Above the Thunder (39 page)

The second assault on Machine-gun Hill bogged down in the face of at least nine machine guns and numerous rifles covering a field so narrow that only one platoon could be deployed in the attack. The infantrymen were lying flat in the shallow washes of the trail, hugging the ground, unable to move forward or back. Fifteen yards ahead two or three American bodies hung in barbed wire barricades only a few feet from slits where bunkered machine gun muzzles spurted fire every time another American moved.

My first job was to help them get clear and withdraw. Anticipating that task, I had loaded my L-4 with smoke grenades, and just above the trees, I set up a tight orbit to the left, dropping a grenade each time around, gradually building up a fog to blind the Japanese gunners. While I was doing this, one of the officers on the ground called and said, “Kadi 8, be advised that they're firing at you with rifles every time you come around.” I thanked him but made no change in procedure—partly because there was no other way to do the job and partly because we didn't worry too much about Japanese rifle fire. They fired at us just about every day, but seldom did we find bullet holes in our aircraft, so as long as they didn't use machine guns, we didn't worry much.

Concealed by the smoke screen, the American platoon was finally able to move back. At this point, the Cannon Company took over. The 123d's Cannon Company, equipped with M-7 self-propelled 105s, had served as “Btry D” of the 122d FA Bn in New Guinea but now was back under direct control of the infantry. They had been brought to the very peak of Mount Calugong, and from there they were trained on Machine-gun Hill for direct fire. In the course of a series of bombardments and unsuccessful infantry attacks, they fired approximately a thousand 105 mm shells into the Jap positions on Machine-gun.

At some point in these proceedings, the 122d, firing from its positions on Hill 3000, also plastered Machine-gun Hill quite thoroughly, after which I dropped a bunch of “surrender” leaflets over the position. A few minutes later, FDC asked me whether I could see any of the enemy troops now that much foliage and a number of trees had been knocked down and, if so, what they were doing. I replied that I could see a number of the riflemen “hunkered down in their holes and looking at the leaflets” I had dropped. Next time I was at the CP I took a lot of ribbing about that word “hunkered.” I had to find a dictionary and prove to my colleagues that it was a legitimate word and that I had used it correctly. (Strange, isn't it, the things one remembers from a war?)

The M-7s, using delay fuse so their shells would penetrate the soil before exploding, finally cut the Japanese defense on Machine-gun Hill down to size, and the 123d continued its march along the ridge toward the east.

Smoking is a terrible habit of which I have long since broken myself, but in 1945 I had it bad. Although the L-4 had no ash receptacle and was, in fact, a rather dangerous place in which to smoke, I regularly lit up while flying. The hazards of that practice were brought home to me one day when I dropped a lighted cigarette down through the opening in the floorboards around the control stick, where there was nothing to stop it except linen cloth treated with highly flammable airplane dope. I was suddenly acutely aware that I had no fire extinguisher, no parachute, and was over rugged mountains infested with thousands of men who would gleefully cut out my gizzard if they got the chance. I sweated, but nothing happened—except that I thought I heard an ominous voice say, “That's once!”

Finishing a long and uneventful patrol one afternoon, I happened to see one Japanese soldier out in a patch of grass extending south of the ridge and east of Machine-gun Hill, a little west of Hill 4980. I figured he probably was not alone, so, without adjusting, I asked for battery one round, and four 105s burst in the grassy area. Looking the area over, I could see nothing but four shell craters, so I reported that results could not be determined. But next day one of our infantry units moved through the place and reported finding twenty-four dead Japanese, “killed by artillery within the last twenty-four hours.” The little field must have been crowded with enemy troops, lying on top of the ground and camouflaged with grass, and besides the dead there must have been a number only wounded.

Seldom do four rounds of light artillery produce such results. However, there was a place between Machine-gun Hill and Hill 4980 where Vin and I often were able to see movement under the trees on or very near the trail, sometimes including pack horses. Many times we dropped a few rounds into the spot but never were able to see positive results. But after our infantry moved through there, they reported that scores of enemy bodies littered both sides of the trail, and nearby ravines were choked with shell-torn bodies. Our battalion commander's policy of placing confidence in the judgment of his observers and giving them fire when they asked for it definitely paid off.

There was some fighting around Hill 4980, but Machine-gun Hill had been the last major obstacle to our advance to Tuba. When we reached that village, Captain Rowland's Company G was sent to have a look at Mount Santo Tomas, the dominant terrain feature southwest of Baguio. I happen ed to be watching when, on the northern approaches to the mountain, they ran into a fight in which the eighty-eight men present for duty in Company G killed seventy-five of the enemy. I had little to do but watch the exciting action on fairly open ground—and that was appropriate, since it was 26 April, my twenty-fourth birthday.

When the 123d turned to the east from Mount Calugong, another regiment of the 33d Division, the 130th, had swept around our left flank. For the final drive on Baguio, the line was farther extended to the left by elements of the 37th Infantry Division, and the entire line had swung eastward like a gate hinged on Mount Santo Tomas.

A preliminary to the final assault on Baguio was the forward displacement of the artillery. The 122d leapfrogged its batteries from Hill 3000 back down through Pugo, Agoo, and Naguilian, to positions west of Baguio and south of the Naguilian Road. The 124th FA Bn, the direct support unit for the 130th Infantry, which was now positioned on our left flank, also took new positions in the same vicinity. The 124th was commanded by a younger brother of our Uncle Bud Carlson.

Late that afternoon, I had just finished registering our batteries from the new positions when I was directed to contact the 124th on the Div Arty liaison channel to perform a mission for them. I was informed that the 124th was unable to get observers into position in time to register its batteries before dark, and they wanted me to register on their base point. They gave me map coordinates of the base point they had selected.

Checking the location on the ground, I found that it was the site of two brick apartment buildings near the eastern edge of Baguio. As I flew over, a group of Filipinos—men, women, and children—quickly formed between the two buildings, and some of them waved white cloths to indicate that they were friendly. I looked the place over very carefully and could see no sign of enemy presence.

With memories of Check Point #6 at Maffin Bay in my mind, I in formed the 124th's FDC of the facts and suggested that we register on
a rock formation on top of a prominent knoll about two hundred yards north of the apartments. The reply came back, “Negative. Register on the point originally designated.”

In my mind, I could transfer the bloody splotches from the New Guinea jungle to suburban Baguio, from the poor ignorant Melanesians to the friendly and trusting Filipinos, and I could not accept the thought of firing on these noncombatants and their homes when there was no sufficient reason for doing so. And so I again remonstrated with the FDC, urging that a different base point be used. There was a vacant knoll nearby that would serve the purpose just fine. This time, I recognized the voice that came into my earphones.

“Lieutenant, this is the battalion commander. Will you register my battalion as directed or must I report to your battalion commander that you have refused to obey my direct order?”

Through my mind flashed the thought that no one could see where I would register for the 124th and that in this case there was practically no risk of harm to American personnel from misplaced unobserved fires due to wrong registration of data. Unobserved fires in those mountains, with their rough terrain and highly variable winds, were quite unreliable at best. Anyway, a bird in the hand is worth a couple in the bush, so after only a couple of seconds delay I replied to Colonel Carlson:

“Kadi 8, ready to observe.”

I proceeded to register on the knoll, and there was no harm done to the Filipinos, no damage to the apartment buildings. I never mentioned that fact to anyone until many years later. Better yet, no one ever mentioned it to me.
²

And then our infantry was faced with the rim of the huge “punch bowl” in which lay the mile-high city of Baguio. The whole picture is quite complicated, so I'll discuss just the part in which I personally had a role and which has not faded from my memory.

I remember a line of men hugging the ground behind a fencerow just at the foot of one of the major terrain features, called Hill 24-A and otherwise known as Dominican Hill, under fire from the enemy. It was too late in the day for them to start an advance, and Vineyard and I dropped rations to them, close behind their line. A few men crawled back to retrieve them. There was a problem of water for the troops, but I don't recall how it was solved. My memory is blank until the next day.

Machine gunners of Company C, 123d Infantry, on top of Hill 24-A on the approach to Baguio (Photograph from Sanford Winston,
The Golden Cross
).

Positioned hull down near the top of Dominican Hill were five Japanese tanks in support of the defending infantry. In their immediate vicinity were a number of very beautiful residences, giving the appearance of an elite neighborhood. A tunnel on the back side of that hill—the city side—had been the location of General Yamashita's army headquarters until only a day or two earlier. My immediate task was to knock out the five tanks, employing the 155 mm howitzers of the 123d FA Bn, our general support unit.

I can't say much here in terms of artillery artistry. I adjusted on the tanks and the batteries fired while I watched and reported the results. The only significant result that I could see was the destruction and burn ing of most of those fine houses. So I was surprised when I saw
the crews of the tanks swarm out of the turrets, spread out battle flags on the front cowls, and run down the hill to the rear.

I pondered over those flags, and I still don't know why they did it. I was told later that all five tanks were immobilized and generally disabled, not able to continue the fight. The division history says that they seemed to symbolize the condition of the entire Yamashita force at that juncture.

With the tanks out of the way, I expected to see our men of the 1st Bn, 123d Infantry, come swarming up the hill, but it didn't happen. They started, but the assault seemed to fizzle in the face of the relentless small arms fire coming from tunnels scattered over the hillside. And then there emerged one of those heroes who seem to be in every outfit and who like to go bareheaded. I don't know who he was, but this time he was a dark-haired fellow. All alone, he went up the hillside, ducking swiftly from tunnel to tunnel, tossing in a grenade or two at each and following with fire from his tommy gun. To and fro across the broad hillside, always moving upward, hitting tunnel after tunnel, seeming to lead a charmed life, he breached the enemy defense that had stopped a battalion cold. I thought I was seeing a man earn the Medal of Honor, but I never heard of his getting it.

Dominican Hill was the key to the defense of Baguio, and when it fell the Americans swarmed into the mountain city.

On the left of the 123d was the 130th Infantry on Mount Mirador, and left of them, orienting on the Naguilian Road just north of Observatory Hill, was a regiment of the 37th Infantry Division, augmenting the 33d for this final assault. Out on the extreme left flank were some tanks belonging to this regiment, and I saw a couple of them parked over there on the hill north of the Naguilian Road and firing their cannon at the gray, barracklike buildings of the convent in Baguio where several nuns could be seen standing out on the lawn. There was no indication of enemy activity there, and certainly the unnecessary fire seriously endangered the nuns' lives.