This page is created in honor of my brother, Thurman J. Nichols who served in the United States Army during the Korean War. Though only a boy of 17 years of age, he answered our Nation's call of duty and served with honor and distinction during the "forgotten war."
This is his story.
A personal account of Thurman Nichols in 1951
Shakespeare called memory” the warder of the brain,” charged with keeping an individual’s personal account of being. Whatever that means, it should be a sentry of keeping one’s personal records
After sixty years it is hard to remember many of the things that happened in details to a seventeen year old young man. The older I get the less I can remember exactly how all these events took place. I do remember that I was there and took part in these bad events. Few seventeen year olds today could handle these things and keep a sane mind in later years. The year 1951 was a year of extremes, the coldest time of my life. It was also one of the darkest times in American history for the soldiers on the Korean peninsula. Today, I blame it all on America’s hero, General Douglas MacArthur. Or was he? General Douglas Macarthur caused many American deaths in the Korean War. He wanted to push all the way to the Chinese border and even suggested dropping the atomic bomb on North Korea. He made his own rules and wouldn’t take orders from Washington and that little fault eventually led to his downfall.
President Truman called it a police action – but to us it was a battle for survival, others called it a sour little war, regardless, today it is largely forgotten. The Korean War lasted 37 months and 33686 died in just three years, while the Vietnam War lasted ten years and 54,246 Americans were killed. The Korean war had about twice the combat death rate per month as the Vietnam war, it was a short, violent, bloody struggle.
I can only remember snapshots of the things I took part in. Maybe it’s for the best. No need to relive all the horror I witnessed. For years I would wake up at night seeing all those things that a seventeen year old should not have to go through. Someone once told me to write down my personal experiences and that way I can find some inner peace. But the problem is my memory is fading fast. Some of them might not be accurate. One thing I will never forget is how cold it was 20 degrees below zero and no shelter. Dead bodies froze solid within hours after death. Why would they send troops all the way to the Manchurian border in the coldest winter? Beats me.
Now I will try to relate some of the things I so remember that horrific days and nights. My squad was in a bunker on the side of a steep hill for maybe two days. A bunker was a cutout lined with logs. There was an opening to see out about two feet. Inside you could hardly move around. We were dirty from our head to our feet. That night we could here machine gun fires every where. You could see tracers every few seconds all around we could hear explosives. Flares were going off every few minutes. I could see nothing, but I heard every sound possible.
I could hear bugle calls and the yelling of Chinese soldiers in the distance. It was so cold, I was shaking all over from both fear and cold. We were firing our rifles as fast as we could reload. I don’t know if we hit anything or not. Machine guns were going off all around us. I don’t think any seventeen year old boys from America today can relate to that kind of fear.
All at once the world went black for me. The next thing I remembered was a medic bending over me. He said “Boy you look like hell”. He gave me a shot of something. I don’t know what. The next thing I was on a stretcher being carried somewhere, where? I don’t remember.
I do remember I was on a truck with about fifteen other guys on the retreat from Chosin Reservoir. The truck was in a long convoy snaking up a very narrow trail. There was no room to pass for the trail was two narrow to pass. All at once I heard a sharp bang. I asked what it was and someone said they had pushed two trucks over the cliff for they has stalled and was holding up the rest of the convoy. It must have been two hour truck ride. I was sent to some hospital in Seoul. They picked out the shrapnel from my my right hip and over my left eye. I don’t know if they found any more. I must have stayed there three days and the casualties were coming in fast. They must have thought I was well enough to go back to my company. I had a few bandages but they said our company medic could handle them. They issued me a new uniform and a new rifle and I hit the road to the third division headquarters.
After making it to Third Divison HQ outside of Seoul, I was told that my company had been (what was left of it) sent to KojeDo Island. I found out that ten men in my company were killed the night I got hurt and a lot more were wounded. I made my way to Puson and caught a boat to Kojedo Island.
I took the above photo on the ship on the way to Kojedo Island. Note the U.S. soldiers on the left shooting craps, while prisoners of war look on.
Unknowing what I was in for. Upon arriving there I was greeted by some of my fellow company men, they said they had heard I was dead. “Well, here I am!" I said.
I asked them what in hell are we doing here? Kojedo Island was a small island just off the coast of South Korea being used to keep North Korean and Chinese prisoners. It was a large stockade and the prisoners revolted and took over the camp. It was our job to go in and break it up into smaller groups. We had to go in with fixed bayonets and flame -throwers to get control. It was a historical event and I shall never forget it. After completion of this exercise, it was back to the front for us. Now that I am an old man, maybe I will forget all these things - I hope so.
Thurman Nichols
March 15th, 2010
