The Attack
The next morning we moved out on schedule. The night was pitch black. As we moved on down the road past the Item Co area, that unit, waiting by the side of the road, fell in behind. The night was so black it was lika walking through an ink well. Leading the column, I tried vainly to make out some landmark. After walking for about twenty minutes, I heard some activity on the side of the road, I suspected we were close to the point on the road where I was to turn left to reach the jump-off point. I halted the column and contacted the leader of the heavy machine gun platoon that was to support my company and told him to follow my last platoon. We moved on to the edge of the paddy field. It was now about 0345. I formed the company as silently as possible and waited. The night before I had impressed on the leaders the vital necessity of moving in fast the moment the supporting fires lifted. If discovered and brought under enemy fire, the sensible way to go was forward. In any case, no matter what happened, once we started across the paddy, no man would take a backward step.
For purposes of morale, I decided to lead the attack. The operation looked like a suicidal one. I was uneasy that a sudden exposure to enemy fire in that naked field would cause a panic and failure. I was certain they would follow me. At 0415, we moved out. We proceeded across as silently as possible until we reached a point about 150 yards from the enemy side. I halted the column. I checked my watch, it was 0425. There was not a sound from the enemy side. I now regretted that an artillery preparation had been planned. I was certain we could have moved in under cover of the inky blackness without firing a shot. Too late now. I checked the time again, 0430, when a whistling swish told me that the artillery was right on time. The first few rounds fell short, less than 50 yards from my company. I was telling Sgt Smith, who was next to me carrying an SCR-300 radio, to inform battalion the artillery was short and to increase the range when an avalanche descended right on top of the column and all the way back to the Battalion CP. Smith said he could not contact the battalion. I told the men to pass the the word back to stop the firing. Stop the artillery went roaring back along the column, but the artillery kept coming.
The artillery that was firing was one Chinese battalion of 105-MM How firin g from a position east of the air strip and one American battery of 76.2-MM from the vicinity of the road fork at Radhapur. I greatly feared this was the straw that would break the camel’s back. Not a man broke. They held their general formations while taking as much cover as possible. I moved from squad to squad and told them to stand firm and assured them we would get It stopped soon. The fire that was landing on the leading companies was from the 105-MM Chinese battalion. The battalion CP was being hit by the American 76.2-MM from Radhapur. The American battery was soon contacted and its fire stopped, but that did the companies no good, especially mine that was exposed in the middle of the paddy like ducks on a pond.
My chief concern now was in maintaining our form ation. The fire continued on as intensive as ever as the hands on my watch moved closer to five o’clock. I could not understand why this fire could not be stopped. Later I was to learn of the incredible fact that not only had the artillery not been registered in but that there was no communication with the Chinese artillery, so the fire came down, men were hit, and nothing could be done about it. I checked the time again. It was 0455. The first streaks of light heralded the new day – only five minutes to go. I alerted my men and urged them to move in as rapidly as possible the moment the fire lifted. Five o’clock! The fire began to slacken. Get ready! I was too optimistic. The artillery was supposed to fire from 0430 to 0500. Now at 0500, when ‘Cease Fire’ should have been given, it came down with greater intensity than ever, most of it on my company. The men flattened as beat they could in the flooded field.
Five past five. The fire continued. The morning now was becoming rapidly lighter. The enemy side could be clearly seen; so could the sitting ducks. Ten past five – geysers erupting all over the area. Five fifteen – no change. Broad daylight now. Five twenty – wont those bastards ever stop? I looked back towards the rear of the column. Everyone not in the paddy had taken cover. The mortars that were to support our crossing were not firing, the crews having been driven away from their guns by the fire. Five twenty-two – fire began to slacken. Five twenty-five – Still Firing! To hell with it – let’s go! The company moved forward as one man. We raced for the enemy side. Next, to me was Sgt Smith and Pvts Sardella and Tickey, my runners. Immediately behind me was Lt Algieri with Cpl Duncan leading the 1st Platoon. I glanced to my left. Sgt Pete Pestrano, a tough Regular Army Indian, was driving forward. We gained the opposite side. Two Japs in the first dugout died. Ten yards in from the paddy’s edge, we knocked out a machine-gun crew of three. Cpl Duncan killed a Jap rifleman just beyond the machine-gun nest. The 1st Platoon was now driving up the trail. A machine gun opened into their flank from a position almost under my feet. It apparently was firing from the same dugout as the one we had just destroyed. This second gun was immediately destroyed and three more Japs died.
The 3d Platoon was now across and pushing to the south along the paddy. The 2d Platoon moved in on the left of the first. The Machine gun and Weapons Platoon was now over. We now had a half-moon perimeter with its flanks on the paddy. I ordered the men to dig in quickly in anticipation of a counterattack. The machine guns were in position and Lt Meade began registering his mortars. Item Co was pouring over now, the 1st Platoon led by Lt Newman. He asked, ‘where do you want us?’ I pointed to the trail that separated the perimeter and told him to deploy from the trail to the left, that Item Co would occupy that part of the perimeter. When they were in position, I moved all of my men to the right side of the trail. We then moved the whole perimeter forward about 25 yards to make room for so many additional men.
Love Co followed, less one platoon, and drove to the north to guard against a Jap force that was supposed to be between us and the 2d Battalion. They established a number of outposts to the north and west and reached out as far as 900 to 1000 yards or almost to the 2d Battalion. They had no major action here, but encountered numerous Jap patrols and suffered casualties from infiltration groups. Mike Co now came over and was a welcome addition, for by now the Japs were putting heavy pressure on my right. We soon determined that the enemy was defending almost exclusively from the south (Myitkyina). We faced our whole line south with Item Co extending to the east. My right was now on the paddy with my left tied in with Item Co on the north-south trail. Item Co extended to the east 100 yards and bent back to tie in with Mike Co which guarded the rear of the perimeter. I had three men badly wounded. Among other things we were not provided with stretchers. I told my Executive Officer to call and have some sent over if available. After a short conversation, he said there were none at battalion and that we would have to construct stretchers from bamboo. This was done and the wounded carried back across the paddy, which was under constant Japanese sniper fire.
From my right platoon came a report of a Jap sniper that was making the right squad’s area untenable. This platoon was dug in in very thick jungle growth. Visibility was limited to a few yards. Every effort to locate him was fruitless. He had already hit two men. I had been checking the perimeter and was on my way to the CP when I was told that he got another. At the CP, my Executive Officer told me that the Battalion Commander ordered patrols sent out. As we were talking, a shell exploded near the edge of the paddy – not twenty yards from us. We took cover instantly, then a series of explosions raked the perimeter. Normally an artillery shell can be heard coming in. We had no warning that these were coming. The answer was obvious. The Japs were firing a field piece from such an extremely short range that the shells exploded before the sound of the muzzle blast reached us. The soldiers immediately named it ‘Whistling Willie’. It was not a very appropriate name because it didn’t whistle or make any other noise until the explosion. When the firing, which had only lasted a few seconds stopped, I asked the lieutenant if there was anything special that the Colonel wanted the patrols to do. He said that no mention was made of any specific mission, just send out patrols.
As we were talking, the phone rang. The 3d Platoon reported another man hit by the same sniper. The phone rang again. It was the S-3. The Colonel wanted to know if the patrols had gone out. I asked him what the patrols ware supposed to do. If it was to locate the enemy, then there was no need for patrols. I could throw a rook and hit a Jap in almost any direction. He said the Colonel didn’t state any mission, just send out patrols. I called my platoons and assigned each a sector and told each of them to send out a patrol. Platoon Sgt Connery, of the 3d Platoon, sent word that he would lead a patrol but he would get that sniper first. This gallant old Sergeant (5 years Marine service, 10 years Regular Army carrying a submachine gun) walked boldly in the direction of the enemy. He had not taken five steps when he went down with a bullet through the heart. Shortly thereafter all platoons reported their patrols fired on almost immediately upon leaving the perimeter. The remainder of the day was spent in improving our positions and in stocking ammunition. For several hours this was accomplished by hand carry across the paddy. These kids ‘ran the gauntlet’, many times carrying mortar and small arms ammunition from the battalion supply point. Then a mule train was made available. Those were heavily loaded at battalion with ammunition and rations and then led across. This greatly alleviated the supply situation, but unfortunately the mules presented such a large target that at least one and sometimes two were lost on each trip.
To out down the casualties of men and animals crossing this field, our 81-MM mortars fired a smoke concentration along the edge of the paddy in an effort to blind the Jap snipers. This greatly aided the crossings. About the middle of the forenoon, the Artillery Liaison Officer, Capt McRae, introduced himself to me. He was attached from the Chinese artillery L Group. He was to direct the American battery of 75’s based at Radhapur. This battery had only 3 guns and seldom had any ammunition. After each attack, McRae would have a few rounds fired to register on the FPL and that’s all they could afford. They never had enough to support an attack and so we wisely saved what they did have for emergency fires on the FPL.
As dusk was gathering, the phone rang. The Battalion Commander ordered me to send a three-men patrol with an SCR-300 radio into the village of Sitapur which was on the northern edge of Myitkyina. They were to move out after dark, pass through the enemy lines, enter the village, and report every 20 minutes directly to battalion. This was an incredible order amounting to almost a death sentence for whoever was chosen. An analysis of this mission reveals its suicidal character. These men, besides carrying the essential weapons and equipment of war, were to take a 38-pound radio and proceed one mile behind Japanese lines into an enemy-held village and, furthermore, on a night mission where silence is paramount. They were then to open a 300 radio with its resulting noise every 20 minutes all during the night, then make their way back again through enemy lines and find their way into a 200 yards small perimeter. Aside from the extreme danger, their chances of obtaining any useful military information was practically nil. Needless to say, the patrol did not get very far. The enemy, always disagreeable about such things, soon convinced the patrol leader that the paths to Sitapur led but to the grave. After two futile attempts he withdrew back into the perimeter commenting audibly and quite profanely on the ancestry of certain leaders.
A favorite trick of the Japanese was to arouse our men into firing, especially their automatic weapons in an attempt to locate them, then to crawl forward an inch at a time and grenade them. Each night we stocked each foxhole with all available grenades and warned the men not to fire during the night except to stop an attack; instead to throw grenades at suspected enemy. This proved quite productive. Several mornings dead Japs were found close to the perimeter. It was the consensus of all officers in contact with the Japs that patrolling under existing conditions was stupid, wasteful of manpower and morale wearing with no compensating results. We knew where the enemy was, his approximate strength and weapons. Patrols could not obtain any information that we did not already knew. The enemy was trapped in the Myitkyina area without hope of reinforcements. The only sensible course to follow was to stockpile ammunition and attack until he was destroyed.br>
The next morning, the Battalion Commander again ordered patrols out. I determined to make them strong and to support them with mortars if necessary. I ordered each rifle platoon to send out a seven man patrol, gave each a definite sector, provided them with radios. I contacted the Heavy Weapons Company Commander and requested mortar support in case they got into trouble. The patrols moved out; shortly thereafter, they reported contact with the enemy. The patrol from the first platoon was evidently in trouble, I went over to the Heavy Weapons Company area. Capt Brubeck was talking over the radio. His 81-MM mortars were firing. The patrol was being fired on by two machine guns and the patrol leader was attempting to direct the mortar fire on these guns. They were not getting anywhere, claiming they could not see the burst in the brush. I asked him where they were. He replied, to the right of the trail and about 100 yards from the perimeter.
I walked down the trail, I heard firing but could not see anything. I continued on about 100 yards. Off to the right of the trail was a huge bomb crater. In it was the patrol deployed around the run. The leader was talking over the radio. The firing was from a position further on. I walked to the edge of the crater. One of the men looked up at me and said, ‘You better get down, Captain, there’s a machine gun behind you’. I jumped into the crater and instantly two guns opened fire, one from a position across the trail directly behind where I had been standing and the other from off to our left front. I attempted to locate these guns and could now understand the difficulty the patrol leader had encountered directing mortar fire from this position. The machine gun fire was skimming the top of the crater. It was very dangerous to chance more than a glimpse over the top. The surrounding area was covered with a thick undergrowth. The mortar bursts could not be seen. The firing to our front was from the patrol from the 2d Platoon which was in a fire-fight with a group of enemy about 25 yards south of the crater. I crawled toward them and directed the patrol leader to withdraw to the perimeter and I would cover him with the patrol in the crater. I crawled back to the crater, and after they had passed us, all crawling, I ordered the men with me to crawl back towards our lines. When the last man had moved out safely, I followed, by now pretty well fed up with the stupid patrolling.
Shortly after noon, I noticed a curious activity on the other side of the paddy. About 50 yards out from the bank were four men who appeared to be walking double sentry duty. They were walking back and forth as if on guard. I asked my Executive Officer what they could possibly be doing other than trying to commit suicide. He studied them a while and said, ‘Beat’s me’. I told him to call battalion and find out. By this time, I was prepared for almost anything emanating from the Battalion CP, but this was a classic. The Battalion Commander himself was going to cross the paddy to join his battalion that had been fighting alone for a day and a half; that is, he would cross under certain conditions. The day before, when the snipers were so active, was not the time, even though the passage was made many times by privates carrying ammunition over and wounded back. This morning had been quiet as far as sniping was concerned, probably because of the patrolling. Still, anything so indispensable could not take chances. To make sure, he ordered these men to move out into the paddy to act as a decoy. They went back and forth to see if they would draw fire. The unpredictable Japs did not fire. Reassured, he loaded two mules with his personal equipment. These formed part of the next train to cross. The mortars fired the usual smoke concentration and the train started out. They reached the middle of the paddy when they were brought under fire from the same area as the day before. On this trip two mules were lost, but they were carrying ammunition. The first shot changed the Colonel’s march table. He made a quick estimate of the situation and decided he was more valuable with the home guard.
The remainder of the day was uneventful. Firing was spasmodic around the perimeter. Whistling Willies paid his respects a few times and, of course, the snipers fired on anything that crossed the paddy. The night was quiet save for the usual grenades and harassing mortar fire. The next afternoon, July 29, Capt Brubeck, the Heavy Weapons Company Commander, got a call from battalion. He was ordered to attack with the forces across the paddy, less Love Co, which was on outpost duty to the north. The three Company Commanders got together and determined on a plan. The terrain and size of our force ruled out any maneuver. We decided to attack straight south with our right on the paddy. Mortars of the Heavy Weapons Company and the 60’s in the Rifle Companies would support the attack. We Jumped off and from the start the going was very slow. The jungle growth in front of my company was so dense, visibility was limited to a few yards. The terrain in front of Item Co was more open, more in the nature of hedgerows but almost as hard to traverse. The Japs would not back up a yard. It was necessary to kill each one individually and to grenade every dugout or opening that might possible house a Jap. I made my way over to my left platoon whose left flank was on the trail, the boundary between Item and King Companies. The aggressive Capt Brubeck was there, personally directing the fire of his heavy machine gunners who were trying to knock out some enemy across the trail who were delaying the advance. The guns were right on the front line. I made my way along the line to my right platoon. They were stopped by a solid wall of interwoven jungle growth 8 feet high, broken only by one opening and only large enough to admit one man at a time. On the enemy side was Sgt Jasinsky, leader of the second squad, and one of his men engaged in a fire-fight with an enemy just a few yards to the front. On our side of the wall, Lt Meade, my weapons platoon leader, was removing a mortar tube from the base plate. He suggested pulling Jasinsky back and let him drop a few on the Nips.
I told Jasinsky and the other man to pull back. He began to crawl back and then jumped up to dash through the opening. As he did so, a grenade came hurtling towards him. The man with him screamed, ‘Down’. Jasinsky hit the ground the instant the grenade exploded. He was not hurt and both men managed to make their way back. I noted from where the grenade came and Lt Meade began firing and brought the shells progressively closer until they were exploding less than twenty yards to our front and on the spot where we were certain the Japs were. Capt Brubeck came up as this was going on and after Meade had fired a few rounds, Brubeck said, ‘Let’s get the ‘Son of a Bitch’ and we rushed through the opening and in on top of the Japs, killing three not ten yards beyond the hedge wall. The men now came pouring through, fanning out to the right and left forming a skirmish line. I could see only part of the line because of the heavy growth. I directed the men to put a fresh clip in their weapons, keep contact to right and left, and fire straight to the front as we went forward and to fire into any opening or clump of brush or anything that could conceivably hide a Jap.
We went forward with marching fire, shooting up every clump, raking every tree, and grenading every hole. We made good progress, halting several times to replenish ammunition. We reached our objective line about an hour before dark. I halted the company to regain control and to determine the exact location of the unit on my left, to insure that we were still in contact. My radio operator said that the Battalion Commander wished to speak to me. He asked me how things were going. I replied that we had reached our objective and were preparing to organize a defense. He screamed, ‘Keep going, keep going, gain as much as you can’. Completely ignoring the fact that we had only about one hour of daylight left. A few moments later, Capt Brubeck came over. I remarked that we had reached the designated line but that the Battalion Commander had ordered the attack to continue. He expressed his opinion, quite emphatically, and then said, ‘well, I guess we better keep going’. From that point on we ran into serious opposition. We kept driving forward through the tangled growth. My third platoon, under Lt Rowe, was next to the paddy field. A thick hedgerow now separated his platoon from the rest of the company. I could not see him but kept him abreast of the company by verbal directions. We came to a trail running perpendicular to our line of advance. One side was bordered by an old bamboo fence. I kicked a section of it down and proceeded on through in a small clearing with thick, tall jungle growth on all sides. Behind me was Pvt Cooper and several others were on their way through the fence.
Two machine guns opened fire, one from my right front from a position near the paddy field, the other from my left front. The first burst struck Cooper who was a few yards behind me. He said quietly, ‘I’m hit’. I looked back. He was lying on his back. I asked him where he was hit and he answered, ‘In the leg’. That didn’t sound very serious to me. I directed a soldier who was a few feet from Cooper to crawl over and help him. Lt Meade, my Weapons Platoon Leader, came up to the fence and said, ‘It’s getting dark. What are we going to do?’ I said, ‘We’ll dig in along that trail and tie in with Item Co’. The soldier who was attempting to aid Cooper remarked that he couldn’t get Cooper’s uniform off. I tossed him my trench knife and told him to cut it off. Then one of our aid men, Pfc Sheppard, came running up and took charge of Cooper. I walked over to where they were working and for the first time realized the seriousness of his wound. The burst had torn a gap in his thigh, cutting an artery. He bled profusely. I ordered two soldiers to out some bamboo and make a litter. Sgt Jasinsky came up and when Sheppard had applied a tourniquet he helped carry him back beyond the trail and into the perimeter. Sheppard gave him a bottle of plasma, the last he had, but it was too late. Cooper was dead. From the time he was hit until he was carried back was less than ten minutes.
No single event of the whole eight days of battle have I regretted more than the death of this one man. His death can be attributed to two causes. First, his quiet courage completely deceived me into thinking his wound was not serious. He didn’t scream for a medic or beg for someone to do something quickly; never excited or hysterical as many soldiers are when they see their life blood running away. He seemed to realize that the soldier who was helping him was doing the best he could. He simply and quietly said, ‘I’m hit’ and when asked where, said, ‘In the leg’. He never spoke another word. The second reason was the lack of first aid training among these men. In my concern for the safety of ny company with night coming on and in close contact with the enemy, I lost sight of the probability that the soldier I directed to help Cooper might not know what to do. He tried and did the best he could, but while he fumbled, Cooper was bleeding to death.
This young soldier, Pfc Harold R. Sheppard (asn 34356314) Medical Detachment, 5307th Composite Unit (Prov.) – Merrill’s Marauders (Burma, 1944 (Walawbum – Nhpum Ga – Myitkyina), Aid Man (King Co, 2nd Battalion – Green Combat Team), about 18 years old, was extraordinarily brave, and was possessed of an intense devotion to duty. For six days, he attended to the wounded under any and all conditions, with complete disregard for his own safety. On August 1, 1944, he was severely wounded while attending a stricken soldier. He received the Silver Star for gallantry.
As Cooper was being carried into the perimeter, a soldier came up to me and said, ‘They got Rowe’. I asked, ‘Is he dead?’ He said, ‘Yes’. I directed a soldier to help Sheppard give a blood plasma to Cooper, then walked over to check our tie-in with Item Co. The men were still digging their foxholes, I was walking back towards the place where they were working on Cooper when this same soldier came up to me again and said, ‘What are we going to do about Lt Rowe?’ I said, ‘Where is he?’ He pointed towards the enemy and said, ‘Out there’. He said Rowe had been killed at the farthest point of our advance. He evidently was abreast of me when the machine guns opened fire and, like Cooper, was probably hit by the first few rounds. I said, ‘OK, we’ll get him’. I was not enthusiastic about going out for him. The Japanese usually fired their machine guns ‘right down the alley’; that is, without traversing or searching. I knew that anyone going near Rowe was flirting with the same fate. I called Lt Meade and one of his light machine gunners. I instructed the gunner, upon signal, to fire into a suspected area and for Meade to have one of his mortars fire into another suspected area. I was carrying a submachine gun which was heavy and clumsy, so I exchanged it for a carbine and was ready to go out when the platoon sergeant came up and said, ‘I’ll go out with you, Capt’, I said, ‘OK’. I gave the signal to fire and we went out. Rowe was lying face down, near the edge of the paddy field.
Next to him, face down, was another soldier Pvt Garcia. Both were dead. Rowe was a large man. It was all we could do to drag him back, making sure to bring the M-1 he was armed with back too. As we were carrying him into the perimeter, someone remarked that Garcia was out there too. Lt Meade ran out and as Garcia was a small man, he was able to drag him back. I had three seriously wounded men who had not yet been evacuated. It was nearly dark. I called the Battalion CP to send up some men to take them back as I could not spare that many men from the perimeter. I was told to leave them until morning; that no one could go up there during darkness. I directed that three deep holes be dug large enough for a man lying down. Put brush and grass in the bottom, wrap the men in shelter halves, and place them in the holes for protection against the inevitable mortar fire. I used my own and two other officers’ shelter halves, to put a cover over the holes to help ward off the rain, and then dug a drainage ditch around each hole. Before we finished, complete darkness had descended. Lt Lane, my Executive Officer, then dug a hole for ourselves. All during the night the rain came down in torrents and ae we had no cover, we spent a disagreeable night, made more so by the groans of the wounded who were next to us. Early next morning, July 30, we evacuated the wounded and dead.
