 Sergeant Bill Rowland, Age 20 Sergeant Bill Rowland, Today Sergeant Bill Rowland, 3rd Battalion, 31st Infantry Bill Rowland, from Paragould, Arkansas - we won’t hold that against him - was just another wet-behind-the-ears teenager forced to grow up fast during the epic battle of Chosin Reservoir in North Korea during the horrendously cold winter of 1950. The official record states that he distinguished himself by conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action against the enemy near Hudong-ni, North Korea. As a squad leader, he repeatedly encouraged his men and continually exposed himself to intense small arms and automatic weapons fire, inspiring his small group to maintain their positions in spite of heavy casualties and in the face of severe enemy attacks. The holding of the critical ground enabled vehicles carrying wounded to pass to safety. Sgt. Rowland’s actions were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military and for this he was honored with the Silver Star. This is his story about “How I got out of the Chosin.” On the night of 30 Nov. 1950, the last night of fighting at Chosin Inlet, Sgt. Rowland’s 57 mm Recoilless Rifle Team comprised of corporals Kirby, Lewis, Hansel, and Pvt. Snider, were occupying the same foxhole. Snider was on watch while the others tried to sleep through the bitter, crippling cold. Sudden heavy fire and thunderous enemy activity abruptly awoke everyone in the hole, except Snider who was snoring like a “big ole bull,” according to Rowland. After throwing two grenades and extinguishing a nearby group of enemy soldiers, Rowland noticed Cpl. Pete Lewis with his K-Bar knife holding Pvt. Snider by the collar with the intentions of cutting his throat. Talking a blue streak, Rowland convinced Lewis to let cooler heads prevail, rationalizing, “Pete, we need all the ‘cannon fodder’ we can get.” About an hour later, a haunting noise came from outside and in front of their position. “Mother, come and get me I’m dying,” and “I’m going to kill you G.I.” According to Rowland, it was needless to say that if anyone out in front of the hole moved, they were promptly shot. Daylight revealed fourteen enemy dead in proximity of Rowland’s foxhole with many more somewhat further out. “We had a pretty good night,” the sergeant recalled as dawn rose over the Inlet. Enabled by the emerging daylight, Sgt. Rowland noticed that a house some 600 yards to the south was loaded with Chinese snipers. After firing a few rounds of WP into the structure it was soon set ablaze. Suddenly, two Chinese burst out and took cover behind a close-by embankment. Rowland ran his sight up to sixteen clicks and told his men, “Just let another one try that.” After several minutes had passed, a Chinese soldier broke from the house and sprinted towards shelter. Rowland jerked his rifle up and all in one motion fired, hitting the man square in the head, causing his heels to come up to his own eye level. The man was still alive, so for good measure, Rowland pumped a few more rounds into the twitching body. One GI said, “Damn sergeant, a few more shots like that and the war will be over.” Soon thereafter another firefight took place and one of Rowland’s men was hit foolishly trying to retrieve a souvenir. At about 10:00 A.M., Rowland’s C.O. said Task Force Faith was going to attempt to fight its way out to the 1st Marine Division just fourteen miles south at the North Korean village of Hagaru-ri. Departure time was set for 1300 hours. Everything that couldn’t be carried off was ordered destroyed. There were a few 60-mm mortar rounds left, so Rowland and others began lobbing shells over the hill into enemy positions. For some odd reason, an officer asked the group to quit shelling. The puzzling act of that officer almost cost Rowland his life while at the same time saving it. Rowland vacated the mortar position for a shack where men were warming up c-rations. As he bent over to heat a can of beans and franks, a mortar round hit the thatch roof directly above his head, blowing him across the stall. His back was burning and hurting like hell, but for some reason there was no blood; likely due to the sub-freezing cold. About that time he looked to his right and noticed Platoon Sgt. Richards holding his left arm that had been cut in half by shrapnel. The wound was so massive the blood gushed freely. Rowland, being closest to the exploding shell, had gotten very lucky. Just how did the officer that had stopped Rowland’s prior mortar shelling save the sergeant’s life? The foxhole they had vacated five minutes earlier had taken a pointblank hit. Had they remained at that position, all would likely have been killed. At that moment, what was left of Rowland’s I Company was assigned to rearguard action as Task Force Faith organized for the breakout south. Despite a wayward napalm accident in the beginning, the breakout was successful, and Col. Faith’s beleaguered troops moved slowly down the narrow road toward safety. After a few miles of horrendous touch and go fighting and in the face of withering enemy fire, the convoy ground to a halt at the foot of Hill 1221, just north of the village of Hudong-ni. This was the first time Rowland encountered Maj. Harvey Storms. He had seen Storms from time to time during the previous days of fighting, but didn’t really know the man. What followed left Sgt. Rowland amazed and in awe of the officer he had just met for the first time. Afterwards, Rowland exclaimed with great passion, “The major should have gotten a half dozen Congressional Medals of Honor for his actions at the Battle of Chosin.” Maj. Storms, knowing that Hill 1221 had to be taken or everything was lost, beckoned Rowland and his men to follow him in an assault on the ominous obstruction. But each time they tried to leave the safety of their position they were besieged by heavy enemy fire. Finally Rowland and a private named Murray decided they had to take a chance. As they dashed from cover, the two men saw Maj. Storms sliding down the hill on his rear-end. The abundant snow and ice made for terrible footing but easy sliding. Rowland couldn’t help but notice a number of bullet holes in the right side of Storms’ chest. Nonetheless, the major refused help. In fact, he ordered Rowland’s men to assist him in knocking out a critical roadblock on the south side of Hill 1221. Issuing orders to attack, Storms said to the young group, “You have fought a good fight, now you kids go over the hill and knock out that roadblock. I’ll go down and get the rest of them.” Storms moved out and so did Rowland’s men. Afterwards, Rowland recollected the last of Maj. Harvey Storm’s heroics. “Major Storms must have had twelve bullet holes in his field jacket. We asked if we could help him in any way, but he refused with no sign of complaint.” Amazed at this, Rowland reflected, “His answer separates men from wannabes.” Rowland’s last thoughts were, “Major Storms knew he was dying. I knew he was dying, but not one whimper came from his lips. DAMN WHAT A MAN! Without Storms leading the way, I doubt if any one of us would have made it out.” In response to Maj. Storm’s orders, Rowland and Murray had not made it far up the hill when they stopped to catch their breath. Enemy fire opened up from a bunker up the ridge and to the right. Murray was hit fatally in the chest. Rowland’s only thought was, “God saved me.” It was getting dark when Rowland heard two men talking close by. It was Capt. Earle Jordan of M Company, and a big, burly unknown mgt. sergeant. Rowland found it odd that Jordan was strangely weaponless, subsequently giving him his own .45 pistol that he carried for emergency purposes. Rowland asked for help carrying Murray, but was ordered to leave him. In his own words, Rowland thought, “What can a staff sergeant do? Shoot them or obey orders.” As he moved south with the others, at Hudong-ni, the former sight of Capt. Robert Drake’s tank command, Rowland stumbled across a wayward but still running tank. He was so tired, hungry, and cold he crawled onto the tanks cooling vents and soon fell sound asleep. He doesn’t recall how long he was out, but he “must have jumped four feet when awakened by enemy fire.” After the firing stopped, he found the driver still alive and asked what happened to his crew. The driver said they were all dead from carbon monoxide poisoning. Insisting they move forward, Rowland perched himself on the front of the vehicle in order to guide the driver home. As the tank moved backward they suddenly heard yelling, screaming, and cursing. An officer in his jeep was frantically blowing his horn as the tank was about to run him over. Rowland yelled, “Get the hell out of the way, we’re moving this tank.” The officer quickly complied and Rowland proceeded to guide the tank to the safety of O.P. Smith’s Marines at Hagaru-ri. That night Rowland and his newfound friend spent the night safe and under the warmth and comfort of the 1st Marine Division’s tents and blankets. They had survived the impossible. In reference to the awarding of his Silver Star, Rowland commented, “I was just trying to stay alive.” |
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