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By Ann Jensen
he well-documented breakout of the 1st Marine Division from its encirclement at Chosin Reservoir in December 1950 was one of the most savage battles in the history of modern warfare. Korean War histories, however, have obscured the prelude to that event—the division’s long march north toward its confrontation with 10-12 communist Chinese divisions, ordered to wipe out the Marines “to the last man.’’ Deaths among U.S. and allied troops numbered 3,000; 6,000 suffered wounds; and severe frostbite disabled another 3,000. Estimates put Chinese casualties at 37,500 with 25,000 killed.
Colonel Homer Litzenberg commanded the 7th Marine Regiment, which led the 1st Division out of the encirclement. The late Colonel Frederick R. Dowsett was Litzenberg’s executive officer. These are his recollections, shared with his daughter.
We landed at Wonsan at dawn on 26 October 1950 and got our marching orders almost immediately. We were to relieve the 26th Republic of Korea (ROK) Regiment, which was somewhere north of Hamhung. The United States had been pulled into action in Korea so quickly that there was no time to do any proper reconnaissance. The maps were Korean, obtained from the Japanese, and all the Korean markings had been written aver in Japanese. Then our people had done a hasty job of translating some of all that to English. The maps were next-to-useless for tactical purposes.
The best we could make out was that Hamhung was 80 miles north along the road to the Chosin Reservoir and the Yalu River. That, according to the word we were getting from General Douglas Mac Arthur’s command, was our ultimate destination. We were to spearhead the United Nations’s advance to the Yalu, which formed the border between North Korea and Manchuria. The North Koreans were disheartened, we were told, and a U.N. victory would be swift. Some of our boys would be home by Christmas.
As for the immediate future, we wanted something more specific about Hamhung and the ROK units we were supposed to relieve there. Colonel Litzenberg and I talked it over and decided that 1 would go to Hamhung and get what information I could before we moved the regiment out of Wonsan.
I found the commander of the 1st ROK Army Corps worried and anxious for us to relieve the 26th ROK Regiment. They were good men and battle-tested, he told me, but no match for a force the size of the one the Chinese were sending south from the Chosin Reservoir to reinforce the North Koreans.
The ROK general was confirming what our own intelligence sources had been telling us for some time. A number of Chinese troops had already been captured by the South Koreans, and our aerial reconnaissance showed definite enemy movement coming from the north. Whether MacArthur liked it or not, the Chinese were in Korea.
I took a good look at the mountains around me on the road back to Wonsan. This was going to be our main supply route. It was poorly maintained and vulnerable to weather and enemy attack from the surrounding high ground. If the Chinese did come down on us in force, getting enough ammunition, vital supplies, and equipment through to sustain a major engagement was going to be a major problem.
Temperatures at night were falling below freezing, and the sleeping bags and parkas that had come from headquarters with Operation Order 18-50 were welcome, as we headed for Hamhung, where we set up our command post. Fifteen miles north of town, we made contact with the 26th ROK Regiment. It had been attacked by elements of the 124th Division of the 42nd Chinese Communist Forces (CCF) Army and had 16 prisoners to prove it. From what the Koreans reported, we figured that the 124th had crossed the Yalu nearly three weeks earlier, and the 125th and 126th divisions were right behind them.
At dawn on 2 November, we began the move northward into the Sudong Valley. The road snaked along the valley floor, following the curves of the Song-chan River. The
In addition to command post locations and unit boundaries, Colonel Dowsett’s tactical map showed numbered objectives north of the Chosin Reservoir, to be seized by the Marines on their way to the Yalu River. After landing at Wonsan, the 7th Marines had not pushed far beyond Hamhung—into increasingly steep terrain and severe weather—before they learned that at least three Chinese divisions had crossed the Yalu and were heading their way.
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valley itself was more like a canyon with sides in many places that were rocky cliffs from which the enemy could easily control the foothills below.
We had gone only a short way into the valley when the 1st and 2nd Battalions began receiving small arms fire and occasional mortar and artillery rounds from the high ground on both sides of the road. We called in close air support, and the Marine aviators hit the ridge lines with 500-pound bombs, 20-mm. shells, and rockets. The Chinese positions were well-camouflaged and offered no clear targets for our dive bombers. The forward observers for our artillery batteries were not having any better luck than the aviators. As a result, we had to be content with area coverage, which was often spectacular, but no substitute for hard, point-target destruction.
By late afternoon that day, the advance had moved into the foothills, and our men were even moving along the ridgelines, 1,500 to 2,000 feet above the valley floor. It was a good time to halt, while we still had daylight, to dig in for the night and establish a defensive perimeter. That was not easy, because of the terrain and because of the way our battalions were spread out. There were going to be significant gaps, so we plotted and registered mortar and artillery fire to cover them. We ordered the battalions to establish smaller local security perimeters within their main ones, to counter Chinese infiltration or an all-out attack. And then, we bedded down and waited.
About midnight, the 1st Battalion reported probing attacks from both sides of the road. Minutes later, the 2nd Battalion was under attack. Within an hour, all hell broke loose—bursting flares, mortar fire, machine gun and rifle fire, all over the lot. Bugle calls echoed through the night, signaling more infantry attacks. Some of our units were being overrun, and for a brief time, an enemy tank threatened the 1st Battalion headquarters, until our 3.5-inch rocket launchers and 75-mm. recoilless rifles set it ablaze.
By daybreak on the 3rd, most of the Chinese within our perimeter had melted away. Only a few die-hards were left to be mopped up. Marine air was back overhead looking for targets, and the battalions were calling for artillery fire support. Everybody was working. The men of the 7th Marines had done their jobs well.
There was only one serious problem. Our lifeline, the road to Hamhung, had been cut behind us. A section of it was controlled from surrounding hillsides by the Chinese, who were dug into positions from which no amount of air strikes and artillery barrages could dislodge them.
The situation was becoming critical. After a night of heavy combat, our lead battalions needed ammunition and supplies. All we could do was hope the Chinese weren’t regrouping for a daylight attack. We called for an air drop of critical supplies for the 1st and 2nd Battalions.
As for the Chinese roadblock, help showed up in the form of the Division Recon company, returning from patrol and coming in below the enemy positions. They moved into the hills behind the Chinese, while the 2nd Battalion began a frontal attack. Supported by air and artillery fire, the 2nd Battalion overran the enemy positions.
Our trucks could move again. They took ammunition and vital supplies to all units and then stood by to bring out the dead and wounded. By dusk, we felt as though we were back in control. Reports were still incomplete, but we had 25-30 men killed. Another 150-200 were wounded—the equivalent of a reinforced rifle company now out of action. But the Chinese had suffered at least ten times that many casualties, with many more killed than wounded.
We also had about 50 unhurt prisoners and 75 wounded ones. From them, we learned that we had tangled with the 370th and 371st regiments of the 124th CCF Division. Our intelligence reports estimated that for all practical purposes, the 7th Marines had eliminated both regiments.
Our prisoners also told us that the remaining regiment of the 124th CCF Division, the 372nd, held the high ground on the flanks and far end of Funchilin Pass, which stood between us and our next objective, the Koto-ri Plateau. The 372nd was supported by the Chinese division’s full complement of artillery and heavy mortars, also positioned on the heights at the end of the pass.
Marine aviators reported that enemy convoys and troop units were still flowing southward from the Chosin Reservoir area. When we put together all of our intelligence, it looked like several regiments were moving in to reinforce the 372nd’s already sturdy defenses at Funchilin Pass.
The enemy was well dug-in, and our progress through the pass was slow. Our front units were fighting both the Chinese and the steep, rocky slopes. Major General O. P- Smith, our division commander, flew in to assess the situation and cautioned us to move ahead slowly, taking as few casualties as possible. We would need every man we had to seize Koto-ri in force and prepare for the Chinese counterattack we knew would come.
By sundown on 5 November, the 3rd Battalion, which was spearheading our advance, had fought its way close to the Chinese-held heights. During the night, our artillery and mortar barrages pounded the Chinese positions on the hilltops. Otherwise, the night was quiet. There was no return fire. At 0800 on the morning of 6 November, the 3rd Battalion resumed its attack and gained control of the high ground without opposition. The Chinese had left the summit to their dead and wounded.
According to plan, we began to build up ammunition and supplies and to consolidate our gains before pushing on to Koto-ri. Army Major General Edward Almond, X Corps commander, arrived on the afternoon of the 7th, wanting to know why we weren’t pushing ahead with all possible speed. We explained.
Our supply lines were overextended, and we had suffered many casualties, both from the enemy and from the cold. We also wanted to send out some patrols to find out what the Chinese were doing. They were too quiet—in our sector, anyway. On our western flank, the Eighth Army was steadily losing ground to the Chinese. We were feeling increasingly vulnerable to attack from that quarter. Also, we had only a two-day level of ammunition and supplies. We needed at least enough for five days before we could move on to Koto-ri, where our resupply route was a one-lane dirt road with a bridge that didn’t look like it could stand up under truck traffic.
“And if I see that you’ve got a five-day level of ammunition and supplies, you’ll move out?” asked Almond.
“Yes,” said Litzenberg. “Once we get what we need, we’ll move out.”
General Almond’s impatience actually helped us, for once. Supplies started rolling in the next day. But we got no more intelligence about the Chinese, and as our battalions moved through Funchillin Pass on 9 November, it looked as though the enemy had pulled out.
Once more, General Almond appeared, pleased by our progress, but dissatisfied that we were not pushing directly on to Koto-ri. This time, the engineers straightened him out. The road ahead would never carry heavy traffic, and the engineers could not begin work on it until our infantry units gained control of the high ground.
Put off momentarily, the general decided to award a few Silver Stars, but discovered, as we led him to the 3rd Battalion area, that his aide had forgotten to bring any medals. He went ahead with the ceremony anyway, giving the men paper IOUs and his unfortunate aide a public
The cold was proving to be as formidable an enemy as the Chinese. Away from the sheltering mountains, it was 10-15 degrees colder at Koto-ri than it had been in the Sudong Valley, and the wind-chill factor was much worse. A dry, powdery snow on the ground swirled with each gust of wind. We were taking few battle casualties at the time, but the doctors reported a significant increase in frostbite cases.
We thought we were pretty well prepared to meet the cold. The Marines who had come with Litzenberg and me from Lejeune had been through cold-weather training in Labrador not long before we were ordered to the Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean and from there to Inchon. We had joked about the cold-weather maneuvers when we got word we were going to the Med. No one was joking now.
Even the parkas were creating problems. No matter how cold the weather got, a man wearing a parka and carrying a pack and a bedroll could work up a healthy sweat. When he stopped, the moisture could quickly bring on a chill,
chewing out.
We were receiving radio reports from a patrol on the high ground. From its position, it could see all the way to Koto-ri—but no Chinese. When it returned late that afternoon, it had covered 25 miles in 26 hours and had no more than a brush or two with enemy patrols. By 1000 on the morning of 10 November—the 175th birthday of our Corps—the 1st Battalion had seized Koto-ri. The rest of the regiment moved in, and we set up a perimeter defense and began active patrolling.
Thanksgiving on Turkey Hill
On 20 November, the 5th Marines were just about set up at Hagaru, when we received an order that made us wonder if the folks in the rear knew a war was still on. Everyone would receive a turkey dinner with all the trimmings to celebrate Thanksgiving Day on 23 November.
At first, 1 thought it was one of those home-by-Christmas-type rumors, but this one arrived with a soup-to-nuts menu. The regimental supply officer reported trucks coming in loaded with turkeys, fruit cocktail, nuts, hard candy, and coffee, and all the fixings for dressing, mashed potatoes, and mince pies. We could forget about ammunition, fuel oil, and rifle-company replacements for a while.
What a splendid idea. Our field ranges were already working around the clock, heating C-rations and water for coffee— whenever the men could get back from the front lines to get them. When they did come back, they carried only a knife, a spoon, and a cup. To lighten their back-packing burden, we had collected everything but the bare necessities. So they had no mess gear. Also, when we went to C-rations, we had reassigned a number of mess sergeants to rifle squads and platoons, where they were sorely needed. Now we would have to pull them off the line to help cook this meal, at the same time.
In addition, if we were going to maintain the security of our perimeter, we could only bring half of the men in from the front, which meant a three- or four-mile hike through the snow. So, half would get their meal on Thanksgiving Day. The rest would chow down the day after. At least the mess sergeants would not have to worry about
enough to take him out of action.
The cold was another reason we were not moving ahead as fast as we thought we might. In the cold, everything took more time. On the move, we had to stop early to allow time to set up warming tents for the wounded and the frostbite cases, and to get the field ranges fired up to heat water for coffee and for warming our rations. That was standard procedure, for eating cold C-rations could tear up a man’s digestive system.
The men were just beginning to come to grips with the cold, when our patrols started reporting encounters with small groups of Chinese in our area. More disturbing was information from our air observers, who were attacking large numbers of Chinese troops moving our way from northwest of the Chosin Reservoir. We had good reason to believe that there were even more Chinese out there than our aviators saw. Growing numbers of weary and terrified North Korean refugees told us that the Chinese were moving at night and hiding in schools and other large buildings by day, to avoid our air strikes. We reported our intelligence to Division, suggesting that our bombers hit suspicious-looking buildings.
On 12 November, one of our patrols drew fire from what it estimated was a company dug into a defensive position in the hills. Quickly reinforced, the patrol launched an attack and, with air support, overran the
Carrier-based Marine aviators reported enemy troop movements and provided close air support (here, an F4U Corsair pulls up after dropping napalm ahead of advancing troops). Pushing past the Chosin in sub-zero weather, the Marines, now surrounded by 10-12 Chinese divisions, attacked—southward this time—only to find that the Chinese had blown some of their bridges behind them.
enemy position. It returned to Koto-ri with 8 Marines killed and 16 wounded.
That night we received orders to seize Hagaru-ri, about 11 miles north of Koto-ri, and then to await the order to move on to seize Yudam-ni. The 5th Marines would move a battalion in behind us, to guard the supply base we’d worked so hard to build up at Koto-ri.
The order to move so soon came as a surprise. We had received hardly any replacements since we landed at Wonsan a month earlier, and we were well below strength.
We entered Hagaru on 14 November without opposition, but we knew the Chinese were there, waiting—for what, we didn’t know. We did know that to the west of us, the U.S. Eighth Army was still catching hell from them
and falling back. We just had to be sure we were ready. Over the next three days we worked on building up Hagaru as a combat base, and the engineers began staking out an airstrip.
Korean refugees continued to report seeing Chinese troops, but our patrols made no contact with the enemy. Nor did our aerial observers see any significant troop movement. In the meantime, the buildup at Hagaru continued, with the added headaches of new units crowding into the area.
The drive was still on to the Yalu, and on 18 November, in the arrival of the 5th Marines, who took up defensive positions in the northeast sector of our perimeter—where we sorely needed help.
By the night of 25 November, the 7th Marines had secured Yudam-ni, which lay in the center of a broad valley overlooked by five large ridges. A spur of the Chosin Reservoir extended into the town. We prepared for the 5th Marines to pass through our lines the next day on their way to attack Yongnim-dong, 27 miles to the west.
That night passed without incident, but the 26th brought chilling intelligence from three Chinese prisoners. They reported that the 58th, 59th, and 60th divisions of the 20th Chinese Field Army were lying in wait around Yudam-ni. As soon as the 5th Marines arrived, they intended to cut
men could throw frozen drumsticks this time.
As the cooks began serving the meal on Thanksgiving Day, the order came through to advance on Yudam-ni. The dinnerless 1st Battalion led the way, running into small groups of Chinese who fired, then ran when they got a response. These Marines finally received their turkey and the other easily transportable parts of the Thanksgiving feast we could send forward to them after their assault of a high hill overlooking Yudam-ni. The hillside—shortly strewn with turkey carcasses—was thereafter known as “Turkey Hill.”
Frederick R. Dowsett
filled his parka pockets with nuts and candy to carry with him back to the front lines. The men did not complain. It was a poor excuse for a Thanksgiving dinner, but it beat C-rations six ways to Sunday.
Even so, we had to wonder at the cost, when the regimental supply officer gave us an accounting of our level of ammunition and essential supplies. Because the supply trucks had been tied up, first transporting the division units to Hagaru, and then, with delivering groceries, our level of critical supplies had dropped to its lowest point since we regrouped after the Chinese night attack in the Sudong Valley. If they attacked, maybe the
spoilage. The food would freeze solid overnight.
That was small consolation. Their field ranges and stock pots were not designed for roasting turkeys and baking pies. Nevertheless, the cooks worked all night to get the dinner ready. They finally gave up entirely on the pies, trying gamely to make fruit cakes out of the mince meat. One mess sergeant just stuffed the pie ingredients into his turkeys. Since the men had no mess gear, the cooks cut up cardboard boxes for plates and carved up large hunks of turkey that the men could eat with their hands, a la Henry VIII. They spooned the fruit cocktail into each Marine’s canteen cup and
the main supply route back to Hagaru, then surround and attack us from all directions.
It was hard to believe that three infantrymen would be privy to such high-level information, but they told us that they had been sick and were kept in a headquarters building where they had heard the battle plans being hashed out. That was good enough for us. We passed the information on to Division and to the 5th Marines and battened down for a major attack that night.
But again, the night was quiet, disturbed only by a few bursts of small-arms fire. The worst thing we had to contend with was a strong wind blowing from the north, plunging temperatures far below zero.
On the morning of 27 November, the 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines began their attack to the west, supported by lire from our 3rd Battalion. The Chinese were ready, dug in all across the front with well-defended roadblocks hindering our advance. We called in air support and kept up a barrage of artillery and mortar fire, but the strength of the enemy increased as the attack continued.
Late in the afternoon, we ordered our units into defensive positions for the night and assessed our strength. We now had two infantry regiments and two artillery battalions at Yudam-ni with 30 105-mm. and 18 155-mm. howitzers and two 4.2-inch mortar companies—enough fire power, if we could keep the weapons supplied with ammunition. The 5th Marines were at about 90% strength, but the rifle companies of the 7th Marines were below 70%. As a result we assigned staff and administrative personnel to rifle companies to boost their foxhole strength.
Around 2100 on 27 November, the Chinese began probing attacks against the 3rd Battalion, 7th Marines, which was dug in on the high ground covering the road to the west. Half an hour later, the 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines was also under attack. Our rifle and machine gun fire was piling up enemy bodies, but the waves of Chinese kept coming. At 0230, we received radio reports from two of our rifle companies in defensive positions along the main supply route back to Hagaru through Toktong Pass. Both had received heavy attacks and suffered many casualties. But they were holding.
The Chinese appeared to be using the same tactics that they did against us in the Sudong night attack. We knew we had to hold off their main attack and prevent a major penetration of our lines until daylight when we could bring in air strikes and other heavy fire power. We were taking heavy casualties, but nothing to compare to the slaughter we were inflicting on them.
Our intelligence officer made his estimate shortly after first light. Three Chinese divisions had attacked us from the north and south, and they’d been badly hurt. His conservative estimate put the enemy casualties at more than 5,000—but they still had ample strength to launch a major attack.
Colonel Ray Murray of the 5th Marines was worried about his troops. They had taken little or no time to rest or stop for food and water in 24 hours. They also had suffered heavy losses, especially from the cold, since they had not been dealing with it as long as we had. Neither the 5th nor the 7th had a sufficient level of ammunition and
other supplies, and the Chinese commanded the road between us and resupply from Hagaru. There was no further thought of continuing the attack to the west.
Our two regiments at Yudam-ni had suffered a total of 450 battle casualties and 175-200 non-battle ones, mostly from the extreme cold. Our rifle company at Toktong Pass had 20 killed and 54 wounded. They were still surrounded, and it was going to take a relief force of at least battalion strength to break through to relieve them.
During the daylight hours of 28 November, we began to receive parachute drops of ammunition and critical supplies. We tended to our casualties as the number of frostbite cases grew. The Chinese didn’t resume their attack i that night. They probably had to do some regrouping as well.
Late the next afternoon, we got new orders from Division. The 5th Marines would hold Yudam-ni and the 7th would attack south to clear the road to Hagaru. So the drive to the Yalu was over. We were not surprised. We had heard the U.S. Eighth Army was in full retreat. The need for us to cross the mountains to our west to join them in a rush to the Yalu River had ended. According to intelligence estimates, 10-12 Chinese divisions surrounded us.
We were outnumbered by about 20-1, but there was no time to think about that.
We were headed back to Hagaru, and we had a long way to go. We would be fighting every step of the way and we had to start planning that first step.
The attack south began on 30 November. By noon on 2 December, the relentless cross-country attack of the 1st Battalion, 7th Marines, led by Lieutenant Colonel Ray Davis, had relieved the grim defenders of Toktong Pass, the beleaguered Fox Company, 2nd Battalion, 7th Marines, commanded by Captain Bill Barber. Both Davis and Barber would receive the Medal of Honor.
Later on 2 December, the 7th Marines entered the 1 st Marine Division perimeter at Hagaru. They were down to an effective strength of 1,500 officers and men. A provisional Army battalion of some 500 men, equipped with Marine Corps weapons and gear, was attached to the 7th Marines for the next move south to Koto-ri, which began on 6 December.
That evening, Colonel Dowsett was seriously wounded during a Chinese ground attack that nearly decimated the command group of the 7th Marines. He was evacuated to Japan and then to the United States.
The fighting withdrawal of the 1st Marine Division from the Chosin Reservoir ended on 11 December 1950, when the last elements of the Division reached the Hamhung area. The Division emerged intact as a fighting unit and inflicted heavy casualties on six Chinese divisions encountered en route. The Marines came out with all of their wounded and all of their serviceable equipment. There were no stragglers.
Ann Jensen is a freelance writer in maritime and naval history. She is presently a staff writer for Annapolitan magazine, Annapolis, MD.