Herbert Daniel Wilson---Profile of a Marine

We were living in St. Louis, Missouri in the small brick apartment complex at 2621 South Fourth Street in the early spring of 1951, walking distance from my Father’s place of employment at International Car and Foundry.  I was not yet quite 5 years old when I first remember my uncle Herb.  But, meeting him that day left an impression and etched a scene into my impressionable brain that I still carry with me in the graying years of my own journey between the dimensions.

Properly, I met my mother’s brother, Herbert Daniel Wilson on that day.  I was tagging along behind Mother while she was doing the usual chores of the household when we both perked up at a knock on the door.  She was not expecting or prepared for who was on the other side of that portal, as evidenced by the emotion that sprang forth from her like spontaneous joy released finally from an airtight time capsule.  She cried and shook and threw her arms around the slight figure of the man standing there in full military uniform, his arm in a sling.  The spectacle was so intense, my mother crying and shaking that I was afraid, not understanding.  What was wrong with Mother?  And I put my arms around her leg as she kept her embrace with her brother, the three of us standing there for maybe a half-minute or more.

 I was relieved when my mother released her hold on the young Marine, and I could see she was happy as she whispered his name several times in succession, "Herbie, Herbie, Herbie", with all the relief and emotion a loving sister could genuinely muster. I did not know he was a Marine then, of course, but I thought he was the most impressive thing I had ever seen. And I was old enough to understand that he had been hurt in some war.

I do not have the words to properly describe the affect his countenance and the reunion of my mother with her brother had on my juvenile psyche. But it was an impressionable scene, as I had never before seen my Mother in such a state of uncontrolled emotion.  Little did I know eighteen years later, dressed also in military uniform and home from Vietnam, I would personally relive and experience the event all over again.  And for some reason, maybe more fathomable to me with the genuflection of mature years, immediately Uncle Herb’s return from Korea returned again to my thoughts with incredible clarity. 

Herbert Daniel Wilson was born November 9^th, 1928 in St. Louis, Missouri to Clarence Madison Wilson and Bessie Edith Moore Wilson.  And I begin writing this remembrance November 9^th, 2013, 85 years to the day.  I regret tremendously that I did not know him as a man.  We moved from St. Louis to Jackson, Tennessee not long after his return and distance became a factor in getting to know him better.  After my own return from military service in Vietnam to Paducah, Kentucky I would undertake career positions taking me further and further away until finally I was raising my family near the Florida Keys in his declining years.  So there is no pretense on my part to defining his character, successes and failures in civilian life, or his love of family.  I have many aunts and uncles, cousins, and family of Uncle Herb far more able and qualified to present with accuracy, exactly who he was as a person.

I regret though, that I was never able to tell him the impression he made on me.  He was on my mind, as he is every year at this time as we approach Veteran’s Day. And since I am in the process of publishing some of my memoirs as well as ancestral narratives from the Ancestry website, I felt this an appropriate time and format to make his service in the Korean War more readily known and accessible to future generations of the Wilson clan.

These are his personal notes of Korea, the Chosin Reservoir, and Koto-ri:

 The young Marine; Herbert Daniel Wilson

Sgt. Herbert D. Wilson, Recon Co. First Plt.  

I joined the Marine Corps on March 3, 1948 in St. Louis, MO., and did boot camp at Parris Island (South Carolina).  From there I went to Camp Lejune (North Carolina) where I was assigned to Recon Co. and after training the whole 2^nd Division was shipped to the West Coast, headed for Korea in 1950.  I made the Inchon Landing.  So this is my experience of the withdrawal from Koto-ri.  At the time I was a Corporal.

The last few days around Koto-ri, as everyone knows, were extremely cold.  We spent our days getting ready for the nights.  The nights would start with the bugles blowing and a lot of other noise.  We had warm-up tents inside the perimeter.  We did one hour in our fox holes and one hour in the tents.  The tents were equipped with one kerosene stove---going full blast.  There were so many guys in one tent---60 or so---that you couldn’t get close to the stove.  Those tents were packed like sardines.

As I remember it, at night we were getting what seemed like probing attacks.  If we had suffered a heavy attack, we probably couldn’t have held, because our outfit was really small---not many  men at all, probably about 100 in our section.  We didn’t have a lot of firepower---M-1’s, BARs (Browning Automatic Rifles),  and a couple of 30 cal. machine guns.

When we left Koto-ri, our platoon, 1^st Plt. Recon Co., was assigned rear guard as the Division moved out and down the road.  We had our jeeps spread out in a long line with 30 cal. machine guns.

The Chinese came at us in one huge never-ending wave.  There seemed to be thousands of them.  I remember thinking at the time that there couldn’t have been that many Chinese in the whole world.  We hit them with all the fire power we had.  There seemed to be no end to the advancing Chinese.  They were hollering and screaming like crazy.  When they were about 200 yards from us, we jumped in our jeeps and took off.  You have to remember that a lot of these Chinese weren’t soldiers at all---just common civilians (at least 50 percent).  But they had to keep coming at us because the Chinese soldiers were behind them and if they stopped running, they were shot.

Well, it didn’t take but a short while for us to catch up to the rear of the Division.  Of course, the Marines in the front were having to fight their way through the Chinese in the road---we were completely surrounded.

We had three or four tanks with us and we eventually came to a ditch that was too deep for the tanks to get across so we had our jeeps, which were were pulling trailers loaded with our gear, pull in the ditch so the tanks could go across on top of the jeeps and trailers.  Of course, that left us afoot without any gear.  We sure hated to give up our jeeps, etc.

By this time we were at the top of the pass and the Chinese were about to overrun us again.  Our tanks had turned their turrets facing the rear and were firing 88 or 90 mm guns into the side of the mountain trying to block the Chinese advancewith dirt and rubble, etc.  Just about that time one of our tanks had a tread that was frozen so myself and another Marine, Glen Kasdorf, set up a 30 cal. Machine gun in the middle of the road.  Kas was on the machine gun and I was feeding it trying  to stop the Chinese from running over the rear of the column.  We had decided, Glen and I, that if we were overrun, I would throw the ammo over the side of the mountain and he would get rid of the machine gun.  As it turned out, we were overrun, and I got rid of the ammo and started back towards our tanks which were about 20 yards from us.  About half-way back I turned around to see how Kas was doing and saw that he was playing a mad tug-of-war with some gooks who were trying to get the machine gun away from him.  He was finally able to punch a few gooks and get rid of the gun and get back to the tanks.

After we got back to the tanks my rifle wouldn’t fire (frozen-up) so I came back to the front of the tank, cracked another round in an M-1 and fired two rounds up in the air and then got a “Chewing out” from a Gunny, don’t remember his name.  He told me there were plenty of targets to fire at without firing in the air and wasting ammo.  I didn’t have time to explain my actions then because we were getting overrun on our left flank.

I went up an embankment on our left along with two or three other guys.  When I got to the top there were mortars and flares going off so I decided to find me a hole real quick---I jumped in a small depression only to see four Chinese were there ahead of me.  It didn’t take me long to get out of there---I don’t think my feet even touched the bottom.  As I look back on that, I guess they were dead---probably frozen to death, as a lot of them did.

At that time, as I recall, we were relieved of rear guard duty because we had suffered quite a few casualties so the 2^nd or 3^rd Plt. was assigned rear guard.  I eventually rejoined my outfit and walked the rest of the night until we met up with the Army.

  Herb Wilson outside of Koto-ri, and prior to the Battle of Chosin Reservoir 

All that Herb Wilson encountered could not possibly be summarized by the few short paragraphs he recalls.  Few soldiers have ever experienced anything as horrific and terrifying as the Chinese attack at the Chosin Reservoir in December of 1950.  Thousands and thousands of Chinese were screaming, blowing horns and bugles, ringing bells, as they charged Herb and the Marines that day in below 0 temperatures.  Further details of Herb’s personal actions that day are from an e-mail exchange between Herb’s sister, Mary Louise Wilson Bazzell, and the same Glenn Kasdorf mentioned in his memoirs.

E-Mail From Glenn Kasdorf to Mary Louise Wilson Bazzell

Dear Sister of Willie:  I sure do remember your brother.  On the night of Dec 10th, 1950 my position had been overrun by Chinese soldiers who were attempting to take my machine gun from me.  I had run out of ammo and your brother had gone back to a stalled tank to retrieve some for our gun.  In the meantime three "Chinks" jumped me and attempted to take my gun.  All I could do was hold onto it until help arrived.  In came "Willie"; he shot the first one who was pulling on the machine gun and the two others took off running.  I'd be happy to send you a copy of the newspaper article that appeared in the Milwaukee Journal in Dec of 1950.  Willie's name does not appear as the local news merely took the item off of the Associated Press and used the name of "the local boy does good" thinking.  However, that does not diminish the part that your brother played in saving my life.  Also I have a photo that was taken of both of us in Richmond, VA which was the last reunion that he attended.  If you will provide me with your address I will make a copy of the newspaper article as well as send you the photo.  My only regret today was that I was unable to attend his funeral in 1994.  I was still working at the time and was not notified until the night before.  You received an e-mail from Joe Gatz who was also in our squad and was a witness to the above described event.  Looking forward to your reply.  Also, I am the newsletter editor of the Korean War Recon Marines, and if you would like I will also send you our latest printing.  Semper Fi!!  Glenn

The last reunion; Herb with Glenn Kasdorf  (Far Right)

As a personal note, from experience, I would like to make sure the casual reader understands that all soldiers in all wars define the enemy in derogatory terms; We them, and they, us.  Most soldiers of any country in any war do not carry the derision into their civilian lives and it in no way defines their character or their regards for their former foes.  I will not pretend this applies to everyone that has worn a uniform, but I do believe that it applies to most.

Since I in no way am qualified, as I have stated, to know the civilian Herb Wilson, outside of the deep love and expression that I witnessed from my Mother, his brothers and sisters when his person became the subject of conversation, I will not personally offer additional insight into his complete persona.  Others are better qualified to offer those insights in another narrative.

However I know how hard it is to come to grips with things coming home from a war to the normalcy of civilian life. There was no help for men and women in Korea and even Vietnam in diagnosing and treating Post-Traumatic Stress.  Acclimation would have been hard, and stressful not just to Herb, but to family. 

The cold of Korea was unlike anything those not there could ever imagine, exceeding minus 30 degrees at times, and most veterans would suffer debilitating arthritis at some future point in their lives. Uncle Herb was no exception.

As the final anecdote to our beloved family member, the Marine and the person, are these sentiments from his friend and brother-in-law, David Richmann a week after Herbert Daniel Wilson departed this life, May 27, 1994.

A Tribute to Herb

He answered to the name of Herbert, Herb, or Herbie….To his old Army buddies he was known as “Willie”.  His brothers referred to him as Herb, his nieces and nephews called him Uncle Herbie, unless they wanted to get his undivided attention, at which point he was addressed as “Herbert”.  His children called him Dad.

To a lot of people he was special in his own way, however, it made no difference what you called him….he was the same person to everybody that he knew….a very strong, dependable family man who loved to have fun.  A very honest friend whom you could rely on.  A loving Dad who you knew you could always count on to be there when you needed him, even though from time to time he would find it necessary to give you that “Wilson Look” which conveyed the message….”That’s enough”.  He commanded a lot of respect.

Herb’s leadership qualities were recognized as far back as his days in the military where his superiors entrusted him with the rank of Sergeant.

Later, his place of employment recognized and appreciated these same qualities and skills as they offered him, on several occasions a supervisory position which would bring him more money and a place of stature in the company, however, he would always feel the need to turn them down.  His love and appreciation for “The guys at work” prevented him from being placed in an adversarial role with them.

Herb was someone who would sacrifice his own needs and feelings to help others.  He was a non-complainer, although his physical pain became so great it would sometimes bring tears to his eyes in private, however, his family never knew.

Herb loved being with his family and having fun….even though his illness required him to rest a couple of hours during the middle of the family fun.  Even though it still took great effort and sacrifice on his part, he still wanted to be part of the family and do family things.

He took great pride in his service to his employer….you could detect a little more of his dedication whenever he would mention the fact that “You should be driving an American automobile, preferably a Ford”.

He took great pride with his involvement with the U.S. Marine Corp.  In his earlier days, in combat action defending his country, in his latter days reuniting with his fellow Marines.  Again, he made great sacrifices to be with those whom he had shared some experiences what would last a lifetime.

During the last few weeks of his life, he could see from his bedroom window, up in the nearby pine tree, a mother red bird caring for her babies.  He watched every day as she would feed and nurture them.  His wish was to see the babies develop to the point that they could make it on their own….the babies are still there, however, when they do leave their Mom’s nest, he’ll still get to see them, only from a higher vantage point.

Herb was a fighter, but last Friday night, May 27, 1994 when he could fight no more, he left us….on Memorial Day weekend….the very weekend we pay tribute to those who have earned a great amount of respect.

Herbie never wanted to be a bother, didn’t want anyone to fuss over him.  When he was 18 years old, after he had joined the Marines, he came home for a few days of furlough, before being shipped overseas to fight for his country.  His family wanted to have a going away dinner and gather in his honor, to see him off, to wish him the best and to say goodbye.  However, during the activities, before anybody could notice, while everybody was busy, he quietly slipped away….because he didn’t want to say goodbye to those he loved.

Last Friday night, Herbert left us.  His family and friends, much the way he did some 45 years ago…he didn’t want to say goodbye to those he loved.  He just slipped away….however, this time there would be no more fighting.  His battle had been won.

Dave Richmann 

Uncle Herb at one of  his final Family Reunions

I beg the indulgence of my cousins Ron Wilson, Brian Wilson and Dan Maloney to conclude this tribute, Uncle Herb's nephews and fellow Marines. But, I don’t think my Uncle Herb would mind too much if , recalling that first time of our meeting and on this Veteran’s Day of 2013, if an old Sergeant of the Army’s Big Red One, 1^st Infantry Division,  takes this liberty to salute him….just once…. to say,  “Semper Fi”! 

Keith Wayne Ragan

copyright November 11, 2013 by Keith Wayne Ragan.  This document and its contents may not be published or reprinted in part or in its entirety without written consent and authorization of the author.  It may be copied or printed by family members for their personal ancestry files.