AMERICAN TROOPS came home from World War II to cheers,
from Vietnam to derision. But those who returned from Korea were
often simply ignored.
The Korean Conflict--the situation was too politically complicated
to call it a war, even though that's precisely what it was--lasted
from June of 1950 to July of 1953. Precisely 33,629 Americans
were killed before the fighting ended in stalemate, with the border
between the two Koreas in about the same place it had been before
the shooting commenced. Had the U.S. been able to do that in Vietnam,
where more Americans died over a much longer time, we'd have called
it a stunning victory. But Korea was a different time, a different
place.
The first year was a war of motion. The North Koreans drove the
Americans and South Koreans into a small pocket in the southeast
around the port of Pusan. After an amphibious landing behind the
North Koreans, U.N. forces advanced in some places to the Chinese
border. The effort was ultimately joined by a dozen nations, but
Americans and South Koreans did most of the fighting.
Then came massive Chinese intervention and the push back into
South Korea, and the counter-push to approximately the current
border. Seoul, the capital of South Korea, changed hands four
times in less than a year before the conflict settled into a brutal
holding operation while the players hammered out a truce which
still stands, on a border that still heats up occasionally.
TUCSONANS, PARTICULARLY the 258 active officers and men
of E ("Easy") Company, contributed disproportionately
to the Marine Corps effort in the Korean Conflict.
Formed in 1947 around a core of World War II vets, it was the
13th Infantry USMCR, the local Marine Reserve unit. The other
members of Easy Company were mostly kids, many still in high school.
The outfit was heavily Hispanic--about 80 percent. They came from
Barrio Anita and Barrio Crouger, Barrio El Hoyo and Barrio Hollywood,
barrios Libre, Milville and Pascua, and the farms and ranches
that still dotted Tucson's outskirts.
And some were Native Americans. Sgt. Johnson McAfee, from Continental,
was a Pima who'd fought in the South Pacific. An inactive member
of E Company, he showed up when the unit was mobilized. McAfee
was killed in action November 28, 1950.
The survivors of Easy Company can tell you what it was like to
grow up in Tucson in the '30s and '40s, when the Santa Cruz still
had water in it most of the year.
"Tucson's economy wasn't good after World War II,"
says Sam Borozan, who, with his late brother Mike, was recruited
from Tucson High. "Davis-Monthan Air Force Base was just
a few guys parking B-29s--it wasn't used for anything else then.
Jobs were tight, and we got four days' pay for two drills a month,
along with full pay for two weeks of summer camp. A lot of guys
signed up for the underwear and the shoes." The few really
good jobs were with government or the Southern Pacific Railroad.
Sam's other brother, George, who participated in 38 combat missions
over Korea as an Air Force B-29 crew chief, reminds us that their
generation of American males had something called a "military
obligation"--at least two years of active duty or a six-year
hitch in the Reserves or National Guard. But there was something
else--pride and patriotism were more powerful motivating forces
back then. Those green USMC T-shirts were a badge of honor at
Tucson High.
And that patriotism showed in July 1950, when Easy Company was
called up and sent to Camp Pendleton, California. Many of the
men could have sought deferments, while others were under age
and could have ducked. Almost none did.
MARINE BRASS immediately broke up E Company and used it
as a replacement pool to fill in other outfits.
After the heavy casualties taken in the Philippines early in
World War II by National Guard groups--the New Mexico unit was
a big portion of the Bataan Death March--U.S. military planners
shied away from committing troops from one geographic area as
a unit.
There were also too many members of the same family too close
together. Besides the Borozans, Easy Company had at least six
other pairs of brothers--including three named Cocio--and many
cousins. The problem of committing brothers was driven home by
the loss of all five Sullivan boys aboard the USS Juneau
in 1942. And the Arizona National Guard--the famous Bushmasters--contributed
multiple Gold Stars to too many Arizona mothers. The recent film
Saving Private Ryan was based on the problem.
Unfortunately, the policy makers also hadn't done much in the
way of adequate training. Most of E Company hadn't even been to
Boot Camp, and many learned how to fire and take their weapons
apart on the ship to Korea.
"They lined us up and asked who had been to two summer camps,"
recalls Gilbert "Niggie" Romero. "I thought that
meant we were going to get some training--after a few weeks I
was on a troopship headed for the Inchon landing."
Harold Don was a machine-gunner who learned how to strip his
weapon on the same trip and first fired it in combat. Raul Reyes
practiced with his newly issued bazooka by aiming at flying fish,
which he tried to imagine were tanks.
Those who had recently joined or who had gone inactive were sometimes
sent to basic training and were part of later replacement groups.
There were about 60 more members of E Company on the inactive
roster. But the Marine Corps was so short of people that it took
reservists just to fill out the regiments of the Korea-bound First
Division.
The Army was in worse shape--many outfits consisted of about
one-third untrained Korean draftees, often literally pulled off
the streets, who couldn't speak English.
Easy Company men were scattered throughout the First Marine Division.
Romero, with nine others, was sent to Able Company, First Battalion,
First Regiment--"1-1-1." His company commander, Capt.
Robert H. Barrow, was later a four-star general and the Commandant
of the Marine Corps. Don drew the same battalion's Heavy Weapons
Company. Others went to the Fifth and Seventh Infantry regiments
and the Eleventh Artillery; still others found themselves in supply
and transportation units.
And some never got to Korea at all. While his little brother
Mike spent a year with the First Transportation Battalion on raging
battlefields from Inchon and Seoul to the Chosin Reservoir and
the hard fighting in the South that came after, Sam Borozan was
a cook who never got farther than Hawaii. Another E Company veteran,
who, like Mike Borozan, later became a Tucson city councilman
was Rudy Castro. A star athlete, Castro spent his hitch playing
baseball.
Retired State Appellate Court Judge Mike Lacagnina was 17 when
he was called up. "At Pendleton, they asked who could type.
Four of us put up our hands, so I was used as a clerk--something
badly needed then. Later, when the publicity hit over under-age
Marines being killed in Korea, they sent me to basic training.
I guess I did well on too many tests, because I got further training
and ended up in the Marine Air Wing stationed in California until
I was discharged in 1952."
Lacagnina's dad was a barber with a shop on Tucson Boulevard.
There was another barber on Campbell Avenue whose son wasn't so
lucky. PFC Corbett Robertson, 19, died of wounds received in the
Inchon landing. He was the first member of E Company to be killed
in action.
It was luck of the draw and those who drew better cards are not
looked down upon today by their former comrades.
TO THIS day, nobody knows what happened to all the members
of Easy Company. They came home, they went back to work, married,
raised families, and some went to school under the GI Bill. Some
never returned to Tucson, others have moved away. Still others
stayed in the Marine Corps, where two--1st Lt. Gilbert Urias and
Sgt. Herbert Oxnam Jr.--retired as colonels.
Sixteen-year-old PFC Juan Alvarez served for 20 years and commanded
a company in one of his three Vietnam tours, eventually retiring
as a captain. Others who stayed in the Corps and served in Vietnam
include Arnulfo "Nufi" Borboa, Ruben Carillo and Robert
L. Castro. There were, no doubt, more.
Many others rejoined the reconstituted reserve unit and would've
seen another war if the decision had been made to call up reserve
units again.
Some Easy Company vets became high-level civil servants, like
the first president of the Tucson Marine Corps League (MCL), the
late Tom Price, who was Tucson's politically powerful city operations
director. Eduardo Lovio became a battalion fire chief, Corpsman
Jimmy Fisher was a school principal.
Today, about 60 are known to have died; another 60 or so are
members of The Tucson Marine Corps League; and about 40 more live
here but apparently choose not to participate in the League or
other activities Some of those men don't want to talk about what
they went through.
Twelve were killed in action--and the knowledge of that 12th
KIA was only recently discovered by E Company survivors. On March
26, 1953, PFC Alfonso Lopez, who had finished his first hitch
and then re-enlisted, was one of 41 Marines overrun by two Chinese
battalions in the four-hour battle for Outpost Reno. He's still
officially listed as MIA.
The men of Easy Company earned at least eight Silver Stars, six
Bronze Stars, two Letters of Commendation, and more than 40 Purple
Hearts. Martiriano Ramirez got his 44 years later. Easy Company's
commanding officer, Captain Morse Holladay, earned the Navy Cross--the
highest award below the Medal of Honor. He later rose to command
3rd Battalion, 5th Marines. Many other medals were no doubt earned
but not reported.
The Tucson Chapter of the MCL, while not limited to Easy Company
vets, was born out of their first reunion, which occurred in 1970.
One of the guiding forces behind it was the late Tom Price, for
whom the MCL Post on 29th Street is named.
FOR A long time Ruben Moreno didn't want to talk about his Marine
Corps experience. A few years ago, he changed his mind. "What
we did is an important part of our history and Tucson's heritage,"
he says now. "The stories need to be recorded."
Moreno had already performed his military obligation by serving
in the U.S. Navy. He was recruited into Easy Company after his
discharge and became a machine-gunner in D Company, 2nd Battalion,
1st Marines, where he saw about as much action as any anyone--from
Inchon through Seoul to Chosin and back to the South and North
again in the Spring of 1951. Two of those Bronze Stars are his.
Today, Moreno is the unit historian for E Company. He's collected
a number of oral histories of Easy Company members and a wealth
of other material; his tapes are on file with the Arizona Historical
Society, and he's published two booklets containing 18 stories,
with a third in preparation. Many of the facts in this article
come from those interviews.
One story not contained in those booklets is Moreno's own. The
citation for his second Bronze Star tells us that when his unit
was moving between two ridges, they were hit by well dug-in Chinese
troops. A number of Marines were hit, including the lieutenant
in command. Several wounded Marines were lying in the open, and
the Chinese were ready to pick off any rescuers. Moreno turned
his machine gun over to his assistant and went to a badly wounded
Marine, who told him to leave him and save himself. Ignoring him,
Moreno lay on his belly to let the wounded man crawl onto his
back. He then carried him to safety--uphill and under fire. Moreno
soon took command of the unit and held the position until they
were relieved and ordered back.
"Heroism" is a relative term, apparently--in other
wars, Moreno's singular act of courage would have drawn at least
a Silver Star. In the Gulf War Moreno might've gotten the Medal
of Honor.
But he's equally proud of his first Bronze Star, won outside
of Seoul. That one was signed off by the man who pinned it on
him, the colonel commanding the lst Marine Regiment, the legendary
Lewis B. "Chesty" Puller.
To those who don't know of him, it's hard to explain that a Chesty
Puller actually existed. That he and George Patton had some mutual
ancestors serve--and die--with the Confederacy at Gettysburg gives
a hint. That he was the most decorated Marine in history--52 times,
including five Navy Crosses, some garnered in Haiti and Nicaragua
between the big wars, and during World War II as a battalion commander
at Guadalcanal, Saipan and Pelelieu--tells us much more. One Puller
story has him responding to the news that his regiment was completely
surrounded by Chinese troops with the line, "Good. Now we
can shoot in every direction." Another expanded version includes:
"Those poor bastards. They've got us just where we want them."
The Puller legend has bred so many stories that some have to
be embellishments. But Moreno can confirm one oft-told Puller
tale first hand:
THE 2ND Battalion was under a North Korean tank attack
outside of Seoul, where Moreno got that first Bronze Star. General
Douglas MacArthur had come forward to award Puller another Silver
Star. An aide to the General was looking for Puller, and found
him on top of a hill, up front and in the thick of the fight,
as always. The aide told Puller the General wanted to see him.
Puller told the aide he was busy, and if the General wanted him,
he could come up the hill.
MacArthur, to his credit, did. He gave Puller his medal, which
went in a cigar box with all the others. Many Easy Company veterans
are proud to have served under Chesty Puller, particularly those
who fought around the Chosin Reservoir.
One of the finest stories of courage and determination in the
history of both the Marine Corps and the United States is the
fabled fighting retreat of X Corps from North Korea. X Corps consisted
of the lst Marine Division, the 3rd and 7th U.S. Infantry Divisions,
and two ROK (South Korean) divisions, along with a small British
force.
After the Inchon landing, they'd been moved to the east side
of North Korea and were separated from the rest of the U.N. forces
by more than 100 miles of cold, barren wilderness. They were advancing
over a wide front, in pursuit of what was believed by the allied
high command to be the remnants of the North Korean forces supplemented
by a few thousand Chinese volunteers. Allied intelligence had
failed to notice four Chinese field armies in X Corps' section
alone.
The First Marine Division, along with some Army outfits, was
stretched out along more than 50 miles of miserable road, 60 miles
inland from the coastal supply bases at Hamhung and Hungnan, when
the Chinese got into the war in a big way. The Fifth and Seventh
Regiments were on the west side of the Chosin Reservoir--Changjin
in Korean, but it will always be known to those who were there
by the name it carried on the incomplete Japanese maps used by
American troops. The First Regiment was holding Koto-ri 10 miles
southeast when the Chinese attacked.
First Lt. George Wheeland, today a retired City of Tucson finance
officer, recalls Thanksgiving, 1950:
"Morse Holladay and I were in supply. We spent that day
running cranberries for Thanksgiving Dinner." The Borozan
family scrapbook includes a copy of the menu for that dinner.
Harold Don remembers not getting his until a day later, and others
recall that their food froze in the well-below-zero weather.
Wheeland served as a WW II combat platoon leader on Eniwetok,
Saipan, and Iwo Jima. "I was lucky--my outfit drew mop-up
every time. I was never in any early waves."
But Wheeland's luck ran out in the initial Chinese attack a few
days later, when he was hit in the back by Chinese mortar fragments.
Unable to stand, he was literally dragged down a hill in the snow
to safety. He recovered in the United States and was assigned
to non-combat duty for the remainder of the war. He later joined
the reconstituted reserve unit, and retired as a major and the
outfit's CO in the '50s.
"What probably saved me was the amount of clothing I was
wearing. It was bitterly cold and I just kept putting on more
clothes," Wheeland says.
Temperatures in the mountains sometimes dropped to 40 below with
a blowing wind. Men froze to death in foxholes, and frostbite
caused as many casualties as enemy action. Some of those frostbite
victims have recurring problems to this day. And others have had
delayed reactions, like Earl "Tiny" Collins, who served
with Charlie Company of the Motor Transport Battalion. He won
a Bronze Star with V in the Chosin campaign for clearing burning
trucks from a road under heavy enemy fire. He came back to a long
career as a heavy-equipment operator and retired a few years ago.
Collins has already lost both legs and the fingers from one hand.
"Tiny" Collins, 6-feet-5, says he's so big he has to
die a little bit at a time.
The cold gave Niggie Romero his first hospital visit. Knocked
down and unable to rise from a Chinese grenade blast, Romero almost
froze to death before he was found by another E Company Marine,
Henry Valdenegro, and carried off. He spent a week on a hospital
ship that time.
THE MARINES on the west side of the reservoir around Hagaru-ri
were hit hard. The Army units of the 7th Division on the east
side were annihilated. Out of 3,300 engaged in the battle between
November 28 and December 1, only about 500 soldiers survived death
or imprisonment. The rest straggled into Marine positions and
then joined in the epic fighting retreat to the coast.
Surrounded, greatly outnumbered, and dependent on air support
for supplies and the evacuation of wounded, there were no non-combatants.
Transportation troops like Price, Borozan and Collins, along with
Robert Castro, Vicente Suarez and Al Felix, drove literally for
days without stopping. Supply outfits fought off ambushes and
broke roadblocks. Engineers cleared roads and built bridges under
heavy fire.
On December 11, after fighting off continuous attacks by Chinese
and North Koreans, the First Marine Division reached the relative
safety of Hungnam, where they took more casualties during the
perimeter defense. They were all evacuated by December 18. Besides
their dead, they left behind two greatly mauled Chinese armies.
They never called it a retreat--they simply advanced in a different
direction.
THE DIVISION was re-committed to the Masan area in South
Korea to handle "guerrillas"--in reality, North Korean
units bypassed in the earlier offensive. On February 21, the Marines
were back in the front lines counter attacking the massive gains
the Chinese had made into South Korea.
On March 22, Romero caught shrapnel in both legs. After being
patched in a field hospital--his second hospital visit--he was
back on the line. In action around Yodung, he caught a machine-gun
bullet in the chin. Henry Trujillo was wounded at the same time.
The wounded Romero was strapped into a helicopter side litter.
Harold Don and others watched as the chopper went down in enemy
fire. The Marine in the other litter was killed. Rescued, Romero
was then loaded onto a truck with other wounded. The truck was
ambushed, and Romero was hit again--in both legs.
The round Romero had taken in the chin had deflected into his
chest cavity and emerged below his armpit. It looked bad. Field
hospital medics red-tagged him, and put him aside with those beyond
hope.
But one of the medics there was a Navy Corpsman from E Company,
Jimmy Fisher. Romero still has the "escapulario" Fisher
gave him.
Later, they had to pry it from his closed hand. "It's the
only thing I brought back from Korea," Romero says. He has
three Purple Hearts. He'd have more, but getting hit more than
once in a 24-hour period didn't count.
Romero woke up in Japan two weeks later with his jaw wired shut.
Almost 50 years later, he's still going back to the VA Hospital
for additional surgery, but his stoic cheerfulness and sense of
humor is a joy to behold. "There was an M written on my forehead
in the hospital. Some guys tried to convince me it was for Mexican--it
actually meant morphine."
THERE ARE enough other stories of Easy Company to fill
a large volume, but one more needs to be told, that of David Arellano:
A First Battalion, First Regiment, machine gunner, he was wounded
at Wonsan. After three months on the hospital ship Hope,
he returned to his unit. Hit later in the face, the wound became
infected. He kept quiet about it to get home.
After returning to Tucson, the infection grew worse. The VA Hospital
denied him admission--Korean War participants were not eligible
for VA benefits because it wasn't a declared war. When the American
Legion and the national media spread Arellano's story, Congress
acted immediately, and President Harry S Truman signed the bill
extending benefits to all Korean vets on the same day Arellano
got his operation--at the Pima County Hospital. He has a scrapbook
containing newspaper clippings and get-well cards from all over
the nation.
In this cynical age, when patriotism and devotion to duty are
often denigrated, the modest heroes of Easy Company stand out
like beacons. They weren't alone--another 63 Tucsonans, or those
with a Tucson connection, were killed in Korea, at a time when
Tucson's population was a mere 50,000.
It may be called the "forgotten war," but we can never
forget their sacrifice. The men of Easy Company represent not
only an important part of Tucson's heritage, but America's.
The writer wishes to thank those Easy Company members he interviewed,
and others whose stories he acquired elsewhere. Portions of this
article came from two pamphlets, E-Company Marines Remembered,
published by Ruben Moreno and available through the Tucson Marines
Corps League, and Tucson's Korean War Dead, published in
1997 by William E. Biggleston.
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