apart, is that no Gurkha, no matter how badly wounded, would leave his post.  Not even when offered safe conduct for medical attention would they leave the side of their battling comrades.  All other “loyal” units paled in comparison to the Gurkhas.  No one had the “jolly recklessness” of the Gurkha private.

The rebels of Lucknow paled when they learned that the Gurkhas would oppose them.  The fighting lasted for several months, but even from the first day, the rebels knew they were dead men walking.  Again — as always — the Gurkha was both relentless and unmerciful.

The Malayan Emergency

Gurkha battalions operated continuously throughout the Malayan Emergency (1948-1960).  During this time, the Gurkha soldier proved again, as he had done in Burma, that the Gurkhas are superb jungle fighters.  The Gurkhas were among 40,000 regular British Commonwealth troops participating in the Malayan Emergency.  250,000 Malayan Home Guard troops augmented these men.

The Malayan Emergency was part of the post-World War II nationalist movements.  These were conflicts initiated by communist insurgents against pre-war colonial powers.  The initiating event in June 1948 was the murder of three Europeans during a communist assault on rubber plantations and the colonial government’s subsequent declaration of an emergency.

As in French Indochina, many of Malaya’s fighters were previously engaged as anti-Japanese nationalists, men trained and supplied by the British government during World War II.  Most communist rebels were ethnic Malayan or Chinese poorly treated by British colonial administrators over several decades.  The insurgents, when organized, began a series of assaults against British colonial police, military installations, tin mines, rubber plantations, and terrorist acts upon small, isolated villages.  At such time as the British had had enough of the murder and mayhem created by communist rebels, they sent in commonwealth forces, including the Gurkhas, to end it.

Organized as the 48th Gurkha Brigade (later, the 17th Gurkha Division), the British sent fighters from all four (then) existing Gurkha regiments (2nd, 6th, 7th, and 10th) and expanded (modernized) Gurkha fighting units by creating such combat support forces as engineers, signals, and transportation regiments. 

The Gurkha’s arrival in Malaya was a seminal event because it marked the beginning of the end of the communist insurgency there.  Unlike the US military in their later engagement in Vietnam, Gurkhas did not waste valuable time or effort trying to win the hearts and minds of the Malayan people.  They weren’t there for that … they were there to locate communists and kill them.  It was a mission-centered enterprise.  If there were going to be a contest for the hearts and minds of civilians, it would have to be won by the government’s civil administration.  Throughout their involvement in Malaya, the Gurkhas had few interactions with the civilian population.  At no time were Gurkhas deployed to protect villages.  They were after the “killer gangs” who behaved less as nationalist patriots than the armed thugs of jungle warlords.[9]

For the Gurkhas, jungle time was slow time.  Long-range patrols typically lasted two or three weeks (a few exceeded 100 days).  Soldiers carried a pack weighing around 90 pounds; it was all he needed for the duration of the patrol.  The Gurkhas dumped these heavy packs in a cache, mounting patrols in light order to sneak and peek.  The basic patrol unit often consisted of three men but sometimes involved as many as twelve.  The largest reconnaissance in force involved company-sized teams.

There was never any micro-management from a higher authority.  Unit commanders simply told their patrol leaders to “get on with it,” which gave these seasoned fighters maximum leeway in deciding how to proceed.  One of the favored Gurkha tactics was the ambuscade; some of these lasted from ten days to two weeks.  Such operations demand an unparalleled degree of self-discipline because an ambush is only successful when there are no unnecessary movements to reveal the ambusher’s position.  In truth, most ambushes yielded nothing at all.  Gurkhas killed most insurgents through chance encounters while patrolling.

Gurkhas relentlessly pursued their enemy for as long as it took until they rounded up or killed the communists.  Psychologically, such tenacity and commitment destroyed the communist’s self-confidence.  He could run, but he could not hide from the Gurkha combat patrol.  This was part of the strategy adopted by the British forces … keep the communists on the run.  Some of these forays lasted for twenty or more days, the limiting factor being the amount of ammunition carried by each soldier (sixty rounds).

What the Gurkhas accomplished in twelve years was extraordinary within the context of the overall strategy.  There was only limited use of artillery, and although the British employed light observation aircraft to support ground movements, there were no overwhelming air bombardment campaigns.  What fighting the Gurkha did, they did with their standard issue firearm, kukri knives, and their fighting spirit.  At the end of the day, Gurkha units didn’t need B-52s, artillery, or tanks.  They were in Malaya for one essential purpose: locate the enemy and kill him — and the way to do that most effectively was to terrorize the terrorists.  This is how the Gurkha won the Malayan Emergency.

Conclusion

Presently, the Gurkha contingent of the British Army includes the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd battalions of the Royal Gurkha Rifles, the King’s Gurkha Signals (five squadrons), King’s Gurkha Engineers (two squadrons), the 10th King’s Own Gurkha Logistics Regiment, the Band of the Brigade of Gurkhas, the Gurkha Company, Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst, a company at the Infantry Battle School, and one company at the Land Warfare Center.

In 1945, Rifleman Lachhiman Gurung was stationed in a trench with only two other men when over 200 Japanese soldiers opened fire. Gurung’s comrades were severely wounded in the opening fusillade.  As hand grenades fell on the Gurkhas, Gurung tried to throw each one back one after another.  He was successful with the first two, but the third exploded in his right hand. His fingers were blown off, and his face, body, and right arm and leg were severely wounded.  As the Japanese stormed the trench, Gurung used his left hand to wield his rifle, defeating 31 enemies and preventing the Japanese from advancing. Gurung survived his wounds and was awarded the Victoria Cross.

In 1949, the British selected former Gurkha soldiers for service in the Gurkha Contingent of the Singapore Police Force, which replaced the Sikh unit that existed before Japan’s occupation of Singapore.  These police are well-trained and highly disciplined.  They mainly perform as riot police and as an emergency reaction force.  In Brunei, a Gurkha Reserve Unit serves as a special guard and elite shock force of around 500 men.

In 2008, Taliban insurgents ambushed a squad of Gurkhas, hitting Private Yubraj Rai.  Captain Gajendera Angdembe and Riflemen Dhan Gurung and Manju Gurung carried Rai across 325 yards of open ground under heavy fire.  The Gurkha leave no soldier behind – ever.  In 2010, Acting Sergeant Dipprasad Pun single-handedly fought off thirty Taliban soldiers.  It took him an hour, but all the enemy lay dead in the end.  Pun received the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross.

The highest and most prestigious decoration in the British honors system is the Victoria Cross.  The qualification for this decoration is exceptionally valorous conduct “in the presence of the enemy,” with posthumous awards authorized when appropriate.  At one time, all member states of the British Empire participated in the British honors system, but since the beginning of the British Commonwealth of Nations, many such countries have devised their own honors system.  The Australians, for example, created The Victoria Cross for Australia —which looks similar to the British Victoria Cross.

So far, British authorities have awarded 1,358 Victoria Crosses to 1,355 men.  The greatest number of Victoria Crosses awarded for valorous conduct on a single day was 24 for individual actions on 16 November 1857 at Lucknow and Narnoul.  The most medals awarded in a single conflict was 658 during World War I.  There are five living holders of the VC: one RAF (World War II), three British Army (Indonesia-Malaysia Confrontation, Iraq War, and Afghanistan War), and one Australian Army (Vietnam War).  Of the total awarded, 26 went to men serving with Gurkha regiments, 13 of whom were native Nepalese enlisted men.  Britain’s second highest award “for acts of the greatest heroism or the most conspicuous courage in circumstances of extreme danger, not in the presence of the enemy” is the George Cross.  Gurkha enlisted men have earned two such medals.

Sources:

  1. Barber, N.  War of the Running Dogs.  London: Collins Press, 1971.
  2. Barthorp, M.  Afghan Wars, and the North-West Frontier, 1839-1947.  Cassell Publishing, 2002.
  3. Chauhan, S. V.  The Way of Sacrifice: The Rajput.  University of Toronto, 1996.
  4. Cross, J. P. and Buddhiman Gurung.  Gurkhas at War: Eyewitness Accounts from World War II to Iraq.  Greenhill Books, 2002.
  5. Masters, J.  Bugles and a Tiger: Autobiography of the life and times of a British officer serving with the Gurkha Regiment in India in the run-up to World War II.  Handley, 1956.
  6. Parker, J.  The Gurkhas: The Inside Story of the World’s Most Feared Soldiers.  Headline Books, 2005.
  7. Thompson, R.  Defeating Communist Insurgency: The Lessons of Malaya and Vietnam.  London, Praeger Publishing, 1966.

Endnotes:

[1] Warren Hastings (1732-1818) served as governor of Bengal, head of the Supreme Council of Bengal, and along with Robert Clive, was responsible for the foundation of the British Empire in India.  Hastings achieved this by siding with one ethnic group against another and then conquering both — which eventually expanded British influence over the entire subcontinent.

[2] Major General Sir David Ochterlony (1758-1825) was a Massachusetts-born EIC officer who eventually served as Ambassador in Residence in Delhi, India.

[3] The number of combat decorations issued to Gurkhas is significant because traditionally, the British military is niggardly in awarding them. 

[4] A VCO lieutenant colonel was subordinate to a KCO second lieutenant. 

[5] The company recruited on behalf of three separate “presidential armies”: Bombay, Madras, and Bengal.

[6] A social stratification characterized by heredity, occupation, ritual status, and customary social interactions and exclusions based on such cultural notions as purity and pollution.  Although not confined to India, most people think of India when they think of caste systems.  Dating back 3,000 years, the caste system divides Hindus into four main categories, and this is determined by what they were in their past life.  These beliefs persist to the present day because they are deeply rooted in the Hindu religion. 

[7] More recently, it was claimed that American PsyOps programs floated rumors among Muslims that American soldiers dipped their small-arms ammunition in pork fat before loading their magazines — thus guaranteeing that the shot Muslim would go to hell.

[8] Sikhism is a hybrid between Hindu and Islamic belief systems.

[9] Malayan communists based their strategy on the fanciful assumption that communist victory in China would in some way presage Mao Zedong’s liberation of the much-maligned Chinese ethnics in Southeast Asia.  When the communists understood that a communist China gobbling up huge chunks of Southeast Asia was little more than madcap fantasy, the morale of Malayan killer gangs and jungle fighters collapsed.  This stands in stark contrast to the Vietnam War, where the communists were ethnic Vietnamese whose singular purpose was the reunification of the nation under a communist flag.