Randy Rabenold and the Bulldogs Who Went to War Part ONE
Randy Rabenold and the Bulldogs Who Went to War Part THREE
Memorial Day May 2013 Tribute to Rabenold and the Bulldogs
The Trench Art of Randy Rabenold - (Companion Post to Bulldogs Part 1)
Randy Rabenold and the Bulldogs Who Went to War Part THREE
Memorial Day May 2013 Tribute to Rabenold and the Bulldogs
The Trench Art of Randy Rabenold - (Companion Post to Bulldogs Part 1)
Part 2 of 3: Randy Rabenold and five classmates join the Marines in the peacetime of June 1948. They were known as the “Bulldogs,” an informal though closely knit group of friends from the rural west end of Lehighton. By August of 1950, Dick Carrigan, Ray “Nuny” Rabenold, Don “Duke” Blauch, William “Bill” Kuhla, Robert “Bobby” Kipp, and Randy are all fighting in Korea. All but one will return home safely.
Randy Rabenold on a warm day in Korea.
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| Howard Manross was a member of the Brigade Band. He along with his mates played for South Korean President Sygnman Rhee in Korea at the "Bean Patch." (Photo courtesy of Tom Fortson) |
Joining in peacetime, none of the Bulldogs gave a conscious
thought to the danger their service could deliver their way. After a few short months, an unprepared U.S.
army was nearly tipping backward into the Sea of Japan pushed by the aggressor
Communist forces pressing from north of the 38th parallel.
The “First Provisional Marine Brigade” was put
together in haste in July to relieve the badgered U.S. Eighth Army. They reached Korea on 2 August. Randy lands at Pusan, the last foothold in
the south east of the peninsula. He
could hear small arms fire in the surrounding hills as he and the “infantry
went straight into combat off the gangplank.”
It wasn’t easy for the “new boots” in Korea to get
used to the mortar fire and the occasional sniper’s bullet that sent them into roadside
ditches.
One day his patrol drew the ire of a broad-chested
colonel admonishing them with, “You call yourselves Marines, get up and march!” That order was barked by the legendary Lewis
“Chesty” Puller, fast becoming a Marine Corps icon later rising to the rank of
general.
During the month of August, Randy and the rest of
the Headquarters and Service Battalion moved toward Masan and were in support
of the battle at the Naktong River. At
one point, Randy remembers traveling by rail from Pusan toward Masan on open
rail-cars.
Unknown to members of the Division, preparations were
under way for “Operation Chromite,” code name for the Inchon Landing. The Eighth Army was out of fighting room. It was only MacArthur’s logistical
masterstroke that saved the U.S. forces from complete collapse. The entire operation was pulled together,
from planning to implementation, in three weeks.
 |
| From Marine Corps Gazette - July 1951 - You can see the Pusan Perimeter in a gray arrow encircling the Eighth Army's movement in the southeast corner of the peninsula as the Inchon Invasion in the northwest below Seoul allowed the Eighth Army enough room to strike out and press against the North Korean aggressors. |
The military urgency was two-fold: With the Eighth
Army near defeat, a landing in country, across the peninsula below Seoul was
chosen not only as a way to relieve pressure the Communists were applying to
the Pusan Perimeter, but also for the element of surprise.
In early September, while Randy and the rest of the
First Provisional were holding off the communists on the perimeter, the organic
elements of the First Marine Division began arriving at Kobe Japan. By 8 September, the First Provisional began
to embark onto the ships of “Task Force 90” for the yet to be disclosed to them
mission of the Inchon landing.
Inchon Bay on the Yellow Sea has the second greatest
tidal range in the world at thirty-two feet.
(According to Randy, there are only a handful of places with a greater
range than this. The greatest one being the
Bay of Fundy near Maine.)
At best they had a brief three hour period for the
landing. There were only three dates in
which the tide would be high enough to afford the necessary depth for our
ships: 15 and 27 September and 11 October.
 |
| Low tide at Inchon Bay - Inchon has one of the greatest tidal ranges in the world at 32 feet, making the amphibious assault there particularly troublesome. (Photo from Marine Corps Gazette - July 1951.) |
On 13 September, the First Provisional ceased to
exist. Its control reverted back to the First
Marine Division. Randy’s Headquarters and
Service Battalion transferred to First Division Headquarters Battalion.
Most of the Bulldogs were once again together under
the overall command of Major General Olivier P. Smith. Later, the Brigade Band would be split in
two: one staying with General Smith’s command post and the rest with divisional
commander General Edward A. Craig’s command post up at the constantly shifting
and amorphous front line.
Complicating the already tenuous plans, two typhoons
hit the area between 8 September and the launch, D-day 15 September. Bobby Kipp, Don Blauch and Tom Fortson were
part of the Division arriving from the states.
Blauch remembers how Typhoon “Jane” knocked their landing crafts over on
the beaches at Kobe while they were making preparations.
The Marines, now at sea and under the command of
Admiral Struble, loaded and launched as “Task Force 90” with 260 vessels. (Some sources use the number 290
vessels. The conflicting data is due to
the inconsistencies of sometimes counting the LSTs carried aboard the transport
ships.)
 |
| Members of the First Marine Division get briefed on the assault on Wolmi-do leading to the Inchon landing. (Marine Corps Gazette, July 1951.) |
Randy’s battalion embarked from Pusan while Kipp, Blauch
and Fortson arrived from Kobe, by way of the Sea of Japan on their way to the eastern
side of the peninsula in the Yellow Sea.
Typhoon “Kesia” occurred while en-route, inflicting
more damage on our fleet and men than the enemy eventually did upon landing. The heavy rolling seas caused much
seasickness with one transport losing a few of its landing craft.
Because the size of the landing area was rather constrained and with the small three hour tide window, the ships had to be loaded
beyond their effective weight capacities which lowered their draft in the water. This caused Blauch’s LST to hang up on a
muddy sandbar.
On the first wave of men ashore and landing out too far, Blauch had to
wade ashore with over eighty pounds of gear and weapons. Much like the United Nations efforts to this
point, Blauch was literally up to his neck in water.
“The minute your legs swing over the edge and into
the cargo nets, you know you are in for it but you don’t know what its going to
be.” Seasick and nearly drowning, “was
no way to start a day of battle,” Blauch said.
These are the moments for which the U.S. Marine Corps
trains: beginning with an amphibious landing, then on to seek and destroy.
“They never expected us there,” said Blauch. He was right.
The enemy resistance was far less than they expected, allowing the
Marines to charge out ahead of their plan of attack and dangerously ahead of
their supply lines too.
Taking Kimpo Airfield was priority number one. It was sixteen road miles inland and was
secured within fifty hours of the landing while elements of the Division were
advancing to the Han River and onto Seoul.
Randy was among the “second wave” on 16 September, mainly facilitating at the supply dumps and
setting up General Smith’s subsequent command posts as they advanced toward
Kimpo. They were told they could expect
to get killed, as the enemy was known to be dug in there and at least at one
point, they did take a lot of enemy mortar and tank fire at the command post.
He remembers first landing on the island of
Wolmi-do, a Korean resort island that guarded the entrance to the bay at Inchon. Upon landing, the only enemy encounter he
remembers seeing were “about fifty North Korean’s held under the gun” of his
fellow Marines in a drained-out swimming pool.
Meanwhile, ANGLICO Don Blauch was forward calling in
air-strikes to the carriers on enemy movements and positions. He picked
landmarks out for the pilots to guide them into their coordinates.
 |
| Don "Duke" Blauch's radio communications certificate. As a forward observer, Blauch was routinely ahead and in the line of enemy fire. |
Much to their chagrin and disturbing their peace of mind, the pilots periodically had to trade the relative safety of the air to rotate to the
ground to serve alongside the forward air observers like
Blauch. As a result, Blauch developed a
few close friendships that would pay dividends later.
Sometimes the enemy used fugitives and children as
shields to the entrances of their caves and bunkers.
Blauch spoke from a place of necessity devoid of bravado when he said, “When it’s your butt or theirs on the line, you
take out their butt.” (Obviously Blanch didn’t
use the word “butt.”)
By 20 September, General MacArthur and South Korean
President Sygnman Rhee celebrated outside Seoul. This was near the time when MacArthur
prematurely predicted we’d be home by Christmas. One day around this time Rabenold distinctly
remembers MacArthur rolling by, replete with his corn-cob pipe, aviator glasses
and all.
On 21 September 1950, Bulldog Robert “Bobby” Kipp, part
of Second Battalion/First Division’s FOX Company lead position, had two enemy
tanks and a supply truck pass within the bounds of their position. Official reports state they were under
friendly fire for about two hours from the left and heavy artillery and mortar
fire from enemy on the right.
At about 1830 (6:30 PM) FOX was joined by DOG and
EASY companies for the night. The enemy,
entrenched on the high ground, caused the Marines to dig a defensive perimeter in and along the
road. They were north of the Han River
along Kalchon Creek.
 |
| Fall 1950 - Commanding Marine General O.P. Smith looking grim while pausing for a few silent moments over the temporary graves of his men in Korea. Robert "Bobby" Kipp's body returned to Lehighton seven months after his death in September 1950 in Korea. |
Kipp and his foxhole mate began digging, perhaps just a bit deeper than normal, prompted by the daytime firefight. It is not known when the radio jeep pulled in
next to their foxhole that night. But
the engine was let running all night filling Kipp’s trench with carbon
monoxide. Kipp was found unconscious. His foxhole-mate survived. Blauch later learned of his friend’s fate
from members of Kipp’s platoon.
 |
| Kipp's front page KIA article in the Lehighton Evening Leader from 4 October 1950. Official military reports list the day of his death as 21 September. Interesting if true that his parents last heard from him on the 21st. Even though they were driving the enemy north, one would assume perhaps he had time enough to jot one last letter. Don Duke Blauch was the last Bulldog to speak with Kipp while embarking across the Pacific that August (see Part 1). The contents the letter on the same day he died would be of interest. |
Randy remembers visiting the Kipps as soon as he returned home, their grief untouchable. He recalls them with a forgotten fondness, saying that Mrs. Kipp was the nicest woman he’d ever known.
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| Robert Kipp lies beside his parents at Lehighton Cemetery near the northeast corner near Iron Street. |
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| Bobby Kipp all smiles the Fall before his death. Kipp died September 21, 1951, not quite twenty years old. |
With the enemy on the run and Seoul reclaimed by 27
September, half of the First Battalion/First Division made a landing on the
east side of the peninsula in the Sea of Japan at Wosan. From there, they moved on up to Hungnam.
Half of those continued to push the communists
toward the Yalu River, the Chosin Reservoir and the border with China,
movements that would soon entice the Chinese to enter in full force. They cited their own national security for
their actions, since the reservoirs of North Korea were part of their
electrical power grid.
Randy Rabenold and his half of the battalion
remained to the rear with General Smith’s command post near Kimpo airfield, “a
dreary place surrounded by rice paddies.”
Sometime after the dust settled after the Inchon Invasion and before the action at Chosin Reservoir, the Brigade Band played perhaps for the only time while in Korea.
It was at the "Bean Patch," General Craig's command post, where the Brigade received South Korea's President Sygnman Rhee for a head of state visit.
The 'Bean Patch' was also the location of General Smith's memorable bonfire after the Chosin Reservoir. Having continuously worn the same clothing from the non-stop fighting from October through December, the Marines were issued complete new sets of clothing and were ordered to burn their old ones to prevent scurvy.
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| Known as the "Purple Heart Parade" at the Bean Patch in August 1950 in Masan Korea, 87 WIA Marines received their Purple Heart from Gen E.A. Craig while Korean President Rhee looked on. The band is at left and is from the opposite perspective as the photo below. |
It was at the "Bean Patch," General Craig's command post, where the Brigade received South Korea's President Sygnman Rhee for a head of state visit.
The 'Bean Patch' was also the location of General Smith's memorable bonfire after the Chosin Reservoir. Having continuously worn the same clothing from the non-stop fighting from October through December, the Marines were issued complete new sets of clothing and were ordered to burn their old ones to prevent scurvy.
 |
| The Bean Patch, General Craig's Command Post - President Rhee stands with arms folded next to saluting General Craig. It is the only time the band played as a unit while in Korea. (Fortson.) |
It is here, probably sometime near the end of
September or the beginning of October, that Randy learns his father Zach had died
on the 26th of August. He is
given leave and flies out of Kimpo on a two-engine propeller plane. Though it could’ve held up to thirty people, it was just Randy, one other GI and the flight crew.
They made a fuel stop at Midway Island and
He took a Greyhound Bus, taking a four-day cross-country
trip through Utah, Colorado, Missouri and Ohio.
Though thirty-days were considered a standard leave for family
bereavement, once home, many WWII vets told Randy “they probably won’t ship you
back.” “And besides,” they said,
“MacArthur promised you’d be home by Christmas.”
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| Randy Rabenold's dad Zach died 26 August 1950. |
Then came the telegram ordering him to report back
to Camp Pendleton for re-deployment. In
the time he was gone, the slaughter of what became known as the “Frozen Chosin”
had begun. Over 100,000 determined Chinese
who seemed impervious to the sub-twenty-below zero temperatures, came across
the Yalu River in force.
Despite having a superior line of supply, seemingly
endless munitions, heavy artillery and dominate air power support, the U.S.
struggled against these relatively spartan Chinese soldiers in canvas shoes and
jackets.
The cold caused a myriad of problems for our
servicemen. Carbines were freezing,
grenades wouldn’t detonate, mortar tubes couldn’t be re-positioned due to
freezing to the ground, and support from the howitzers back at
Hagaru-ri grossly under-fired due to the cold, raking friendly fire over our
own surprised men.
The standard issue gun oil froze the carbines and
the BARs. GI’s found the captured whale
oil used by the Chinese helped as well as urinating on their barrels to keep
the carbon from seizing their muzzles.
This being easier said than done under steady sniper fire.
C-rations froze solid. The only way to keep some of your corned beef
in near edible form was to keep a can under each armpit. Otherwise, most men could only eat the hard
candy in their packs, though eating the “Charms” was considered unlucky by the
Marines since WWII.
Frostbite was the biggest casualty culprit. To throw a grenade, one needed to take off
his bulky gloves. But skin instantly froze
to the metal, tearing off sheets of flesh.
The Marines developed the tactic of “warming tents,”
using 16-by-16 foot tents with a camp stove, set up within the bounds of their defensive
perimeters. Men could rotate through them when possible. According to Blauch though, “You
could fill up your canteen with piping hot coffee and it would be frozen solid
by the time you returned to your foxhole.”
The Navy corpsmen (or Medics in Army parlance) were
held in the highest regard by every Marine.
You may hear a Marine complain about everything from their grub to their
commanders, but you will be hard pressed to ever hear a Marine disparage these
men of staggering bravery. Sentiments
echoed by Fortson, Blauch and Rabenold.
They constantly carried morphine syrettes in their
mouths to keep a ready supply thawed.
They had to deal with plasma bags freezing solid and the Catch-22 of cutting
open the clothing of the wounded to treat a wound versus exposing the injured
flesh to frost bite.
But there were a few benefits to the cold: non-arterial
wounds nearly instantly congealed saving many from bleeding to death. And by the end of November, with so many dead
encircling the trapped forward elements of the Division, the bodies did not
smell of death.
The Chinese were masters at winning the battle of
the mind. On 29 November at precisely
2200 hours (10 PM), a Chinese officer on FOX Hill near the Reservoir began an
oratory over a loud speaker meant to dishearten our men, encouraging them to
save themselves from the impeding slaughter by surrendering.
Then Bing Crosby blared “White Christmas” followed
by a Chinese accented English song with the refrain, “Marines, tonight you
die.” Over the lower side of the hill,
behind the Chinese line, they lit a large fire to illuminate the skyline which allowed
our men to see the thongs of white quilt-coated Chinese servicemen, about to
mount their evening assault, silhouetted against the dark sky.
In the short month of November and into December, the
Chinese learned to attack at night, using their advantages of stealth and
overwhelming numbers to overcome the advantages of the Marines. Our high command had underestimated them, the
harden veterans of their five-year war against the Chinese Nationals.
They seemed to be everywhere, particularly at night. They also employed the cunning tactic of laying among the dead all day long, lulling unsuspected G.I.s to their deaths. Many a Marine witnessed "walking dead," hitherto fore "dead" soldiers getting up just in time to join their comrades for their routine evening assault.
They seemed to be everywhere, particularly at night. They also employed the cunning tactic of laying among the dead all day long, lulling unsuspected G.I.s to their deaths. Many a Marine witnessed "walking dead," hitherto fore "dead" soldiers getting up just in time to join their comrades for their routine evening assault.
Our average G.I. soon took them seriously. Word quickly spread that men had being
bayoneted in their sleep. Prompting many, despite the subzero temperatures, to sleep in their open foxholes with unzipped sleeping bags.
Their primitive bugle calls, drums and trumpets announcing their charges were particularly disheartening.
The Marines were caught in a surreal paradox: They
were an amphibious force accustomed to fighting on beaches but now battled over
solid, frozen, desolate earth.
 |
| John J Murphy and Gene Holland in May 1950 - Gussy-up Hollands car as part of getting ready for leave. The Korean Conflict was far off the RADAR then. |
It was under these extreme conditions that division
band mate "Gene" Holland was killed with several others wounded at this place
forever known as the “Frozen Chosin.”
The men who fought there too would forever be known as the “Frozen Chosen”
or “Chosen Few.”
PFC Francis Eugene "Gene" Holland was part Cherokee American Indian and a bandmate of Rabenold and Fortson. His friend Robert Wood said of him, "for the band he played trumpet but for the Marines" at Koto-ri, on the main supply road near Chosin, "he played light machine gun."
Dick Sharp said, "Gene and I trained as stretcher bearers, but upon our arrival in Japan, our MOS was changed to "0331," .30-cal machine guns. Gene was on my gun the night of December 6th or early on the 7th. It took me a long time to get over his death. I still correspond with his sister. A wonderful family and I still miss him. I got to visit his grave in California and it helped me to heal. I named my only son after him, Gene Holland Sharp."
He was reported killed on December 7th, 1950. He was the only bandsman, of anyone's knowledge, to have died in Korea.
Rabenold explained that gunners sometimes rotated with their ammo feeder and ammo carriers. Explaining Sharp's (Nicknamed "Not-so," as in "Not So Sharp" as he was affectionately chided by his band mates.) extra burden for his friend who died while on duty with his gun. Rabenold said there were times when he filled in on the gun while stationed at various outposts in Korea. In an attempt to draw expose enemy snipers, they would get orders to fire toward the approximate enemy positions in the hope they would return fire for spotters to pinpoint their nests.
PFC Francis Eugene "Gene" Holland was part Cherokee American Indian and a bandmate of Rabenold and Fortson. His friend Robert Wood said of him, "for the band he played trumpet but for the Marines" at Koto-ri, on the main supply road near Chosin, "he played light machine gun."
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| Gene Holland at Camp Pendleton in July 1950 outside the Band Barracks just before shipping out. Holland was a native of Eagle Rock, CA, a suburb of Los Angeles. |
Dick Sharp said, "Gene and I trained as stretcher bearers, but upon our arrival in Japan, our MOS was changed to "0331," .30-cal machine guns. Gene was on my gun the night of December 6th or early on the 7th. It took me a long time to get over his death. I still correspond with his sister. A wonderful family and I still miss him. I got to visit his grave in California and it helped me to heal. I named my only son after him, Gene Holland Sharp."
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| Dick Sharp (left) in Masan only one month after the death of dear friend Gene Holland, finding comfort with fellow bandmates, Tom Fortson and Fred Hartfiel on January 3, 1951. Sharp and Fortson celebrated their 21st birthdays in Masan on Christmas Eve albeit a somber one with memories of their fallen buddy Gene Holland. |
He was reported killed on December 7th, 1950. He was the only bandsman, of anyone's knowledge, to have died in Korea.
Rabenold explained that gunners sometimes rotated with their ammo feeder and ammo carriers. Explaining Sharp's (Nicknamed "Not-so," as in "Not So Sharp" as he was affectionately chided by his band mates.) extra burden for his friend who died while on duty with his gun. Rabenold said there were times when he filled in on the gun while stationed at various outposts in Korea. In an attempt to draw expose enemy snipers, they would get orders to fire toward the approximate enemy positions in the hope they would return fire for spotters to pinpoint their nests.
Rabenold went back to Japan and was assigned to a
casual company of “bakers, cooks and bandsmen.”
They were halfway across the Sea of Japan (“..the deepest sea in the
world,” he adds) with an M-1, two
bandoleers and a cartridge belt of ammo, a “field transport pack” which
contained spare clothes (underwear etc.) and their ever constant companion entrenching tool.
They were first told they had to go in and save the
division trapped at the reservoir. Word
spread among the men at the front that relief was coming, some finding it humorous
that a casual company of cooks and bandsman would be able to save them.
Halfway across, their orders changed and they landed
at Hungnam (though Randy remembers it first as Hagaru-ri; and later thought
Hangnum; Hagaru-ri is a land-locked village just south of the Chosin Reservoir,
north of Koto-ri. See the two previous maps.)
They learned, though completely surrounded and
outnumbered, that the division was able to fight its way out. On December 19th, much of the
Marine Division was evacuated from Hangnum.
Fortson, Rabenold, Nuny and the rest of the Division embarked to
Pusan.
Randy said the men were shattered, saucer-eyed with
battle fatigue and thousand yard stares.
It was Christmas time and they were ordered to stop talking of the
possibility of going home as MacArthur promised.
 |
| Some R & R In Kobe Japan - August 1951 Tom Fortson (right) has a drink with Jim Chambers and Steve Cain. |
 |
| GRIM FACED yet content to have the Chosin Reservoir behind them - Christmas Day 1950 - Open house at the Commanding
General O.P. Smith's Quarters at Masan. Left to right: Lt. Buck, Lt. Col. Creal, Lt. Col.
Murray, Col. Litzenberg, Dr. Hering, Lt. Col. Schuirman, CWO Woodbury, Capt.
Sexton, Maj. Cagle, Lt. Col. Schrier, Gen. O.P. Smith (2 stars on collar), Col. White, Lt. Col.
Starr. NO CRYSTAL HERE: Note the greenery in the mess pot and metal cups. A stark reminder that even at Command, comfort of home materials were slow in coming to non-existent for our GIs as the ever changing battle lines and the five years of downsizing the military since WWII took their toll. |
Fortson recalls enjoying the respite from the front,
being with Dick Sharp in Masan on Christmas Eve as they both celebrated their
twenty-first birthdays so far away from home.
The transcript of Randy’s letter home, in impeccable
handwriting:
Christmas 1950 – Masan, Korea
Cpl
R Rabenod 1071112
HQ
Co.; HQ Battalion
First
Marine Division
“Dear
Mom,
We
are still at Masan. We’ve got mess halls
set up now and even showers.
Yesterday
which was Christmas we had a really good meal.
Turkey, spuds, shrimp cocktail, peas, fruit cake and angels food
cake. Our mess-gear was really piled
high. There was an army band here right
after chow. They played a half hour
concert which was pretty good. I forgot
to tell you that we also had four free cans of beer.
We
stand guard duty every other day for there are still some guerillas in the
hills around here. On our day off we
usually catch a working party or something but, on the whole, we have it pretty
good. And I’d sure hate to leave here
for a combat area, but I guess it can’t last forever and we’ll be moving out
for the front again. This morning we
were given all the gear we were missing and even grenade launchers for our
M-1’s.
I
got a letter yesterday from the Paulsens which was written the 17th
of July!
In
case you didn’t get my last letter. Did
you get the forty dollar money order I sent from Japan? How many war bonds do I have? Don’t forget to use the money if you need it!
“so long”
Love, Rany
“Dear
Mom,
Randy’s captioned “so long” above was a homage to his
mother Mary Rabenold’s familiar yet staid farewell, a phrase she used the whole
of her 93-year life. But more so than
ever, with the distance, the homesick mourning, and the unpleasantness of a
bitter, painful struggle against a seemingly unrelenting enemy, those two
words, more than any, seemed to capture the essence of that moment.
Even though he was far from home, Randy felt lucky
to be alive. And though he missed his fallen
buddies, especially Bobby Kipp and his Dad, he began to see the silver-lining
of his father’s death, and how it may have saved his life.
 |
| Mary and Zach Rabenold c 1930. |
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| Perhaps the last picture of Zach, taken by neighbor Johnny Nothstein in 1947. Zach's death sent Randy home on bereavement leave while the Division was trapped at the Chosin Reservoir. |
Sources:
- Appleman, Roy E. East of Chosin: Entrapment and
Breakout in Korea. Texas: Texas A &
M Press, 1987.
- Drury, Bob and Clavin, Tom. The Last Stand of FOX Company. New York: Grove Press, 2009.
- Hastings, Max.
The Korean War. New York: Simon
& Schuster, 1987.
- Interviews and letters of Donald Blauch, Tom
Fortson, Wally Norsworthy, and Randy Rabenold, 2012-2013.
- Korean War Project.
1st Provisional Marine Brigade De-classified Special Action Report,
2 August to 6 September, 1950.
- Korean War Project.
1st Provisional Marine Brigade De-classified Special Action
Report, September to October, 1950.
- Marine Corps Gazette, July 1951.
- Speights, R. J. Roster of the 1st
Provisional Marine Brigade, Reinforced for August and September While in Action
in Korea. Austin Texas, 1990.
"So Long" - Mary's preferred goodbye.
She lived a long time, 33 years, as a
widow after Zach's death in 1950.
She lived a long time, 33 years, as a
widow after Zach's death in 1950.
