Cainhoy Peninsula veteran among the 'Chosin' few

Memories of grueling Korean Battle 65 years ago still fresh

Inside Jack Haffeman’s office at his Nelliefield Plantation home, his days as a U.S. Marine are well documented.

“I enlisted in the Marine Corps (as a reservist) when I was a sophomore in high school, when I turned 17,” he said. “I love the Marine Corps.”

On a recent December morning, Haffeman, now 84, sat proudly amongst the red and gold emblems of his military past - a circular rug on the floor with the Marine Corps logo, a banner of Marine battles on the wall, bookcases lined with photos and other mementos.

But a shallow wooden box with a glass cover has perhaps the greatest story to tell. Inside, several medals and ribbons are prominently displayed, among them a Purple Heart for Haffeman’s valiant service during the Korean War. It’s been 65 years this month since he earned the award, an honor bestowed to military members wounded or killed in action. But he remembers it like it was yesterday - the bitter cold from a vicious battle that chilled him to the core, the moment a bullet tore through his arm and nearly cost him his life, and the haunting, frozen faces of those lost.

“Every December, I reflect on that,” he said, pausing to look away in the distance, “and the faces of the people I worked with and fought with.”

Haffeman is one of about 23,000 U.S. service members who took part in the infamous Battle at Chosin Reservoir in November and December of 1950. On December 10, he and several other Chosin veterans shared their stories at a special symposium at Patriot’s Point aboard the U.S.S. Yorktown. Known for its devastatingly cold temperatures and blizzard-like conditions, the Chosin engagement was brutal on all fronts. Adding to the weather conditions, U.S. troops were fiercely out-numbered by about five to one.

Haffeman and his young fellow reservists had been called into action, just after his high school graduation, to replace servicemen wounded in combat in South Korea, where communist North Korea was launching an invasive attack. Led by General Douglas MacArthur, U.S. forces were there as part of a NATO effort to assist the South Koreans. It would be Haffeman’s first assignment - and he was more than ready to go.

“I was gung-ho,” he said. “I was ready for it. We were all warriors. But we didn’t know what we were in for.”

About 2,000 reservists, Haffeman among them, boarded a coal-fired steam locomotive and traveled across the country from New Jersey to Camp Pendleton, California. Due to the urgency of the situation, they skipped the typical boot camp training and instead did an “express” course to get them prepared as quickly as possible. They left the marine base on a ship from a port in San Diego, bound for Japan. Once there, they boarded another vessel for Wonsan Harbor, North Korea, where they would be tasked with moving into the mountainous countryside towards Chosin Reservoir to push back the enemy.

“They gave us warm weather clothing, even a pair of sunglasses,” Haffeman said. “We had parkas and we had down sleeping bags.”

Haffeman also had long johns, a cotton shirt, a wool shirt, two pairs of socks and a field jacket. But none of it would be enough to protect him from the Arctic-like cold he was about to experience.

“Every day, the temperatures got worse,” added Haffeman. “It was snowing and the wind was blowing. It was just a white-out. You couldn’t see. Then your house was on your back, your shelter-half and your sleeping bag. And there was no place to get warm.”

They met up with the 1st Marine Division in Hungnam, North Korea. Haffeman was assigned to the 7th Marine Regiment, 3rd Battalion, Howe Company. The troops hit what they called “harassment fire” from the North Koreans along the way, but nothing too troublesome. The weather, however, continued to be a formidable opponent, preventing them from digging fox holes due to the frozen ground, continuously freezing their food and canteen water, and damaging their extremities with frostbite.

“Survival was the biggest thing…survival of the weather,” said Haffeman.

He remembers getting word on Thanksgiving that some field stoves had been set up to prepare dinner for the troops.

“They gave me some turkey, some sweet potatoes, green beans, a piece of fruit cake and an apple - and then they poured hot gravy over all of that. But by the time I found a place to sit, the edges of the gravy were already crystallizing in ice. So you had to eat pretty fast!”

On the night of November 27, after a grueling journey to the Chosin Reservoir, a new enemy emerged unexpectedly. The Chinese had become increasingly concerned as the U.S. troops approached their border. They responded by sending several massive armies, totaling an estimated 132,000, over the Yalu River and into North Korea. Unbeknownst to Haffeman and his fellow troops, the Chinese had them surrounded.

“All of a sudden we were just getting ready to go to sleep, because we had been on the road for a long time, and we heard some bugles and some cymbals and a lot of gunfire. The Chinese had been crawling up (the hills) like ants. It was almost a turkey shoot.”

Haffeman took his Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR) and fired off as many rounds as he could. They fought the Chinese all night long. Every now and then, U.S. forces would shoot up parachutes with flares to light up the area so they could see. Haffeman remembers a wounded marine crawling up to him in the midst of the fight to ask if he could help. He instructed him to assist in reloading his ammunition magazines, but the soldier’s hands were frostbitten because he had lost his gloves.

“I gave him the glove and mitten on my right hand,” said Haffeman. “And I took an old sock and slid it onto my hand. And that’s what I used in battle.”

They continued the fight, carrying their wounded and dead off the hill throughout the ordeal. Finally, at about four or five o’clock in the morning, everything went quiet. Haffeman, who was laying on the ground in battle-ready position, felt his platoon leader’s boot tap him from behind.

“He put his finger to his lips and motioned for me to come,” said Haffeman. “I had been laying on the ground. There was a lot going on, so finally when we got up it was hard to walk. My feet were frostbitten and my hands were frostbitten.”

Haffeman and his troop members were instructed to move. An eerie gun powder haze filled the air as they made their way down the hill to join the other U.S. units. Years later, in a speech he gave at the Marine Base on Parris Island, Haffeman would describe seeing the valley strewn with hundreds and hundreds of Chinese bodies, frozen solid, and some “still in a fighting pose.” It was a sight, he said, he would never forget.

Nor would he forget the life-changing moment he would experience just a few days later, on December 1, when he found himself the target of an unrelenting Chinese machine gun. The temperature was about 42 degrees below zero. Haffeman was engaged in a gun battle with the enemy when he suddenly felt what seemed like “thousands of bees stinging him.”

“I got to within 75 yards of where the machine gun was and I got hit simultaneously here in my elbow,” said Haffeman, pointing to a long scar in the bend of his left arm, “and the butt of my rifle.”

His rifle exploded into pieces and Haffeman’s body was thrust up into the air and slammed to the frozen ground.

“I didn’t think I was unconscious, but I was in shock,” he said. “…The machine gun fire was still hitting the snow in front of me!”

Haffeman quickly realized he could no longer use his weapon. He took the glove off his left hand and blood poured out from his arm. A corporal checked to see if he was okay, took his ammo and grenades, and directed him to a nearby lieutenant for help. Haffeman rolled over a few times and gingerly made his way to his platoon leader, who was behind a large rock busily running ground support operations. Another serviceman came up to the scene and rendered aid to Haffeman. With fighting continuing all around them, he cut through his field jacket and clothing to reveal the wound. Using a spare pair of Haffeman’s raw hide shoelaces and a branch off a bush, he made a tourniquet.

Haffeman, weaponless and weak from loss of blood, was instructed to get to the command post down the hill. The cold air continued its merciless attack, so he located his pack in the snow and put on his parka. His mind began to wander - and he realized he had no feeling in his arm.

“I was afraid to look at it, because I felt like it was just hanging by a thread…And then I started thinking about the can of apricots I had in my pack. Boy, I loved apricots. Especially when they’re frozen. I said I could just crawl in my sleeping bag and just lay there - it would be nice and warm - until this fire fight was finished. And then something told me to keep going.”

Haffeman trudged through the crusty snow, grabbing on to trees, singing, talking to himself and praying. He came upon a frozen stream and crawled across before reaching an incline that led to a road.

“I did everything I could to get up the hill,” he said. “But my legs would cramp up (from the cold)….and I was bleeding out. I got to the road and I just couldn’t walk any more. I said ‘I’m just gonna die here.’ I was praying to God and said ‘I don’t want to give up! Please, help me.’”

Just then a Corsair, an American fighter plane, flew overhead and spotted Haffeman, along with the trail of blood he had left in the snow. Haffeman believes the pilot radioed to the Command Post for help.

“All of a sudden I heard this whine of a jeep tearing across this plateau right to where I was! He didn’t know if there were any Chinese around or if they were going to try to kill him. He had a partner with him, and they stopped the jeep, jumped out and threw me in the back.”

Haffeman was brought to a medical tent at the Command Post, where a cast made from chicken wire was placed on his arm. After a brief stay in the warm tent, he was placed outside.

“They laid me on a big mound of hay, took a tarp and covered me, except for my face - and it’s snowing,” said Haffeman, looking up, picturing the scene as if he could still feel the snowflakes on his lips.

They next day, Haffeman would join in a military convoy that would be part of one of the most dramatic accounts of the Battle at Chosin Reservoir. The 1st Marine Division and remnants of an Army task force from the 7th Infantry Division made a 74-mile fighting retreat, along with their wounded and dead, to rejoin other U.S. forces at the harbor at Hungnam. According to a fact sheet on the battle provided by Patriot’s Point, the troops encountered a gauntlet of road blocks and enemy attacks on a narrow 14-mile mountain pass they called “nightmare alley.”

“There were a lot of walking wounded next to us,” said Haffeman. “I just felt sorry for those guys, walking in the snow along the vehicles. When a vehicle would stop, they would lean against the vehicle and go to sleep…It was freezing cold.”

Breakout skirmishes were also common, and Haffeman, still battling his own wounds, would take up his weapon to fight.

“I cradled the gun on my arm and fired to keep us protected,” he recalled. “…Mostly when you fired a weapon, they were a good distance away so you never saw their faces. After they tried to overrun us, and were climbing back over the hills, we were peppering them.”

Eventually, Haffeman was taken to a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (MASH), where he remembers seeing a man standing at the top steps wearing an apron drenched in blood. He put a tag around Haffeman’s neck indicating the type of wound he had, and the young marine was ushered inside. The next day he would have surgery on his arm, which had swelled to the size of a football. He later learned he had blood poisoning and gangrene, but the surgeon was able to repair most of the damage.

“He said ‘You’re gonna have a stiff elbow for the rest of your life,’ remembered Haffeman. “I said, ‘That’s okay. I’m alive.’”

Haffeman was later flown to a U.S. base in Hawaii. In addition to his arm wounds, he lost his finger nails and toe nails, as well as the tips of his toes, to frostbite.

Today, more than six decades after his ordeal in North Korea, he remains thankful for his many blessings, among them a family that includes his wife, June, four children and their spouses, 10 grandchildren, and three great grandchildren. Although the time he served in the Korean War is perhaps the toughest experience of his life, it is one he does not regret.

“I’m glad it’s over,” he added. “But I’m glad I went through it, because I learned a lot about myself, and about other people.”

And memories of Chosin Reservoir and his fellow marines are never far from his mind.

“It’s a brotherhood,” he said. “You think of the other marines. You had to cover their backs and they covered yours…Never a day goes by that I don’t think about it. I belong to an organization called ‘The Chosin Few.’ This is a brotherhood that you can’t join. You had to be there.”

Daniel Island Publishing

225 Seven Farms Drive
Unit 108
Daniel Island, SC 29492 

Office Number: 843-856-1999
Fax Number: 843-856-8555

 

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