LtCol Raymond L. Murray, a tall Texan who had earned a
Silver Star on Guadalcanal, a second Silver Star on Tawara, and a Navy Cross on
Saipan, commanded the 5th Marines.
Few things could faze Lieutenant Colonel
Murray, the 5th Marines’ commander, after his month-long experience as the
Eighth Army’s “Fire Brigade” in the Pusan Perimeter, but preparing his veteran
regiment for an opposed crossing of the Han River on 20 September proved a
daunting task. To begin with, Murray found his command post crowded with high-ranking
observers and correspondents. Each wondered how Murray would execute a crossing
of such a broad river without heavy bridging material; all offered free advice.
Murray abided these kibitzers for awhile, then cast them out.
A second situation proved more troublesome.
While Murray felt confident the 1st Amphibian Tractor Battalion could shuttle
his riflemen across in their tracked landing vehicles (LVTs then, AAVs now),
and while he was reasonably sure Lieutenant Colonel John H. Partridge, the
division engineer, could ferry his attached tanks across by using 50-foot
pontoon sections, he still knew nothing of the river—its current, shoreline
gradients, exit points. Nor did Murray know anything of the enemy’s strength
and capabilities in the vicinity of the abandoned ferry site at Haengju.
Mile-long Hill 125 on the north bank dominated the crossing. Six years earlier
Murray had led his 2d Battalion, 6th Marines, ashore at Saipan under direct
fire from Japanese guns occupying the coastal hills, and he had no intention of
repeating that experience here.
Murray asked General Smith to assign
Captain Kenneth R. Houghton’s division Reconnaissance Company to the crossing
operation. Murray wanted an advance party of reconnaissance Marines to swim the
Han after dark on 19 September, stealthily determine any enemy presence, and
then signal the remainder of the company to cross in LVTs. Murray then expected
the company to man a defensive perimeter to cover the predawn crossing of
Lieutenant Colonel Robert D. Taplett’s 3d Battalion, 5th Marines.
Taplett considered the plan too ambitious.
The Reconnaissance Company had the heart, he believed, but not the numbers (127
strong) to cover the sprawling high ground along the river. No one knew
anything in advance about the possibility of enemy presence in strength along
the far bank. Taplett quietly ordered his staff to draw up contingency plans
for the crossing.
The North Koreans had not ignored the
former ferry site. Aware that the Marines would likely cross the Han soon, the
NKPA deployed an infantry battalion in the underbrush along Hill 125. Their
camouflage discipline proved excellent. The Marines did not detect their
presence throughout the afternoon and evening of the 19th.
After dark, Captain Houghton led 14
swimmers across the 400- yard-wide river. An ill-timed artillery mission set
fire to a house in Haengju village, exposing the men in their final approach to
the north bank. Technical Sergeant Ernest L. Defazio complained the blaze “lit
up the place like a Christmas tree,” but nothing stirred. Houghton dispatched
four men to check for signs of the enemy on Hill 125, then sent an exultant but
premature message to Murray: “The Marines have landed and the situation is well
in hand.” Houghton also radioed his executive officer to launch the balance of
the company in its nine LVTs.
So far, so good. But few sounds attract
more attention on a quiet night than the sudden revving up of nine pairs of
Cadillac V-8 Amtrac engines. The noise seemed enough to wake the dead, and
abruptly the NKPA battalion on Hill 125 opened a vicious fire against the
approaching LVTs and Houghton’s small group, now dangerously backlit by the
burning building.
Second Lieutenant Philip D. Shutler
commanded the second platoon of the Reconnaissance Company, his men divided
between two LVTs that nosed into the river in column. Young as he was, Shutler
had already been in tight spots. He had spent the month of August making night
raids from USS Horace A. Bass (APD 124) in the Sea of Japan against the North
Korean coastline, his Marines teamed with Underwater Demolition Team 1.
Crossing the Han was a dissimilar experience, he later recounted. “Amphibian
tractors were hardly stealthy vehicles,” Shutler recalled. “We received enemy
fire as soon as the vehicles entered the water. You could hear machine gun
rounds plinking against the armored cab. Mortar rounds, possibly from our own
‘four-deuce’ tubes, were exploding in the river.” In the chaos some LVTs became
stuck in the mud near the far shore, others veered away. Captain Houghton
sprang into the river to rally the vehicles toward the landing site. Mortar
rounds landed in the water near him; the concussion from one near miss knocked
him out.
Lieutenant Shutler could see none of this
from the crowded troop compartment of his lurching LVT. He scrambled topside,
discovered to his horror that the vehicle had turned upstream, broadside to the
NKPA gunners on Hill 125. He whacked the driver jumped into the waist-deep
water, and attempted to guide the vehicle directly ashore. He saw no sign of
the advance swimmers.
At this point someone passed the word to
abort the mission and return to the south bank. Five LVTs returned, leaving
four stuck in the mud along the far shore. One of these contained Captain
Houghton’s unconscious body. Other Marines were missing. Shutler found one of
his troops had died of wounds in the confused melee. The crossing had failed.
When Technical Sergeant Ernie DeFazio
discovered his captain missing he promptly led a swimmer team back across the
river. They rescued Houghton and his radio operator, retrieved two of the stuck
vehicles and restored more than a bit of the company’s honor.
But the night was nearly spent, the enemy
occupied the crossing site in considerable strength, and every VIP in the
theater—including General Douglas MacArthur—had announced their intentions of
observing the morning crossing. As assistant division commander, Brigadier
General Edward A. Craig frankly observed: “The eyes of the world were upon us.
It would have looked bad for the Marines, of all people, to reach a river and
not be able to cross.”
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