The Hill - Night Terrors

A pair of M-40 155mm Gun Motor Carriages of Battery B, 937th Field Artillery Battalion, providing
fire support to U.S. Army 25th Infantry Division, Munema, Korea, 26 November 1951.
(Source)

Sauer was nervous, not about combat, he'd seen plenty of that, but a lot of the men in this unit were very green. Most of them were new to the army, quite a few draftees among them. There were only a few WWII vets, like Hernandez and apparently the company commander. They were among the very few that had seen combat. Other than Sauer himself.

"Hey Fred, can you see anything down the slope? I swear there's someone there. Straight in front of us." Private Jeb Turley was one of those green troops.

Sauer scanned the slope to their front, he guessed that Turley had been staring at a clump of low brush about 50 meters below. "Don't look directly at something, Jeb. Look to one side or the other, if you stare at something long enough in the dark, your brain will be convinced that it's moving."

"Really?"

"Trust me, I remember my first night on the line. You get used to it." Or you died, but Sauer didn't say that out loud.

"Was that in Normandy or were you in Africa?" Turley was getting too chatty, it was nerves, but he needed to quiet the lad down.

"You need to be quiet, Jeb. Sound travels a long way at night, especially in this cold."

And in truth, it was getting colder.

"Cap, wake up." Hernandez was gently shaking Captain Paddock's shoulder. The man had been dead on his feet so Hernandez had convinced him to put his head down for an hour or so.

"Huh, where ..."

Sitting up, Paddock removed his gloves to rub the sleep from his eyes. It felt like he'd been asleep for only a few minutes, even though he figured it had been at least an hour. Hernandez wouldn't wake him unless it was important.

"What's up, Top?"

"I just got off the radio with battalion, here's our artillery concentrations for tonight. Seems we lucked out, we've got two batteries of self-propelled 155s on call."

Paddock took the proffered notebook and scanned it by the dim light of the nearby battle lamp. "Nice, this'll give the Chicoms some fits, won't it?"

"Sure will, according to ..." Hernandez paused, "Ah, shit, you hear that?"

Paddock cocked his head, he did hear it, in the distance the two men heard the tinny sound of a Chinese bugle. Followed by others.

Many others.

1LT Masterson came down the trench line, he wanted to make sure the men were ready.

"Don't fire until I give the order. Have your grenades ready. Aim at your targets."

One of the Privates looked at his buddy, "How the heck are we supposed to see what we're shooting at?"

PFC Mac McLendon just shook his head, "Don't worry Joey, just wait."

The noise emanating from the bottom of the hill was getting very loud, and closer. The bugles were unnerving to some of the new men, their sergeants kept telling them that a bugle couldn't kill them. But still ...

Sauer felt the lieutenant pat him on the back, he heard a muffled, "Stay alive, Freddy, I'm gonna need ya."

He waited, it had been a while since he'd held a rifle in his hand about to go into combat. The one he was holding had been shooting at him the last time he'd been in battle. Now he was carrying the Garand and truth be told, he really liked this rifle. But he wondered, could he still take the stress of battle?

Multiple streaks lifted into the air from behind their position, a series of muffled pops ensued, then the battlefield was lit by the strange swaying lights of parachute flares.

Sauer looked down the hill, there were scores of Chinese infantry advancing up the hill. He had the momentary thought that they would soon be swept away by this human tide. Then he settled his cheek into the stock of his rifle.

And waited.

Captain Nate Paddock was watching down the hill, shortly after the flares lit the landscape, he turned to his 1st Sergeant, "Concentration Able Foxtrot."

Hernandez spoke into the radio and within moments the screech of outgoing rounds crested the hill and began to explode on the slope below. Hernandez winced as he heard the screams over the roar of  the explosions. Men were dying out there.

Sauer heard his lieutenant bellow, "Open fire boys, let the bastards have it!"

All along the line the men opened fire, carbines and Garands popping away over the roar of the artillery. With the Chinese going to ground, or simply being blasted to atoms, the officers felt that the muzzle flashes wouldn't give much away. They did, however, keep their machine guns quiet. Those the Chinese would pay attention to.

Sauer carefully picked his targets, the first round he fired was at a man who was running up the hill, ignoring the explosions around him. Either an officer or a sergeant from the way he kept beckoning to the rear, urging his soldiers forward into the maelstrom.

Sauer couldn't tell if he'd hit the man or not as an artillery round detonated at the same time, right over the man and his comrades, as he felt the kick of his rifle.

Damn it these fellows were brave, they kept coming on, heedless of the devastation in their ranks. As the flares began to flicker out another round were sent aloft. In the flickering shadows of the dying flares, Sauer spotted another man, this one carrying a rifle.

The man looked towards the American positions, then looked back down the hill, he decided that advancing was better than falling back into the bombardment behind him. Sauer aimed, then squeezed the trigger.

This time he knew that he had killed a fellow human being. The Chinese soldier stopped in mid-stride, a look of surprise on his face, very clear in the new round of flares. Then he fell to the ground in a heap.

As Sauer looked for another target, there were many, he heard the machine guns open up. Things must be getting desperate.

1LT Masterson had decided that the damned Chinese were close enough, no grenades just yet, he'd use his machine guns to sweep the enemy from the field. As he was directing the fire of one gun, he felt a tug on his field jacket.

Then he felt an enormous weight fall upon him as he dropped to one knee. "Bobby, I'm hit."

Sergeant Bobby Winthrop turned from the machine gun, as he did so he said to the crew, "Short bursts, kill 'em all."

He looked for the lieutenant, where the hell was he? He'd heard the man yell his name As he moved back, his knee pressed into something soft at the bottom of the trench. He looked down.

"Ah Jesus, L.T."

The bugles sounded again, the Chinese were starting to fall back, they had lost too many men and their attack was breaking up into small groups of men trying to advance but mostly dying in clumps.

"Hold your fire!" the cry went up and down the line.

In the Company CP, Captain Paddock watched the Chinese falling back, he turned to Hernandez, "Concentration Baker Hotel."

Hernandez spoke into the radio. Moments later the artillery lifted and then shifted fire to the base of the hill, hoping to catch the Chinese as they tried to reinforce and regroup.

It did.

"Freddy." Sauer heard his Americanized name and turned, it was Sergeant Winthrop.

"L.T. Masterson's dead. I gotta take the platoon, take the squad, will ya?"

Sauer was puzzled by that, he thought Winthrop didn't like him, always referred to him as "that f**king Kraut."

"Me Sarge?"

"Yeah you. You're the only f**ker in the platoon with any combat experience other than me. Hell, you survived Dubya Dubya Two being on the wrong side ..." Winthrop paused.

"Jesus, Sauer, just get down to the machine gun and take charge. The guys are expecting you."

Winthrop then slapped Sauer on the shoulder and headed to the platoon CP.

The Chinese did not come back up the hill for a long while. Every man in the American line wondered, "Was that it? Is that all they've got?"

Then in the distance, well behind the Chinese lines, a number of men saw flashing lights. Some wondered what it was, the few combat veterans in the company immediately began screaming at the men to take cover.

Seems the Chinese had artillery too.