“A” Battery’s Independent Battle Action – Korea

by Francis Graves

I served in the 1^st Calvary Division in the Korean War. My unit was the 82^nd Field Artillery Battalion which was the general support artillery for the division. We were armed with 155mm Howitzers as opposed to the direct support battalions which were armed with the shorter range 105mm Howitzers.

In early 1951 I was the Commander of “A” Battery when it was assigned an unusual direct support mission. The Division had been driving north (before the Chinese entered the war) and was fighting in very remote, mountainous terrain. One of our cavalry* battalions was locked in a hard fight near a large reservoir and urgently needed artillery support, but it’s direct support unit could not get within range to help due to the difficult terrain.

My Battery was detached from the Battalion and ordered into the mountains to a deep narrow valley from which our Howitzers could reach the enemy. There was a very old unused road, more trail than road, leading into that valley which was barely passable for our high speed tractor prime movers. I believe the valley had been located by aerial reconnaissance. I went up to look at the site and was appalled. The valley was “V” shaped with no flat ground and its sides were very steep, but treeless, and soft ground.

The area was too small for all six of my guns so I opted to bring up four which we emplaced halfway up the slope opposite from our direction of fire. We used a D-4 Caterpillar bulldozer to dig deeply into the side of the hill to provide enough level ground for our guns to be put into action.

I left most of my battery sub-units behind bringing only the four Howitzers, two ammunition trucks and my fire direction center along with a security detail armed with several machine guns because in that area we were vulnerable to attack by enemy patrols.

We were in contact with the infantry unit we were supporting by radio and someone, possibly an artillery observer, managed to register (direct) our fire into the enemy area. Once in position we spent the day and evening providing fire support by employing the high-angle fire capability of our Howitzers which was necessary in order to clear the high ridge on the opposite side of our narrow valley. It was hard work for our gunners and canoneers working without rest preparing, loading, and firing projectiles weighing about one hundred pounds almost continuously.

But at the end of the day we were successful. Our infantry defeated the North Korean enemy unit they were facing decisively, with our fire support.

It was an unusual mission for a general support battery which rarely operated independently of the battalion, and on a direct support mission. The action was made especially difficult by the “impossible” terrain, our isolated vulnerable location, difficult radio communication conditions, and the need to work directly with an infantry unit we did not know.

I was proud of the way my soldiers performed. They were professionals and dedicated to our mission. We all certainly earned our pay that day.

Our greatest reward, however, was a message from the infantry commander, whom I have yet to meet, commending us for the “best artillery support he’d ever had.”

*The 1^st Cav Div in Korea was organized as an infantry division so it called its regiments “cavalry.”

Integrating the 82nd Field Artillery Battalion – Korean War Memories

By Francis Graves

In 1951 I was commanding A Battery of the 82^nd FA Bn. One morning my Battalion Commander called me on our battalion telephone net.

“Graves,” he said. “We are about to receive black soldiers as replacements. You are my only battery commander who is not from the South. Will you take the first ones?”

“Of course, Sir. I’d be happy to.”

That is how our all-white battalion first integrated.*

As I recall we received five black soldiers, a sergeant, a corporal and three privates initially. The sergeant was a graduate of Texas Tech, a quiet well qualified non-com who was immediately assigned to fill a vacancy as Chief of Detail (the battery survey and fire direction team) and he took charge immediately of all his white subordinates and did an excellent job. A perfect fit.

The corporal whose name was Nelson was a small cocky man from Chicago with an aggressive personality. He had been what he called an ‘ambulance chaser’ working for lawyers in the Windy City. It took a month or so for our veteran soldiers to accept him because of his cockiness. He had several altercations with the old timers. He finally became accepted when he challenged anyone to a boxing match. He proved to be an excellent boxer and he beat several challengers bigger than him. He soon gained respect and became a popular among the men.

Unfortunately, we lost the other three. They had infantry MOS’s (Military Occupational Specialty) and were transferred out of the artillery. While we had them they proved to be excellent hardworking men who had made positive contributions in the battery.

I have always been quietly proud of those men and the part I had to play in the integration of the 82^nd Field Artillery Battalion, which was the general support battalion of the 1^st Cavalry Division.**

*The armed forces officially integrated as of 1948, but it was not until two years later the units in Korea began receiving black soldiers.

**The battalion was armed with 155mm Howitzers rowed by high speed tractors.

Memorial

Written Memorial Day, May 30, 2011 by Francis Graves

The Third Infantry Division in which I served in WW II, accompanied by two other American and one British Division, made an amphibious landing at Anzio, Italy, on January 22, 1944. It was an ‘end-around’ regarding the Germans who had tenaciously held fast on the Casino line anchored on Monte Casino north of Naples. The hope was that the allied sudden presence in their rear would cause them to withdraw from their defensive positions, but that did not happen. Not only did they not withdraw, but they quickly surrounded our forces on the Anzio Beachhead with enough strength to prevent us from moving inland.

The Beachhead became a very dangerous place with the German forces trying to force us back into the sea and us fighting to stay dry. That situation lasted four long cold, miserable months. Our Division alone sustained over six thousand battle casualties. It was not until May 22^nd that we were able to break through the German defenses.

I was a lieutenant in “C” Battery of the 39^th Field Artillery Battalion rotating as the artillery forward observer with my friend and counterpart, Lieutenant Barnard Klang, in supporting the Third Battalion of the 15^th Infantry Regiment. I was scheduled to be forward with the infantry in the break out attack on May 22^nd, but had been temporarily assigned to a provisional machine gun battalion the Division had organized to help support the break out effort.

One hundred 50 caliber machine guns (all Division owned) were organized into four batteries of twenty-five guns each. I commanded one of those units and our mission was to employ those weapons, which have a very long range, as we would artillery in interdictory fire missions against enemy strong points. Each gun had to be emplaced along the banks of a canal and accurately located by survey to enable us to aim them accurately at the various targets assigned to us.

We worked at it nights and laid low during the daylight hours to be sure the enemy, which had observation posts in the hills surrounding the beachhead, would not see what we were about. That made for slow work and it took us a better part of a week prior to breakout day to complete the task.

D-day finally arrived and the attack proceeded on schedule and after a very long day of hard fighting was successful. German resistance was fierce but in the end, they were driven back and a significant allied victory was achieved. Our Machine Gun Battalion fired tens of thousands of rounds of ammunition, and the Third of the 15^th, supported by my friend Barney Klang, who had taken my scheduled rotation, achieved its objective after a costly engagement.

But Barney died that day. He was killed in action doing his duty.

(Published in Ashland Daily Press under “Memorial to a Fallen Soldier” on June 2, 2011.)

Wrecking an L-4 Aircraft

By Francis Graves

 

In the summer of 1945 the Third Army was in transition from war fighting to occupation duties and things were winding down. I was junior Aide de Camp to General Patton and as such lived in his residence with the rest of the personal staff, on the Tegernzee, a beautiful Bavarian Lake nestled in the Alps. The general was in the US participating in victory celebrations.

The weather was warm and balmy and Howard Rice, who was co-pilot of the general’s C-47 aircraft, and I spent our off duty hours boating on the lake in a small speed boat that came with the general’s residence. On the lake we met a beautiful German girl who lived nearby. Being young and red-blooded we both were instantly enamored of the lady and began paying attention to her on the pretext that it was an opportunity to learn German. Understand – idle fraternizing with the civilian population was forbidden.

We arranged to meet her on the lake from time to time and enjoy the beauty of the place, swim, and of course study the language demonstrated for us. I must admit that a friendly competition developed between Howard and me, which resulted in our showing off a bit which seemed to please and entertain her. In the course of that relationship she told us she lived in a small village high in the Alps, only a few kilometers from our lake.

One day when Howard and I were not engaged in official duties we hatched a plan to do an aerial reconnaissance to locate her town. Clearly we could not do it in the C-47, so we went to the Third Army Artillery airstrip in the hope of borrowing one of their small airplanes for an hour or so. They were reluctant but finally allowed us to take one for their L-4s, a small two seat Piper-cub type spotter plane powered by a 65HP engine, which had to be started by one person spinning the propeller while the pilot worked the throttle.

What I did not know, but soon learned, was that Howard had never flown an L-4. He was used to the big two powerful engines of the C-47. But he said flying was flying, and he was a flyer, and I was not to worry. We finally got the thing started and off the ground and headed for the Tegernzee area. We climbed up into the Alps and located her village perched precariously on a ridge surrounded by hay fields. Being a thorough-going flyboy, Howard buzzed the town and dropped down to fly tight circles around the place, hoping the object of our affections would show herself so we could wave to here.

At that point Howard’s lack of experience with light aircraft became painfully apparent. He made our turn a little too tight and we stalled with the left wing down. He put on full power to recover but 65HP was not enough. The wing tip caught the Alp and we spun around it into the field hitting engine tail first, then engine. We came to a halt with the passenger compartment being the only component left intact. We were in some shock after coming to a stop, and sat there completely unhurt pondering our situation. However, were soon brought to our senses by the villagers rushing to our wreck. For a moment I thought they were coming to rescue us until I noticed they had their sickles, scythes and rakes with them. They were not there to save us but to save the hay around our wreck. I found that a bit sobering.

To end the story, we decided I would go for help and Howard would stay there to prevent vandalism on what was left intact of our airplane. I hiked down to the general’s residence to report our disaster with considerable trepidation. It was six or seven kilometers distant and I was wearing low shoes and developed blisters, thus becoming the only casualty of the situation.

I reached the residence a little before noon. Major General Hobart ‘Hap’ Gay, Third Army Chief of Staff, was there. I found him in his room shaving. When he saw me in my disheveled state in the mirror he turned and said, “Okay, Frankie, what have you done now?”

I explained the situation. I did not think it was funny and fully expected to be reprimanded and perhaps court martialed. But General Gay laughed and enquired about Howard, and directed me to take a Jeep and fetch him, adding, “You better invite Howard for lunch.”

It turned out that the plane we borrowed was old and about to be ‘surveyed,’ which in Army lingo meant destroyed and written off.

(P.S. I later served in the 1^st Cavalry Division in Korea commanded by General Gay.)

Probably the Dumbest of the Dumb Things I Have Done!

by Frank Graves

After making the Southern France amphibious landing August 19, 1944, our 3rd Division moved north as fast as we could against spotty German resistance. Sometime in September, I was up with the infantry as usual doing my job directing artillery fire. The battalion I was with was a point unit leading the advance in our sector and we had outrun the follow-up units and our artillery as well. We had paused to wait for them to catch up, in a defensive position on high ground in lightly wooded rolling-hill country, intermingled with vineyards and orchards.

The sun was high in a cloudless sky. There was no breeze. It was a hot, humid, enervating day. After sitting around, dozing and drinking lots of water, I and my crew and the infantry around us were bored. We had lost contact with the enemy. As far as we could tell there was not a German within miles of us.

In the early afternoon a couple of locals came through our lines. They claimed they were part of a civilian resistance unit (FFI) and announced that they were holding some German soldiers prisoner in a farmhouse not far ahead of our position. They assured us there were no enemy units anywhere close and asked the infantry company commander to send a detail to pick them up and bring them over. He considered it, but finally refused, having been ordered to hold where we were. The Frenchmen were very persuasive and stressed the fact the area was free of Germans.

Perhaps it was the weather that effected my judgment, but I thought it a pleasant diversion to go in and bring prisoners back. At least it was something to do, and as long as there was no danger of encountering Germans, why not do it? So, I loaded my crew and the two Frenchmen on my Jeep and we headed for the farmhouse.

I first became concerned after we traveled three or four kilometers into what was nominally enemy territory and were still going. Finally, after another kilometer, we arrived. The farmhouse turned out to be a large building - part dwelling and part warehouse. It was on high ground in some woods, perhaps fifty yards beyond a paved road which we crossed. On advice of our escorts we parked the Jeep behind some thick bushes atop a fifteen or twenty foot bank above the road. I left my driver, PFC Burns, and my wireman, Cpl. Garcia, with the vehicle and I, with Cpl. Adams, my radioman and the two Frenchmen walked up to the house to fetch the prisoners.

There were six or eight of them - too many to load on the Jeep. I was pondering walking them back though our lines followed by our vehicle with one of us seated on the hood with our issue Tommy Gun, when I heard a whistle from Garcia who waved at us and pointed up the road to our left. Whatever he saw was screened from us at the house, but I saw Garcia run up to the Jeep and pull some hand grenades out of a box mounted on the vehicle. I quickly surmised something bad was about to happen.

Then I saw it. The muzzle break of a German tank came into sight moving slowly from our left to the right along the road to our Jeep. The gun grew longer and longer until the tank finally came into full view. There was maybe a squad of riflemen riding on top. They obviously had not seen our vehicle because they were smoking and laughing and clearly did not expect us to be there.

At that moment I prayed Garcia would not throw the grenades down on them - that he would do nothing but stay out of sight. Happily that is what he did and the tank passed unmolested, and it was followed by a truck also loaded with more relaxing infantrymen. That was all. It seemed obvious that it was a mounted patrol sweeping through the area. Clearly they were not expecting to encounter us or anyone else because they were not prepared to meet any possible threat. Perturbed, I turned to our French partisans inquiringly. They looked at me and merely shrugged as if to say, "Who knew?"

Encountering that patrol certainly created dry mouth time for me. I realized that I had stupidly undertaken something I had no business doing. Now the problem became how would I get, not only the prisoners, but my crew back to our lines without being detected. After waiting awhile to be sure no more Germans were coming down the road, I sent Burns back alone in our Jeep with instructions to tell our infantry we were walking back through the vineyards with the prisoners, and ask them to send a German truck they had captured down the highway, which passed though their position, to intercept us.

Happily Burns got through undetected and the truck met us. We loaded the prisoners on it and climbed aboard ourselves and headed back to our lines. Then I really began to worry! Here we were in a German truck loaded with Germans, our prisoners, and approaching our lines. What happens if some trigger happy GI sees us and starts shooting? Well, we got back through our lines without a problem and everyone laughed about it all. But I fully realized the dumb thing I had done, just because I was bored, and I was kicking myself for doing it - and continue to do so to this day.