--Part 3--
"The soldier, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war." ----Gen. Douglas MacArthur
John Gallaspy - the Pelican, Louisiana, native -- arrived at Louisiana State University in 1948, promptly joining Sigma Chi fraternity. It was there that he met Franklinton native R. W. "Dick" Richardson and his future wife Marilyn Allard (Richardson), a Sigma Chi sweetheart. I had enjoyed a visit less than thirty minutes prior with Ms. Marilyn, my mother's close friend, in Franklinton before visiting Mr. John --- an interesting coincidence.
With regard to his college major, Mr. John admitted, "When I went down there, I didn't have the foggiest idea." But he did have a genuine interest in the military. The Battle of Pleasant Hill, a Civil War conflict, had been largely fought on Gallaspy property in Pelican. His father's brother - his Uncle John Baker Gallaspy (1895-1969) - had served in World War I. His favorite cousin had been killed by an anti-aircraft gun near the end of World War II. Known as the Ole War Skule, LSU at that time was a military school; accordingly, John joined the ROTC.
He described it as "a bunch of old soldiers, most very competent, who taught us boys to be soldiers." Going through two years of military training, John lived in the Barracks in the LSU football stadium. He received Advanced Military training during the last two years of college, earning his commission as a Second Lieutenant and serving as Company Commander. It was key that the Korean War - the invasion of South Korea by the Northern Korean People's Army - had begun in June of 1950. Mr. John put it in plain English, "Us boys were going." While it was put across as "police action," he promptly clarified, "But we were just kids."
Graduating from LSU in 1952 at age nineteen, John trained with the U. S. Army at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, coincidentally the same post where my father had graduated in a class of 25 second lieutenants ten years prior in November of 1942 (the first class of OCS graduates selected for pilot training), after which Daddy earned his wings, as a Liaison Pilot for the Artillery at the Army Air Corps Flying School in Denton, Texas. Digressing, when I was eighteen, I traveled to Fort Sill with my family for a ceremony in which my father, Colonel (ret) Cecil C. Ellzey, was entered into the Fort Sill Field Artillery Officer Candidate School Hall of Fame.
And long before that, Brigadier General Edward Stanley Ott of Mt. Hermon was there, graduating from Field Artillery School in 1925 at Fort Sill and remaining there as an instructor until 1929. In admiration, Mr. John expounded, "General Ott had a brilliant mind. His ability was very apparent. His research and experimenting came in very handy in World War II and in the less dramatic war I was in, the Korean War." More on General Ott in a future column.
Back to Mr. John, following his training - learning how to calculate the distance to a target among other things - at Fort Sill, he was sent to Fort Polk in Leesville, Louisiana, for additional artillery training.
And then, right after Christmas 1952, his father and uncle put him on a plane in Shreveport. When the first one wouldn't start - disconcerting, I would think - John got on another, an old propeller plane that flew him to California. From there he flew to Hawaii where the plane refueled and where he got a glimpse of Pearl Harbor. As Mr. John pointed out, "Still a name everyone knew." Contrast that with the Hawaiian love song that was playing in the background. Mr. John reminded me that it was the year of the waltz, with Frank Sinatra, "Ol' Blue Eyes," signing with Capitol Records in 1953.
But the song and dance were over once John arrived in Japan where he received a brief course in chemical warfare. From there, he took a boat to Korea where he served as a forward observer for the artillery, a role with which I was quite familiar. My father was a reconnaissance pilot, flying ahead of, and directing, artillery fire during World War II. Mr. John explained that they were still doing observation from the air in Korea. While dangerous, it offered a superior view. But John was in the trenches, which was quite treacherous, with an Infantry Company. In fact, he was in a trench the night the war ended.
The orders came down that a trench treaty had been reached, something Five-star General and newly elected President Dwight D. Eisenhower had promised in his campaign. Mr. John said the Communist Chinese, who had taken over the war for the North Koreans, were also to stop firing at midnight. He said, "We were to stop firing at 11:30. We adhered to that. I was looking out over a valley that had been a very active battlefield." The war ended July 27, 1953.
This was fortunate for the American troops, about 37,000 of whom were killed in the conflict. Many more were missing or wounded. Just before the war's end in June of 1953, Mr. John had a close call in combat - a brush with death - when a mortar round went off in his ear. The enemy force was making a terrific push to capture a mountain that would have given them an enhanced view of the Republic of South Korea. John was with the Infantry Company that supported the Company in control of the mountain. In his bunker, looking out of a small hole at the artillery fire that he was directing, he suffered the impact of a mortar - an 82mm weapon - fired by the Chinese. The force from it tossed John through the air, sandbagging the left side of his head and impacting his hearing for life.
After the war's end John stayed in Korea as part of the occupational force, until early the next year. He shed light on this time period, "Old soldiers will tell you, you have to keep troops doing something when they're an occupational force." So, John was made the Division Officer in charge of formations and marching - the Rear, MARCH, for example. His training as Company Commander at LSU came in handy. In his own words, "I had fun doing it, stayed out of trouble."
And notably, he received word from his Company Commander that he had earned and been nominated for a battlefield medal for his heroism in combat as an artillery forward observer during the Korean War. But before formal presentation of the award, John wrote that he "came home very cheerfully to the hills of Northwest La." in February of 1954. Putting things into perspective for me, he asked, "[R]emember the song, 'The last time I saw Paree?' They didn't write any of those beautiful melodies about the Republic of South Korea."
•Stay tuned for next week's part 4 as John Gallaspy registers to "read law."
