War Trash Read online

  We stayed put for several days and didn’t go farther into enemy-occupied territory. A week later when the second stage of the offensive started, most of the Chinese and the North Korean troops swerved east to attack the South Korean army. Our division’s task was to wedge ourselves between the American and the South Korean forces, specifically to prevent the U.S. First Marine and Seventh Divisions from moving east to reinforce the South Koreans. We occupied the hills south of the Han River, whose water wasn’t deep in spite of its swift current, and thanks to the favorable terrain we held our position for five days. The two American divisions didn’t break our defense line, though they were superior in both firepower and number.

  By now, most of the Chinese and North Korean field armies were thrust deep inside enemy-occupied territory; some had pushed forward seventy miles south of the Thirty-eighth Parallel. Then the order came for all units to stop attacking. Obviously the operation had gone awry. The truth was that our field armies had advanced so fast and so deep that our supply lines had crumbled. Apart from the logistical disaster, our men on the front had suffered heavy casualties. The enemy had adopted “magnet tactics”—whether we attacked or retreated, they would always remain close enough to inflict casualties on our forces. This time they dragged our troops deep into South Korea, cut their connections with the echelons, isolated and encircled them, and tried to annihilate them. Apparently the enemy had gained the upper hand, so the Headquarters of the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army had to call off the offensive. Most of the line officers had no idea of the situation, and some even assumed we had won a victory. I came to know of the truth because I often served as a secretary at the meetings at which our divisional leaders discussed plans of action.

  A few days later the Americans launched an all-out counterattack. Their artillery shells and aerial bombs landed on the hills defended by our division, loosening the dirt and cutting down trees, some of which burst into flames. Despite not knowing what to do or where to go, we held our line and fought back the enemy’s advances again and again. Not until the afternoon of May 22 did we receive orders to move north, cross the Han River, and build a defense along its north bank. Immediately we began to retreat. But that same evening another telegram came, ordering us not to cross the river, and instead to set up a defense line on the south shore and hold it for four days to cover thousands of wounded men being shipped back from the front. This was easier said than done. We had no food left, and our right flank would be exposed—the Sixty-third Army, which was supposed to cover it, had already retreated to the north of the river. How on earth could we fight in such disarray? The enemy saw our predicament, so they assembled more men, tanks, and artillery, and kept pursuing us.

  Under cover of darkness we managed to reach the designated position and established a defense south of the Han River. By now the enemy was closing in from three sides; in fact, we were the only division left on this side of the water. During the day we had fought back the enemy’s attacks, but we suffered staggering casualties. The report came that the First Battalion of the 538th Regiment had been wiped out by bombing raids, and that every one of the remaining units had been reduced to half its original size or even smaller. At the divisional headquarters the leaders argued whether we should retreat farther, crossing the river, or hold our current position. The latter course meant we would have to face annihilation the next day. But without orders from higher up, all the leaders could do was talk. They dared not make any decision on their own; as a result, the whole division was bogged down, giving the enemy time to seize a ford downstream.

  We managed to hold our line the following day. At night the order finally came to cross the Han River immediately and reorganize our defense on its northern side. Without access to any ford, the heads of our division just picked a crossing spot randomly. A platoon of sappers stretched three iron wires across the river. Gripping the wires, the troops entered the rushing current. Thanks to the recent rain, the water was swelling, much deeper than a month ago when we had crossed it charging south. At some places it reached our necks. Starved and exhausted by a whole day’s fighting, few of us could walk steadily, and some were washed away and drowned. Before half of our division reached the north bank, the enemy started shelling us. Then two planes appeared, dropping bombs and strafing the troops in the river. The explosions roiled the water, which was turning reddish with blood while people were screaming and scrambling. Many were tossed off the wires, drifting away, their arms thrashing the water until they were submerged. The crossing cost us more than six hundred casualties, among whom were the few girls in the Medical Battalion. Gone were the stretchers, together with the wounded. Gone was the cart loaded with food supplies for the divisional leaders—a gunnysack of rice, dozens of cans of meat and fish, two barrels of hardtack, a bag of spiced pork jerky, some twenty packs of cured tofu, a box of cigarettes. The newly appointed quartermaster got so furious that he threatened to shoot the cart driver, flashing his pistol at the poor man’s face.

  By the time we reached the north shore, the enemy had already occupied the high hills in that area. They came to attack us right away. We were still dripping wet, but without delay we began to build our defensive position along some ridges. The fighting that followed was fierce and more men were killed. Fortunately the hilly terrain prevented the enemy’s tanks from operating efficiently; otherwise they could have wiped us out right there, since we had left our artillery pieces on the south of the river and had no way to stop the tanks except by pitching the few Russian-made grenades still in our hands. Before abandoning their cannons, the soldiers had pulled the breech-blocks and dropped the sights into the river so that nobody could use the guns again. Some men would not shoot their draft animals, but afraid others might kill them for meat, they set them free. Some of the horses and mules wouldn’t go away and followed their former keepers to this shore.

  It was hot the next day. Hungry and thirsty, even many officers at the divisional headquarters collapsed. It was harder to endure thirst than hunger. The enemy saw this and blocked all the trails leading to streams. Commander Niu sent one of his bodyguards to fetch some water with a gas can and a bunch of canteens from a creek at the foot of a hill, but the man was shot dead before he could get there. So we gave up trying to obtain water. Tormented by hunger, some soldiers devoured whatever they could lay their hands on. Men from southern China even ate toads and snakes. Many died because they had eaten poisonous mushrooms or a kind of wild onion that had forked leaves and that would blacken your lips a few moments after you swallowed it. Moans and curses rose from every direction. Dead men were scattered here and there like bundles of rags, some still holding a grass root or a tree leaf or a sprouting twig between their lips.

  Toward evening we received two orders within the space of half an hour. The first one, as though our division were still intact, instructed our divisional staff together with two regiments to move west and occupy the mountain behind Maping Village; the other regiment was to go along a trail to Jiader Hill, which was opposite the mountain, facing the village, so that we could hit the enemy from both sides and cover the retreating field hospital charged with caring for thousands of wounded men. As soon as we received the order, our headquarters sent the 538th and 540th Regiments on their way to the village. But before the divisional staff could set out, another order arrived, calling for two of our regiments to march to Jiader Hill while the other one transported our division’s hundreds of wounded men to Maping Village, then proceeded to occupy the mountain behind it. The higher-ups emphasized that our task was to cover the field hospital until they had brought back all the wounded, and that the 179th Division would cover our rear once we got there. By now one South Korean and two American divisions had caught up with us, and some of their units were encircling us from our right flank. Perplexed, Commissar Pei argued with Commander Niu over which order to follow. They both sat on boulders behind a huge rock, smoking Great Production cigarettes with dazed faces.

  P
ei stressed that from now on we should take into account the actual situation when we executed orders from above. There were new developments every hour, and our superiors were too far away to see what we were facing. The commissar said, pointing northwest, “The truth is that if we don’t take that hill first, it’ll be difficult for us to retreat.”

  “You should trust the leaders and our brother division,” said Commander Niu.

  “This is more than a matter of trust,” Pei replied. “Our men’s lives are at stake now.”

  “The telegram says clearly that the 179th Division is on the mountain and will cover our line of retreat.”

  “Well, we can’t be sure of that.”

  “Rest assured, all right? We must follow the second order, which was meant to countermand the first one.”

  “But our division is already terribly understrength, down to a third of our normal capacity, no artillery, and almost out of ammunition. How can we possibly stop the enemy?”

  “I’m aware of that, Old Pei, but as officers we have to obey orders.”

  That silenced the commissar. So without further delay messengers were sent out to catch up with the troops already on their way west and to deliver the new order which demanded that the 538th and 540th Regiments turn southwest and set up a defense line on Jiader Hill and that the 539th Regiment carry the wounded to Maping Village and then proceed to occupy the mountain behind it. Strange to say, a part of the order was altered in the process of delivery, and the whole 539th Regiment was dispatched to Eagle Peak, a hill almost eight miles to the northeast! They were ambushed by the Americans and got smashed.

  Thus we lost the opportunity to seize the mountain behind Maping Village, which could have enabled us to retreat and save the remaining units. We had to trudge five extra miles of precipitous road to reach Jiader Hill, and this depleted our strength and delayed us in fighting our way out.

  At daybreak, when we had arrived at Jiader Hill, gunshots burst out on the slope beyond Maping Village. Bewildered, Commissar Pei and Commander Niu again had an exchange of words. Pei said, “The enemy is probably already on that mountain.”

  “Why can’t you trust our brother division?” Niu retorted. He looked like a withered old man now, his puckered face covered with dust, and his left arm hung in a bloody sling.

  I happened to be present, so Pei turned to me with a smile. “What do you think we should do, Comrade Yu Yuan?”

  I was taken aback because I was merely a clerical officer. I ventured, “Maybe we should send some men to reconnoiter.”

  So they dispatched a squad led by the commander of the reconnaissance company to the mountain. Hardly five minutes after the men had left, artillery shells thundered and threw up dust clouds in Maping Village. Now, obviously the brother division wasn’t there; the mountain was already in the enemy’s hands! (Later we learned that the 179th Division had sent a regiment to our rescue, but they were blocked and reduced to four platoons by the Americans.) We were entirely isolated now, forty miles away from the nearest brother unit. Within an hour the enemy took Maping and the nearby villages; in addition, they had already occupied all the hills in that area. With little ammunition and only three thousand men left, we were totally trapped. The South Korean Second Division was approaching us from the front.

  More devastating was that since the previous evening we had lost radio contact with both the headquarters of our Sixtieth Field Army and that of the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army. Commander Niu held an emergency meeting, which most of the regimental leaders attended. After briefing them about the situation, he said, “We must decide what to do now—fight our way out or hold our line to wait for reinforcements.”

  While the meeting was going on, artillery shells exploded around the headquarters, which was just a shallow pit behind a low wall built of brownish rocks and mud, probably for shepherds to shelter themselves from wind. Pebbles, clods, and rock chippings, tossed up by the explosions, pelted down. Projectiles were zinging all about, followed by shock waves. The enemy was visible in both the south and the east, while some American troops were reported to be closing in from the north. A guard at the site of the meeting was even killed by sniper fire. Slapping his knee, Commissar Pei said hoarsely, “One lesson we’ve learned these days is that we didn’t lose that many men in actual fighting, most of the casualties were inflicted by artillery. If we stay here, we’ll be pounded to powder. Besides, we’re out of ammunition. How can we defend our position? Who knows if there’re any reinforcements coming to us at all? We must fight our way out!”

  Following him, the other officers argued that in addition to artillery, the enemy had air support and always fought a battle on two dimensions—on the ground and from the air. If we stuck to one spot, we’d play right into their hands. We had no alternative but to break out of the encirclement. Hao Chaolin, the division’s artillery director, who was without a single gun under his command now, said, “Commander Niu, please give orders! We can’t let the enemy continue wasting our men like this. These troops are the last ones our division has!” A large mole kept moving near the edge of Chaolin’s left eye as he spoke.

  Niu declared, “Get ready to fight our way out! The operational staff will request approval from our army’s headquarters immediately. We’ll set out the minute we get permission.”

  Fortunately radio contact was reestablished, but we waited three hours for a response from above, which didn’t come until after five p.m. Permission was granted. The telegram ordered us to reach Eagle Peak, in the northeast, and stated that our army was regrouping beyond Maping Village. The higher-ups seemed in confusion too—the message didn’t make sense, the two places were in opposite directions. Nevertheless, we started out northeast at six o’clock.

  To reach Eagle Peak we had to pass a deep valley, about two miles long. The 538th Regiment marched at the front; behind them was the divisional staff, followed by the 540th Regiment. More than two thousand men crowded into this valley; it was difficult to maneuver, and we could only go forward. In no time the troops were in disorder. Some men straggled behind and slipped away into the woods and bushes. Who could blame them? The whole division hadn’t eaten a single meal for four days, so whenever possible, the men would step aside to look for things to eat. Sometimes they picked up a bag of roasted soybeans dropped by a kitchen cart, or took handfuls of parched flour from a tubed sack still strapped across a dead man’s chest. Occasionally they chanced on a bag of rice left behind by the South Korean army. Having no time to cook, they just munched the grains raw. We were all like hungry ghosts, fearful but unable to stop wandering around. During the forced march, many men couldn’t keep pace and dropped behind. Some new soldiers would fall to their knees or lie down whenever shells exploded nearby. A large number of the recruits from the former Nationalist army deserted. One of them not only defied orders but also fired at the deputy commander of the 540th Regiment, who was seriously wounded in the head and later died in the POW hospital.

  Several times the troops at the front were hit by enemy artillery, and again we suffered heavy casualties. At sunrise, when we finally reached the west side of Eagle Peak, there were only thirteen hundred men left, and the enemy had already occupied all the heights in that area. The leaders of the 538th Regiment organized an assault unit, composed of about fifty Party members, many of whom were junior officers. They set out in the triangular formation—“three as a group like an arrowhead”—and took the main hilltop from the enemy, so we had a foothold for the time being. But they were overwhelmed by the enemy’s counterattack in the afternoon and lost the position. This meant that our attempt to break out of the encirclement had failed.

  At dusk we heard by radio from our Sixtieth Army’s headquarters again. Commander Hong ordered us to head northwest for Shichang, a village, to meet with some brother units already on the move to our rescue. For hours our men had been searching for things to eat on the mountain. When the officers finally assembled them, there were about four hundred men le
ft. They were organized into three companies, and together we started out for Shichang. The divisional leaders were so exhausted, so weakened, that their bodyguards had to support them on the way. I limped behind them; my heart was filled with fear, so heavy, as if jammed with lead. Never had I thought that the war could be so chaotic and so bloody.

  In fact, we were now walking back the way we had come. According to the map Shichang was about fifteen miles away, but because of fatigue and artillery attacks we covered only ten miles over the course of a whole night, during which the earth seemed to shake under my feet. At some spots, the soil had been loosened so much by heavy bombardment that the dirt reached our ankles when we walked through it. The next morning, as we were about to enter the valley we had passed the night before, suddenly a voice came from down the slope to the right. “Commissar Pei, Commissar Pei, take me with you please!”