ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The motivators for writing this book are numerous and go back for many years. Both my son, Edward D. Van Sant, and my daughter, Mary Van Sant Duncan, have been suggesting such an effort since they were children. Twelve years ago, after losing my late wife to cancer two years earlier, I was blessed with my wife, Milena, whose contributions to this book far surpass those of any other person. She also contributed four wonderful stepchildren, with whom I have been able to forge a very close bond. Each one of them, Andrea Micklem, Steve Votta, Nicole Tomiczek and Brandon Votta, as well as their spouses, have also pressed me to “get this thing done.” Milena was absolutely instrumental in producing the book. It was fi rst dictated into a tape recorder and Milena then typed a complete draft of the work. Only she understands how challenging and tedious that job was. Since then she has edited each new version and contributed every step of the way..
One other person has been enormously instrumental in helping me. That is Robert Krick, the Civil War historian. I came to know Bob when he was the Historian with the National Park Service Battlefield Parks in Fredericksburg. Bob has taken up an interest in Marine Corps history and he is now a consultant with the U. S. Marine Corps Heritage Museum in Quantico, Virginia. He has made a great contribution to the installation of the first exhibits in that impressive and fast-growing institution. When the original draft of this work was finished, Bob had just retired and had some free time. He subjected that draft to a meticulous and thorough reading and made many, many positive suggestions and corrections.
Several of the fine people with whom I have served have made significant contributions. Dick Payne, my platoon corpsman in July and August, has contributed pictures and important information. Chuck Lundeen, our 81 Mortar Forward Observer, contributed all the maps. And Major (now Colonel-Ret.) Bob Dominick read and contributed to the account of our serving together. He also contributed several pictures.
Finally, I must thank the staff of Xlibris whose skills and devotion to their work has far exceeded what I had expected.
George M. Van Sant
Colonel USMCR-Ret.
July, 2008
PREFACE
The news anchor Tom Brokaw has written a book entitled The Greatest Generation . This book recounts a number of inspiring stories about the men and women who grew up during the Depression and fought World War II. I was born in 1927 and lived through the Depression, of which I have some painful and vivid memories. I then impatiently endured high school, began college during World War II, and enlisted in the United States Marine Corps in July of 1945. I had almost finished boot camp at Parris Island when the atomic bombs brought an unexpected and abrupt early end to that war. As the reader will see, I was sent overseas anyway, had a number of adventures, returned to college, and was called back for the Korean War.
In the following account, I have tried to recount in plain terms what it was like for an ordinary young man to enter and experience the Marine Corps; its training; and, eventually, combat. In presenting this story, I have endeavored to accomplish several things.
First, I have tried to recapture the responses, the anxieties, the disasters, and the triumphs of this ordinary young man who was probably not particularly well prepared for or conditioned for the military life, especially the military life as practiced in the elite U.S. Marine Corps. Because from the very beginning, I always wondered if I really had the stuff to be a U.S. marine, and because being a U.S. marine has turned out to be a crowning achievement of my life, I have entitled this book Taking on the Burden of History: Presuming to Be a U.S. Marine.
Second, I have tried to recall and present, as vividly as I could, some of the extraordinary men and women whom I came to know during that service. Most were persons of exemplary character, and some were funny as hell. But a few were craven cowards or morally degenerate misfits.
And third, I have tried to present both the outrageously hilarious and the poignantly horrifying aspects of my experiences. It is often said that combat veterans really do not like to retell their worst experiences. That is true. When one’s memories are of total terror and of witnessing unspeakable sights, sounds, and smells, a recounting of even a portion of these experiences is supremely distasteful. Recalling these memories has been gut- and soul-wrenching for me, and many times, while writing this, I have dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing.
My primary purpose in writing down these stories is to leave a record for younger members of my family, before I forget all these stories or pass on. Maybe other young people can learn something from these stories. They describe the kind of experiences
Taking on the Burden of History
I think few Americans, with the obvious exception of our forces fighting wars and combating terrorism, have ever had. There is perhaps something to be learned from such experiences: the importance of humanity and the glories of being alive, and the depths to which humanity can sink.
A few caveats and cautions must be added at the outset. This is a personal memoir. It is written from a fi rst person point of view. Some readers who were in Korea at the same time may remember certain events differently. In writing this, I have tried to check facts as well as I could from sources available. But as von Clausewitz said, “War is accompanied by a ‘fog.’” This makes every individual’s recollections of a war different from that of every other individual’s. Inevitably, there are a very few persons the reader will encounter in these stories who, from my point of view , behaved very badly in a rich variety of ways. In some cases, I have gone to some lengths to conceal their identities. I do not want to gratuitously offend anyone. Also, there are a very few individuals whose identities cannot be concealed but who, I believe, have all passed on to streetguarding duty in heaven.
One last personal perspective must be shared. An enduring memory of life during World War II, and the half dozen or so years following it, was how often one heard variations on the word “service.” One went into the “service.” One was “in the service.” The term “serviceman” produced instant respect. We were millions of young people who were called “to serve,” and every American, civilian or military, respected that. At Parris Island, I was merging my tiny, “maggoty” little self into a mass of literally millions of other people who were “serving” the rest of our nation. I was nothing—a mere number—but what I was doing was “serving” my fellow countrymen, and humanity in general. This feeling of service was palpable for the Greatest Generation. One can still see and feel it at any gathering of old vets from WWII. The loss of this omnipresent attitude toward service is perhaps the greatest loss of our modern era.