| Writing Fiction posted October 12, 2021 |
  |
Escape from the Chinese attack at the Chosin Reservoir
Escape in Korea
by HarryT
In the bitter cold winter of 1950, in the middle of the Korean War, General Douglas MacArthur ordered the 1st Marine Division to push to the Yalu River at the China-Korea border. The temperature dipped to 20 below zero. We were ordered to dig in atop a small hill just west of the Chosin Reservoir. My buddy, Jim, who we called the old man, because he was 24 years old and I worked hard, but our trenching tools did little to penetrate the frozen ground. Sweat oozed over my body, my tee-shirt and pants froze to my skin. Still, we could only scratch out a small depression. Exhausted, we stopped digging as soon as we sensed our heads would be below the snow-covered ground and we crawled into our sleeping bags.
Unbeknown to us, maneuvering along the base of the hill, completely hidden by dark and the jagged terrain, were Chinese soldiers who crossed the China-Korean border. Without warning, we were under attack. Their lead soldiers scurried up the hill, throwing grenades toward our foxholes. Bugles sounded and cymbals banged, riflemen came forward, indiscriminately firing rifles and submachine guns in our direction. We hurried from our sleeping bags and began returning fire. The first of the screaming assault troops dropped in front of our foxholes, but they kept coming, shooting and bayonetting some of the Marines who were too exhausted to respond. A hate-faced soldier loomed above our foxhole. He fired. Blood burgeoned from Jim’s chest. I shot and the grinning soldier fell on me, his blood soaking into my clothing. Laying quiet I stayed under his body until the Chinese marauders moved past. When I heard sounds beyond our position, I slipped from under the body. Checked Jim's neck, no pulse, covered him with his sleeping bag and climbed from my hole. I crawled slowly into snow covered underbrush and then eased behind two large rocks. A snipper’s bullet ricocheted off a nearby rock. I hunkered down next to a bolder. Just before sunrise, I worked my way back toward our lines. There was agony in my lungs, I thought my breath would freeze in my throat, my feet were blocks of ice, cold wet sinking into my skin. I slithered on my stomach, then ran for what seemed like hours. Then I heard a voice, a corpsman met me and said, “I got you, Marine, come this way.”
~ War Story ~ writing prompt entry
In the bitter cold winter of 1950, in the middle of the Korean War, General Douglas MacArthur ordered the 1st Marine Division to push to the Yalu River at the China-Korea border. The temperature dipped to 20 below zero. We were ordered to dig in atop a small hill just west of the Chosin Reservoir. My buddy, Jim, who we called the old man, because he was 24 years old and I worked hard, but our trenching tools did little to penetrate the frozen ground. Sweat oozed over my body, my tee-shirt and pants froze to my skin. Still, we could only scratch out a small depression. Exhausted, we stopped digging as soon as we sensed our heads would be below the snow-covered ground and we crawled into our sleeping bags.
Unbeknown to us, maneuvering along the base of the hill, completely hidden by dark and the jagged terrain, were Chinese soldiers who crossed the China-Korean border. Without warning, we were under attack. Their lead soldiers scurried up the hill, throwing grenades toward our foxholes. Bugles sounded and cymbals banged, riflemen came forward, indiscriminately firing rifles and submachine guns in our direction. We hurried from our sleeping bags and began returning fire. The first of the screaming assault troops dropped in front of our foxholes, but they kept coming, shooting and bayonetting some of the Marines who were too exhausted to respond. A hate-faced soldier loomed above our foxhole. He fired. Blood burgeoned from Jim’s chest. I shot and the grinning soldier fell on me, his blood soaking into my clothing. Laying quiet I stayed under his body until the Chinese marauders moved past. When I heard sounds beyond our position, I slipped from under the body. Checked Jim's neck, no pulse, covered him with his sleeping bag and climbed from my hole. I crawled slowly into snow covered underbrush and then eased behind two large rocks. A snipper’s bullet ricocheted off a nearby rock. I hunkered down next to a bolder. Just before sunrise, I worked my way back toward our lines. There was agony in my lungs, I thought my breath would freeze in my throat, my feet were blocks of ice, cold wet sinking into my skin. I slithered on my stomach, then ran for what seemed like hours. Then I heard a voice, a corpsman met me and said, “I got you, Marine, come this way.”
Unbeknown to us, maneuvering along the base of the hill, completely hidden by dark and the jagged terrain, were Chinese soldiers who crossed the China-Korean border. Without warning, we were under attack. Their lead soldiers scurried up the hill, throwing grenades toward our foxholes. Bugles sounded and cymbals banged, riflemen came forward, indiscriminately firing rifles and submachine guns in our direction. We hurried from our sleeping bags and began returning fire. The first of the screaming assault troops dropped in front of our foxholes, but they kept coming, shooting and bayonetting some of the Marines who were too exhausted to respond. A hate-faced soldier loomed above our foxhole. He fired. Blood burgeoned from Jim’s chest. I shot and the grinning soldier fell on me, his blood soaking into my clothing. Laying quiet I stayed under his body until the Chinese marauders moved past. When I heard sounds beyond our position, I slipped from under the body. Checked Jim's neck, no pulse, covered him with his sleeping bag and climbed from my hole. I crawled slowly into snow covered underbrush and then eased behind two large rocks. A snipper’s bullet ricocheted off a nearby rock. I hunkered down next to a bolder. Just before sunrise, I worked my way back toward our lines. There was agony in my lungs, I thought my breath would freeze in my throat, my feet were blocks of ice, cold wet sinking into my skin. I slithered on my stomach, then ran for what seemed like hours. Then I heard a voice, a corpsman met me and said, “I got you, Marine, come this way.”
|
Writing Prompt Read All Rules Write a FICTIONAL war story of 400 words or less [do NOT write about the war effort back home]. Story must reflect about something related to war, and may include its aftermath [such as soldiers returning home]. One picture with no words, music, or animation may be included. Use one color font with one color background. Dedication line may be included which will not count in word length. Author notes acceptable with one video which may have music. Story may be based on real events, but must read as fiction. |
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. HarryT All rights reserved.
HarryT has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
