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1 What History Failed to Record -A Phantom Force- East: of the Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir? About the author: Ray C, Vallowe He served with the 1st Calvary Division 7th Regiment, ―B‖ Troop at Camp Drake outside Tokyo Japan between November and June of 1948-1949. This time trained as infantry. He was transferred to the 7th Infantry Division––Headquarters Battery 31st Field Artillery Battalion, (155mm) at Camp Youngham‘s Sendi Japan in June of 1949. He was assigned to the Wire Section Communications of the Battalion. In August of he was transferred to the Headquarters Battery 57th Field Artillery Battalion (105mm) –– again assigned to the Wire Section Communications of the Battalion. Now to unite with the 31st Infantry Regiment at Camp Crawford on the Northern Island of Hokkaido, Japan. Now a Corporal he was in place to be involved with the relocation of the 31st RCT for action in both amphibious landings in North and South Korea. Photo credits: Joseph M. Vallowe Book cover; Daniel L. Vallowe © Copyright 2015 by Ray Vallowe 2 Author & Wife Newly engaged-May 1, 1952 Dedication: To my wife-the eternal love of my life: Elaine Rose Vallowe Nee; Postelanczyk 4/27/1932-12/22/2010 For our 58 plus years; of married life: always together. For stabilizing my life after combat, and enduring the sudden jolts of my earlier nighttime nightmares. For her undying love and devotion through sudden chills from my cold hands and feet without complaint! For our children Susan Marie (9/6/53-deceased-12/6/1956) Our three sons David, Joseph and Daniel And last: (eight years later) but not least Mary Rose, in their order. Between the above picture and the picture below, many years have passed with some tears of sadness over shadowed by those of many more of joyful and happy ones’ The privilege of raising a family together would never have been possible had I never survived the disaster at the Changjin (Chosin) Reservoir. 3 That survival was through no individual merit of my own, but through efforts made by all, some that survived by the merits of one or more of those 900+ KIA/MIA’s over five days at the reservoir The guilt always remaining that you survived and they did not, cannot be calculated that some of them may have been more worthy than you to survive, remain in your thoughts always. But that was not your individual call, rather a higher power diverting that missile that may have been within an enemy rifle to end your life as well. However, to neglect the cause as to that failure at the reservoir-corrupted to ―reinforce the failure‖ is inexcusable. Therefore, this dedication must also extend to those that were ―Sacrificed‖ East of the reservoir as well. Perhaps just perhaps there may have been a change of doctrine over war tactics had many of those officer’s, NCO’s and the common Soldier survived. April 2010: Eight Months before I lost my wife to cancer. 4 -- What History Failed to Record -- Of Mountains and Monuments and Men WE IN AMERICA DO NOT BUILD MONUMENTS TO WAR; WE DO NOT BUILD MONUMENTS TO CONQUEST; WE BUILD MONUMENTS TO COMMEMORATE THE SPIRIT OF SACRIFICE IN WAR—REMINDERS OF OUR DESIRE FOR PEACE. President Franklin D. Roosevelt St. Louis, Soldiers Memorial Dedication October 14, 1936 -Prologue- Of Monuments and Men Throughout the ages of mankind, many monuments have been erected throughout the world; only one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World still remains from those days of old: Egypt‘s famous Great Pyramid of Khufu, some 450 feet in height. It was the tallest manmade structure for two millennia. However, one of the highest monuments of recent times is known as The Gateway to the West. That St. Louis Arch built on the western banks of the Mississippi River, its height being 630 feet. It therefore surpasses that height of the Great Pyramid. This Arch was originally scheduled to begin construction in early 1933, sometime before my third birthday. Had it been finished before 1943, I would have matured into my teen age years under its shadow, as the sun would set in the west. Being born at home—with the help of a mid-wife—in East St. Louis, Illinois, I was an only child, of a single mother; no brothers or sisters. Born in this deteriorating city, where today the schools and church I attended and both homes I had lived in are long gone, now only vacant lots remain. I had spent many hours on the Illinois side of this river bank. Today the shadow of a gaming boat, the Casino Queen, shades the spot where as a young boy and with connecting memories of the Korean War and the Second World War, I return in those memories to this river bank. Many of my early days were completed along this river bank with the help and inventive genius of the fishermen of those days erecting nets of all kinds, most left unattended for days. Tripods set into the water‘s edge to support a square fish net, sometimes four feet square, with pulleys connected to ropes and crank drums on this bank. Many of us would help ourselves to the use of these idle nets, lowering them and catching many, many fish—mostly carp and, rarely, a few buffalo—these to clean, eat, or sell. A proverbial problem child from a fatherless family, I have vivid memories of horse-drawn wagons in the 1940‘s and the scrap-man with his call, ―Rags and Iron, buying rags and iron,‖ while patrolling the many alleyways. Those disgusting uses of the two seated out-house adjoining a coal shed. A depression- era baby, born in October of the first year of the thirties, I also recall collecting commodities from various government supply houses to the immediate entry into World War II. Much has changed since the Sunday of December 7th 1941, and to the 31st Infantry Regiment—on the island 5 of Bataan in the Philippines—, one that I would be connected to and through in upcoming military history. The numerous scrap drives, the ration books, also remembering the creation of Oleo, that white lard substitute for butter, adding a red dye pill, to be kneaded into the body of that white substance, would produce the yellow appealing color of butter. My early days of walking next to the set of double railroad tracks, and that endless moving of war materials, both eastward and westward. My days of collecting letters from the onboard military troops as their trains stopped for traffic or switching of other trains, of mailing those letters for them at the nearest mail box on my way to school. Those troop trains being pulled by those mighty and massive giant locomotives of that day, coal-fired, spewing dense black smoke dust and ash, settling downward to earth. Rattling, and shaking the furniture in our three-room house next to those railroad tracks. My days of old in following those railroad tracks, collecting the coal off-fall, along the tracks for home use. This coal continuously falling from the coal tender car as the fireman transferred it from the tender car into the locomotive furnace. My many days of following the railroad tracks back to the Mississippi riverfront. The locomotives roundhouse and other switching junctions, connected to many places unknown to me, but for those troops aboard the vital link to far, far destinations from which far too many of these troops would never return, from Europe, and the Far East. Many of these memories would connect to my upcoming life experience connected to the Korean War; mainly the water and the railroad track around a bitter cold place in North Korea called the Changjin [Chosin]1 Reservoir. Shortly after the Second World War was over, I started working in a poultry house, at age fifteen; I was killing and gutting chickens. At sixteen—blowing off school—I was employed at Bemis Brothers Bag Co. in St. Louis stocking and supplying women seamstress with various vegetable and feed bags to be sewn on the edges and turned inside out. Restless at seventeen and a half, I encouraged my mother to let me join the army. On 20 July 1948, I enlisted for three years in the United States Army. I completed my basic training at Fort Knox, Kentucky. I selected duty with the 1st Cavalry Division in Tokyo Japan, and arrived in Japan on 9 November 1948. But I had learned an ever-changing fact about the Army: its continuous changes to our military uniforms and staff ranking systems. For example, I went into basic training with the lowest rank of a Private, and was caught in a major change in ranking, I came out a Recruit. It would take another six months to get back to the rank I went into service with! The military budget reductions were at work after the war, and our ranks had to be reduced to save money. The new rank of Recruit, a shift down from the Staff Sergeant [four stripes], he would now be referred to as a mere Sergeant and the rank below him, the old three stripe Buck (Staff) Sergeant was eliminated. The rank of Corporal now moved up into that vacant slot of the old Buck Sergeant, cheating me of that coveted third stripe. For some reason, during the Second World War I was more fascinated by the fighting in the Pacific than in Europe. Perhaps, as I state later, this was because it was the first blood of America‘s involvement in that war.

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