I was a Private E-2 in the US Army in 1951, just out of my basic training, and had just boarded a troop ship in Seattle headed for Korea with a stop off at Camp Drake at Yokohama in Japan. An announcement on the PA said that Special Services was conducting auditions for musicians and entertainers for a show. Volunteers must report immediately. I ventured forth and was accepted as a drummer with the band. I was their only volunteer who played drums. We had a fantastic tap dancer, the only Afro-American in the show and we called him “Taps and when he suggested a couple of songs to the piano man and showed me some places for stops and drum breaks, it was no time until we had two really great numbers. I really worked hard with him and learned a lot. We hit it off and enjoyed working together and did several wonderful shows on the ship. I lost track of Taps when we disembarked at Yokohama. He was a medic, a specialist. I was back on the ship the next day and when I got off at Inchon, South Korea, they lined a bunch of us up and a sergeant walked down the line writing a big 1 on our helmets. We soon learned that we were all assigned to the First Cavalry Division as replacements as combat riflemen. The Cav had sustained tremendous casualties and we were shipped north by truck and then train to the front lines. I was assigned to Able Company, Seventh Cav. Regiment. We went out on patrols on various hills north of the main line coming under some mortar fire but no real engagement with the enemy; but then on November 7th we were ordered to attack Hill 200 occupied by the enemy.
There was a lot of confusion. At the last moment I was ordered to go forward carrying ammo for a machine gunner. After we’d fired all our ammo he suggested I go forward and catch up with our platoon. I’d only gone a hundred yards or so when I tripped on a root or something. I fell forward and as I hit the ground I heard a mortar explode just above me. If I hadn’t tripped, I figured, I would have been dead. I got up and began to run further up the hill and a medic stopped me as I passed him. “Hold it buddy” he shouted at me. “You are bleeding bad.” I didn’t realize I had been hit. He stuffed a mess of padding up my butt area and said, “Go on back to the Aid Station!” As I started to head back, he said, “And take that guy back over there a bit with you. Help him. He has a leg wound.” I found the guy with the bad leg and together we limped back to the Aid Station. We’d gone just a couple of hundred yards, had quick exams and then were taken in a jeep. Eventually, I was put on a train that went through Won Dung Po and on to Taegu General Hospital. They treated me for a couple of minor shrapnel wounds in my left buttocks. I had a lot of pain but the first couple of days I could get up and walk to chow but on the third day the pain got so bad I could barely walk. I was lying on my bed and this Afro American medic walked over to my cot. I didn’t take a close look at him until he yelled “Hey Man! Art. How you doing?” I looked up and realized that it was Taps, the dancer from the troop ship. As we slapped hands I said, “The pain is getting so bad I can hardly walk to chow.” He looked at my chart and said, “Art, they are planning to send you back into combat tomorrow?” He thought for a moment then said, “Come with me. I want the Captain to take a look at you.”
Walking hurt but I was so happy seeing Taps that I didn’t complain. Taps took me right into the exam room and told the Captain about my pain. The Captain began to examine me. Then he had me drop my drawers and bend over and spread cheeks. I did as the Captain said. “Oh, my God, we missed that!” The Captain ordered a litter. I laid down on it and two medics picked me up and carried me to the nearby exit and aboard a hospital plane that was almost filled with wounded G.I’s. I thanked God and Taps too as we said goodbye. Our plane flew from Taegu, South Korea direct to Kobe Japan and I was taken to Kobe General Hospital where I had surgery. I was at that hospital for several days as we received more casualties from our outfit.
Just before Christmas I learned that our Regiment had been pulled out of Korea and shipped to Sapporo in Northern Japan. When I was released, first from the hospital and then from a week’s rehab at Nara, Japan I was shipped back with what remained of my old unit, now at Sapporo. New replacements were coming in every day.
I figured running into Taps had saved my life.
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