About the Bookstore Browse Aisles Search Desk Shopping Basket Book Trade Terms Just Released! Return Policy Help Here is the full reference card for this book... If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113. Notes from an Airborne Rifle Company: 1950-1951 by Robert T. Brown 191 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-0385; ISBN 1-4120-0022-X; US$20.00, C$24.00, EUR15.60, £10.90 A Collection of 22 independent yet related sketches based on the author's experiences in an airborne rifle company during the first year of the Korean war. Read more! about the book      about the author      sample excerpts or Table of Contents      catalogue info About the Book A collection of 22 independent by related sketches based on experiences in an airborne rifle company during the first year of the Korean War, this work should not be considered a war memoir. Rather, most of the episodes collected here might better be considered works of fiction, even though all are based on fact to one degree or another. Many of them are based on material in letters home, but the letters are mostly very brief. They serve only as a memory freshener regarding the order in which things happened, not the details of what happened. Other stories are based only on memory. The stories range from attempts at factual reporting (as factual as can be expected some fifty years after the fact), to almost pure fiction. The Hero is a fictionalized amalgam of real events that actually took place several months apart. Dear Jane is a work of fiction suggested by three short sentences in one letter. Night Attack is an attempt at a narrative description of actual events, because the events still seem very clear in author's mind. However, the description of the character is actually based on two people. P'Yongyang Airdrome is a fictional account based on the events of a real November afternoon. The Air force Captain who supplied the bottles really existed, but his name was never known. Even the description of events that are meant to be factual may not agree with the recollections of others who were present at the same events. Eye-witness accounts of infantry combat can vary widely when reported from separations as small as a few yards. Every man experiences his own war, and the wars are all different. In many cases the attempts at narrative accounts include fictional, but plausible, details, because the memory of actual details has faded. The most valuable part of the work is not fictional, and that is the record of the shared thoughts and feelings of the men of the company. All the conversations among the troops included here acutally took place. Beer Ration for example, is based on conversations and events that actully took place over a considerable period of time. Christmas Eve, on the other hand, is based on a letter written on that date, and the conversations reported there all toook place within a day or two of that date. MacArthur Visits the Front is also based on a letter, written on the same day as the visit, and is only a slightly expanded version of the letter. In general, the thoughts and feelings of the men of Company B as reported here can be considered accurate, because almost all are quoted in letters home. The opinions expressed here cover a wide range of subjects, from the very highest to the lowest, including, for example, The Commander-in-Chief, President Harry S. Truman The Supreme Commander, General Douglas MacArthur the conduct of the war, which a large number of the men believed was the opening round of World War III War movies, which almost always get almost everything wrong Close air support, which the Navy and Marine Corps handled superbly, and which the U.S. Air Force did not handle well at all. The policy of rotating men in and out of combat units as individual replacements, instead of rotating whole combat units. If most of the speakers of the actual words quoted here seem to be nameless, faceless voices, it is because that is what they have become after all these years. While in a very few cases there has been an attempt to put together fictional composite characters, in most cases there has not. The voices have simply been allowed to speak. About the Author Robert T. Brown entered the U.S. Army directly from high school at age 17, enlisting specifically for airborne training and for assignment to the 11th Airborne Division, then to occupation duty in northern Japan. After his military service, which included two combat parachute jumps in Korea, he attended San Bernardino Valley College, California, and the University of California, Riverside, and received a Ph.D. in physics from the University of Michigan. Most of his professional career has been devoted to defense-related subjects, ranging from the nuclear weapons program to low-observables technology development. His previously published work has appeared in such places as Physical Review, Astrophusical Journal and Journal of Chemical Physics. He recently retired as an engineering group leader with the Lockheed Martin Skunk Works, and now lives in Chester County, Pennsylvania.

Sample Excerpt

MacArthur Gets a Medal---Or Does He? (pp 21-23)

The inside of the C-119 is noisier than usual when the green light comes on. There is not just the roar of the engines and the shuffling of boots and the metal-on-metal sound of static line snap-fasteners being dragged along the anchor cable and the shouted "One-thousand, two-thou... " of each jumper as he clears the door. This time here is also the clanging and clattering of the monorail that extends down the center of the airplane, between the two rows of men making their way toward and then out the two doors at the rear. It is an overhead trolley carrying a row of A-5 aerial delivery containers, hanging from something like the mechanism that carries the hangers or bundles of hangers holding customers' clothing in a dry cleaning shop.

The machinery makes a lot of noise and the roughly man-size containers jerk and sway as they are dragged forward along the length of the airplane and then released out a rectangular hatch in the floor near the forward end of the troop compartment. So once the door is cleared and the welcome violence of the opening shock out of the way, the transition to the peace and quiet of the sky is more pronounced than usual. No matter how many times it has happened, the contrast always comes as something of a surprise. There is first the noise and vibration and bouncing of the airplane, then the rush of the propblast and deployment of the parachute, followed by the snapping open of the canopy, reducing a speed of over a hundred miles per hour to almost nothing in a fraction of a second. Finally after all this excitement comes the calm feeling of floating under the open parachute canopy. The noisy airplane is a faint buzz fading into the distance, blending with the buzz of the other airplanes in the formation. The only feeling of motion is the gentle breeze caused by the pendulum-like oscillations of the heavily loaded parachute coupled with a descent rate that today is probably near the high end of the nominal 18 to 24 feet per second of the T-7 canopy. That is about 15 miles per hour, and it always seems quite slow, almost negligible, more like floating, until the ground begins to approach.

The first and most important thing to do is check the canopy. The canopy is fine. The next thing to do is look around and check the traffic. That is not so fine; the sky is very crowded. The whole battalion is in the air at once, and it is at full strength. Or maybe it is even a little over the officially authorized full strength. It is not like some of the so-called mass jumps at Fort Campbell leading up to the Swarmer maneuvers of last spring. On one of those occasions seven airplanes were enough for the whole battalion, which meant that there were maybe 250 men jumping, not too much more than one company at the present strength. After looking around and checking for other jumpers, the next thing to do is look down to see what kind of landing it will be. According to the pre-jump briefings, the DZ would be flat, mostly rice paddies, dry at this time of year. Wouldn't you know it, of the three main landing hazards that had been emphasized in jump school, there are two directly below. There is water, and there are power lines. The water is in two forms. There is a meandering stream, and there are some more-or-less straight irrigation canals. There are also two types of power lines. Some are on wooden poles, and there is one line of steel towers. At least there aren't any very tall trees, the third of the bad things to avoid if at all possible.

(pp 25-29)

The fourth bad thing, never mentioned in jump school, but supposedly taken care of in all the training after that, is that today there are no doubt people on the DZ who will be trying to kill you. And the way to take care of that is to kill them first. That, after all, is the reason everyone is here. "Close with the enemy and destroy him, " is the mission of the infantry, and this is just another way of closing with the enemy. Concentrate on slipping to miss the power lines. They are closer than the water. But in slipping away from the power lines the other traffic gets neglected. The nearest power line is safely several yards away, and receding, but now the ground is almost here. And so is another jumper, who has already landed and is just getting onto his feet after getting out of his harness. It is too late to do anything, and left boot makes solid contact with the side of his helmet on a forward swing of the oscillations that are always present when the canopy is not being slipped. The helmet goes sailing through the air, and the man who had been wearing it staggers but does not fall. Except for the collision with the helmet, and the head inside it, the landing is not too bad. As for the fourth bad thing, there is the sound of small arms fire, but it is sporadic, and does not seem to be very close. Make a note to find the guy whose helmet got kicked off and apologize. Recognized him right away; he was the poor bastard who just a couple of days ago got the "Dear John " letter from his wife's lawyer. Roll over onto back to get better access to reserve chute D-rings and belly band, and quick-release box on the main harness. From this position there is a good view of the sky while getting out of the harness. Several thousand feet overhead a four-engine plane is circling around the DZ, escorted by a swarm of fighter planes. Maybe it's a camera plane. This operation certainly should make the newsreels. Make another mental note: in the next letter to the folks back home, tell them, "I'm 17th guy in the right stick out of the middle plane in the second vee of the first serial over the DZ. You can't miss me. "

A little later, after the men of the company begin assembling, the four-engine airplane is the second most popular topic of conversation. The first priority of course is the assembly: "Which way is Charlie Company? " or, "Where's the third platoon? " and so forth. Just about everyone has seen the airplane, and the men are all in agreement that it must have been a photo plane, or if it wasn't it should have been. It is not until several days later that the men learn that the airplane had carried General MacArthur himself, "directing " the operation from several thousand feet in the air. First there is the next day's edition of Pacific Stars and Stripes, which the men do not see until more than a week later. The lead story on the front page has a headline stating that the regiment "... 'Hits the Silk' North of P'Yongyang to Trap NKs. " It has a dateline that reads "With General MacArthur over North Korea (INS), " and in the body of the article are the statements "... under the personal direction from the air of General Douglas MacArthur, " and "General MacArthur dropped combat-tested paratroopers ..., " as if he had personally flown the airplane that did the dropping. The next day's issue again features the jump on the front page, this time with an aerial photo of a sky full of parachutes. And this time it is the photo caption that includes the words, "... was personally directed from the air by General MacArthur. "

There is a similar story in one of the stateside papers sent by the family of one of the men. This one emphasizes the general's landing at the P'Yongyang airport, in the newly captured enemy capital, immediately after "directing " the airborne operation, and it contains the phrase "this climactic closing phase of the war. " Athough this story differs in many details from the one in {\it Pacific Stars and Stripes}, the first one the men had seen, it carries the identical dateline, this time with an actual date, "With General MacArthur over North Korea, Oct. 20---. " And it again contains the phrase "... under personal direction from the air of General Douglas MacArthur. "

Both articles use the word "dramatic, " or "dramatically, " several times, and both use "triumphant " or "triumphantly " to describe his announcement to the reporters and others present that "The war is very definitely coming to an end shortly. " It is almost as if the news stories are nothing but rewrites of a press release handed out by the general's staff. The story from the stateside paper is everyone's favorite in spite of what the men consider the almost comic emphasis on the supreme commander and his "directing " of the operation. The men know more than anyone else that that part of the story is simply not true. The five-star general circling several thousand feet over them had absolutely nothing to do with the conduct of the operation once it was under way. But the story is their favorite anyway because of the headline it carries. "Paratroopers Leap to Seal Doom of Reds " is what the headline says, and it is a great morale booster. All the men who see it agree that they couldn't have come up with a better headline if they had been given the assignment themselves. More than the boots and wings and hatpatch, and certainly more than the extra pay, the chance to be the subject of a headline like this is the real reason that men volunteer for airborne duty, and why they are here. Somehow the story goes around that the general had received the Distinguished Flying \hfill Cross when he landed at P'Yongyang. The story is widely believed. It has a certain plausibility and seems a natural enough thing to have happened, what with all the press coverage of the general "personally directing " the operation from the air over enemy territory, and the generous use of the words "dramatic " and "triumphant. " It turns out not to have been true. The general did get a Distinguished Flying Cross for flying as a passenger in an unarmed airplane over enemy-held territory. But it happened a little over a month later, the enemy territory was occupied by Chinese troops, and the war was definitely not coming to an end shortly.

Night Attack (pp 71-76)

The company was in battalion reserve, quartered in a small town, not much more than a village. The company shared the village with part of the battalion headquarters troops, and security was provided by the battalion A\&P platoon, which had set up a roadblock at either end of the main and almost only street. So all of the company had found shelter in buildings along the street. The buildings were all one-story, wooden, and it was almost impossible to tell what they had been used for, because they had been stripped clean of everything movable. There was no heat, but most of the windows were unbroken, so at least the men were out of the weather.

They had spent the afternoon checking and rechecking weapons and ammunition. The machine guns got special attention because earlier in the day one of them had been found to have a very small sliver of brass from a ruptured cartridge lodged in the chamber. It gave the gun crew quite a jolt, because it had survived at least one cleaning and inspection since the last time it was fired. It would certainly have jammed on the next attempt to fire it.

The discovery had come during an impromptu class one of the machine gunners had found himself conducting on the subject of operation and maintenance of the light machine gun, caliber .30, M1919A6. As the name M1919 makes clear, it had been developed not quite in time for World War I. The A6 model had a metal shoulder stock and bipod and carrying handle, in addition to the original tripod base, so it could be carried and operated by one man. It was still considered a crew-served weapon, because it was belt-fed, and really required a second man to keep the belt lined up and feeding properly. The big advantage of the shoulder stock and bipod was that the gunner did not have to worry about being separated from the man carrying the tripod. Or even if they were not separated, there were the precious seconds needed to get the pintle on the bottom front of the receiver into the socket on the tripod. With the A6 the gunner could be ready to fire at any time.

The company supply truck was in the town, so there had been an opportunity to replenish ammunition loads. But the company kitchen truck was not there, and the men had had to make do once again with cold C rations. About five PM, well after dark, word had come that the company was no longer in reserve. After a very short meeting of the platoon leaders with the company commander, the men got the word that they were to carry out a night attack. There was no time for more of a briefing than the words: "Night attack; let's go, " and the company loaded into a column of 2 1/2 ton trucks that had appeared in the street at the same time the news had come. The convoy crept out of the town with only the dim slits of blackout lights showing.

It was cold, but not bitterly so, probably in the high twenties, and there was no wind. A very light snow was falling. The trucks were open to the weather. The canvas covers were never used if there was even a remote chance of enemy contact. Better to be cold and/or wet than not be ready to spring into action instantaneously. Finally, after what seemed like a long ride, but which had taken them only a few miles outside of the town, the column of trucks stopped. The company commander's jeep had stopped at the battalion forward CP, which consisted of a couple of jeeps parked at the side of the narrow dirt road. The road ran northward along the east side of the valley. There was a bit of open space on the left of the road, but on the right the hillside climbed directly and steeply up from the road. The planned attack was to be the left, across the open space and up the hill on that side.

After a very short while a runner came trotting along the line of trucks, his equipment rattling and jingling, almost like sleighbells, appropriate on this snowy December night. He stopped at each vehicle with a whispered message for the officer or senior NCO in the right-hand front seat. There was no need to whisper. His equipment was making more noise than a normal conversation would have done. Someone would have to talk to him about that.

The news was good. The night attack was off. A few weeks ago the men would not have considered the news good. They would have been eager to go and would have had a let-down feeling at the news of a cancelled attack. But that was back before they had heard, several times, and at least twice officially by direct quotes from the Supreme Commander himself, that the war was just about over and that they would be on their way home by Christmas. After that the rumor mill had taken over, and the biggest disagreement among the various rumors had been whether the regiment would stop off for a victory parade in Tokyo, or go directly to New York for a parade there. But now it was pretty clear that they would not be on their way home by Christmas, that there was not going to be a victory parade anywhere very soon, and there might not be a victory parade anywhere, ever.

The enemy troops, guerrillas, irregulars, cut-off regular units trying to get back north, whatever they were, were breaking off contact and the battalion was pretty much in possession of the real estate. The company's assignment now was simply to set up positions on the high ground to the right of the road. The hills on the left side of the road were already occupied by the other companies of the battalion, and the right had been reported to be clear of enemy troops.

As each truckload got the word, the men dismounted and formed up along the right shoulder of the road. Although no one had given the order, some of the men fixed bayonets, just in case.

The snow had stopped, and the clouds were breaking up. Here and there a star could be seen through the bare branches of the trees that covered the hillside. There was no moon.

The men moved up the hill as quietly as possible, considering that the ground was littered with fallen leaves. That the trees on this particular hill were mostly deciduous was both bad and good. Although the leaves meant that it was almost impossible to move without a crunching sound underfoot, the hillside was not as dark as it would have been under a canopy of evergreen trees.

The company was spread out, with two platoons abreast and one following, and squads spread out in skirmish formation. The 57mm recoilless rifles from the weapons platoon had joined up with the rifle platoons, and the 60mm mortars were in position near the road. The orders had been simply to set up positions on the high ground, but the company was treating this as a tactical and not an administrative movement.

As the center of the second platoon formation neared the top of the hill their approach was interrupted by the unmistakable sphincter-loosening metal-on-metal sound of a bolt sliding and clicking into place only a few yards away, directly to their front. Some of the men instinctively paused and started to take up crouching or half-kneeling positions, their weapons swinging from the port arms position they had used in climbing the hill toward a marching fire position, safeties off.

Then came the equally unmistakable sound of a voice with what could only be a challenge. It wasn't necessary to understand the words to understand what they meant. The company interpreter just happened to be near this part of the formation. He answered as well as he could, but it was not good enough. He was a native speaker of the language, so that was not the problem. He was answered immediately by a burst of fire from an automatic weapon, and then another.

The men who had not already done so hit the ground. Some of them returned the fire, in some cases even before they hit the ground, aiming at the muzzle flashes from higher on the hill, or where the muzzle flashes had been. For there had been only two bursts, mixed in with the return fire, and then silence, broken by the shrill voice of the company commander from off to the left and slightly lower on the hillside, "Withdraw! Withdraw! "

Not all of the men had hit the ground voluntarily. The center of the second platoon had taken the two bursts at chest height and several bodies were thrown backward down the hill. Off to the left the machine gunner who had been conducting the class that afternoon was one of them. To the right the platoon leader and platoon sergeant tumbled backward down the hill. The platoon leader got up. The platoon sergeant did not.

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