So far, however, there had been no talk of retreat.
While the left and middle of the 2nd Division line had undergone their nights of fire, and were getting chopped up badly, on the right, or eastern, flank sheer disaster had struck, as yet unknown to either division HQ or Eighth Army.
The II ROK Corps, guarding the 2nd Division's right, had come under the heaviest attack. Badly trained, weapon-poor, the frightened ROK's had been split apart, and were fleeing southward in complete panic.
There were KMAG officers with the ROK's, and as many of these as possible were flown out by American liaison planes. But the complete picture of the disaster was slow in coming through the American staffs in the west.
On the 2nd Division right, Colonel Peploe's 38th Infantry had been strung out south of the Kunu-ri-Huich'on road, in contact with the ROK II Corps. Very soon, the Chinese were all over the Rock of the Marne. Again, this action followed that in the middle of the line—Chinese units prowled down the natural corridors by night, slashing through to the American rear. In some areas they collided violently with American companies on line; in others there was no contact.
There was massive American weapon power among these hills. There were regiments, battalions, a whole division. But only companies fought, and each company fought alone, out of sight, often out of knowledge of any other American unit. The battle boiled down into how long individual companies, singled out and enveloped on all sides by overwhelming numbers, could hold out.
It was weird fighting, such as the United States Army had not seen since the days of Fort Phil Kearney, the Washita, the Little Big Horn. And what the Army had learned on those fields had long since been discarded on the battlefields of Europe. Unable to maneuver where its wheels could not go, unable to emplace and effectively use its big guns, unable to see or communicate in these hills, the United States Army was being bitten to death rather than smashed down by numbers.
While on 26 November Colonel Peploe was having trouble finding out what had happened to his front-line platoons, he soon learned what had transpired in the ROK sector, on his right flank. A little past noon, an entire ROK regiment, the 3rd, came wheeling across his lines, causing great confusion among American riflemen unable to tell friend from foe.
The ROK colonel, his own division dissolved, had sent his men retreating into the American sector in an effort to save them.
Peploe called Major General Keiser at once. 'I've got a whole ROK regiment coming into my area. What the hell shall I do with these people?'
Keiser, along with Division HQ, was unquestionably suffering from a certain amount of shock. Against the 2nd Division's own abortive offensive, an enemy blow had landed with stunning speed and ferocity; communications were disrupted, and the inevitable friction of war was slowing Division's reactions. Keiser, worried with other problems, told Peploe, 'Take command of 'em and use 'em, dammit!'
This, Peploe was most happy to do. In these hostile hills friendly faces were scarce. He also adjusted his flank against the new menace.
But Keiser, who earlier had pointed to Eighth Army's east flank and said: 'Goddam it, that's where they'll hit! That'll be their main effort, off our flank and against ROK II Corps!' along with his staff was slow to react to the tidings of disaster. His own division was in deep trouble, the extent of which he could so far only imagine. His own running sores required such attention that the slings and arrows falling upon the ROK's seemed far away and hardly felt.
So that when IX Corps, concerned with the ROK collapse, sent the newly arrived Turkish Brigade up the Kunu-ri road to Tokch'on to guard 2nd Division's flank, the Turks were left dangling. Their mission required close contact and coordination with 2nd Division, at the very least. Furthermore, the Turks, seeing their first action in Korea, had at this time no idea of which side was up or down, or even where the ball park was.
Beset by the crisis within his own front, the 2nd Division commander left the Turks to shift for themselves; no ranking American officer visited them or briefed them.
Floundering about in a morass of uncertainty and a fog of ignorance about everything that was happening, the Turkish Brigade, 5,000 strong, marched east. Near the village of Wawon the Turks became engaged in battle, and ringing reports soon came back that they had routed the enemy, taking many prisoners.
But, tragically, they had blundered into fleeing ROK's, and the 'victory' was over these miserable, panic- stricken remnants of II Corps.
Then, still at Wawon, the main strength of the Chinese burst over them. The detail of what happened will probably never be reported; the essence has been: The Turkish Brigade was destroyed.
Tall, pale-eyed men with dark faces, in heavy greatcoats, wielding long bayonets, the Turks refused to fall back. There were observers who said some officers threw their hats to the ground, marking a spot beyond which they would not retreat, and, surrounded by the enemy, died 'upon their fur.' There were others, all else failing, who threw cold steel at the enemy in bayonet charges. Rarely has a small action, dimly seen, sketchily reported, sent such intimations of glory flashing across the world.
But the Turks died. On 28 November, when the Turkish Brigade at last fell back southwest and linked with the 38th Infantry, only a few of its companies were combat-fit.
It was deeply ironic later, when the American Government, badly concerned with Turkish public opinion concerning their losses, sent quiet apologies to Turkish authorities. The Turks hardly knew what the Americans were talking about. The Turks, however badly used, had come to fight, and above all else Turks were proud of what their men had done.
Americans had forgotten that only a generation before one of their own generals, Pershing, could stand on the soil of France and say to Clemenceau: 'We are here to fight and be killed. Do with us as you will, without counting.'
Colonel Peploe, meanwhile, sooner than Division HQ, had seen the way the tide was running. The first of battle he had four line companies broken, and a reserve company badly battered. His only real error as to the gravity of the situation was that he thought his 38th was standing off the enemy's principal strength. He did not really understand that the ROK's and Turks were meeting that, or that the Manchu Raiders were suffering far worse in the middle of the division zone than was his Rock of the Marne.
Only gradually he learned that he had no right flank at all and that the Chinese were south of him.
He wanted to rearrange his units so that his right flank was refused to the enemy, and concerning this he again called Keiser. Unless Peploe pulled back to the southwest, the Chinese would be in position to cut the American main supply route running south.
Keiser, though not really understanding the seriousness of the situation, told him to use his own judgment. Peploe's move, while it could not break the web of fate closing in about 2nd Division, diverted complete disaster.
Rolling with the punch, fighting a battle royal, the men of the 38th pulled back astride the Ch'ongch'on during the night. As Brigadier General S. L. A. Marshall put it, writing of this night of battle, 'It is … a pity that young Americans have to die bravely but inconspicuously on a foreign hillside in a national cause and have no better words than these spoken of them.'
Slowly, the 2nd Division was contracting back toward Kunu-ri. While the 38th was being pushed back on the right and south, the 9th, across the Ch'ongch'on, was also being sprung backward. Strung out along the river and road, the division hourly neared being taken by a double envelopment, a fact that was only slowly being appreciated in higher headquarters.
To the north and east, 25th Division, also bloodied, though not to the extent of the 2nd, was falling back toward the Kunu-ri junction.
For once, things were actually worse on the ground up front then on the maps at Division HQ.
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