“HERE THEY COME AGAIN.” Strained words project from the dark ridgeline as at least two battalions of North Korean infantry storm up toward my platoon.

My voice is cracking, as are my men.

We’ve been holding a forward perimeter, just south of the main peak of Hill 931, ahead of the rest of C Company, since our Battalion’s attack stalled early this morning.

Instead of sending reinforcements, Battalion told us to stay put.

We volunteered to hold the front. Now, even with support from artillery, mortar, and heavy machine guns, we’re about to be overwhelmed.

“STAY LOW AND FIRE!” I order, hoping my guys stay out of the crossfire between the rest of our battalion and the oncoming red tide.

“LIEUTENANT, WE CAN PULL BACK,” Sanchez, my radioman, yells toward me.

God Bless!

Battalion must have realized our position is untenable. How nice of them!

“ALRIGHT, WE’RE PULLING OUT!” I yell to the men. “FIRST SQUAD, I’LL STAY WITH YOU. SPREAD OUT AND COVER THE REST OF THE COMPANY. EVERYONE ELSE, PULL BACK.”

As my hands fumble with a belt of ammunition for our light machine gun, I order Sanchez, “Leave the set, I’ll need it.”

He climbs out of the harness while moving the Motorola behind a rock.

At least most of my boys will be able to rejoin battalion.

Men start running back toward the line, leaving first squad and me out in front of the whole unit.

“KEEP FIRING, THEN MOVE!” I yell, hoping to stave off a wholesale sprint by most of my men.

“COVER FIRE! MAINTAIN COVER FIRE!” I scream as I tap the light machine gun twice to signal to Perez it’s loaded.

Before I can even take my hand off the device, it’s already heating up from projected rounds spewing forth toward the reds.

Tracer rounds streaking overhead keep me low as I move toward the Motorola.

We need more artillery support.

“THIS IS C COMPANY. WE NEED MORE FIRE SUPPORT NOW!” I yell into the device, fingers trembling on the speak button.

“There’s too many of them!” Napier yells from somewhere in front of me.

We’re going to be slaughtered out here if we wait any longer.

“FIRST SQUAD, EVERYONE BACK TO BATTALION!” I order in the loudest voice I can muster.

I can’t let these boys die out here while the rest of the unit is on the ridge.

Thomas starts heading back, followed by Richards.

Then Wallace and Zopa pop up from an outcrop.

Where’s Pililaʻau, my BAR carrier?

“PILILA’AU, GET BACK!” I call out, not knowing exactly where he is after so much movement to cover the whole position by just a few men.

“I’ll stay LIEUTENANT!” I hear from in front of a rock outcrop about 10 meters from me.

“I SAID EVERYONE!” I yell back.

“YOU’LL NEED COVER LIEUTENANT!” he replies, fire still coming from his position.

I can order him to get out of here, but he’s right, I do need cover.

Just 20 meters ahead of my positions, massive explosions burst as our artillery finally shows up. Despite this onslaught of explosive and shrapnel, I can see reds advancing through it. Limbs flying, bodies flung about; yet they continue up the hill.

“USE WHAT AMMO YOU HAVE, THEN GET OUT OF HERE!” I order.

Back on the Motorola, I scream above the din, “PUT EVERYTHING ON US, THEY’RE STILL COMING!”

The staccato firing of the Browning automatic rifle reassures me Pililaʻau is still out there as I look over the rocks toward the ever-advancing North Koreans.

Some must have seen me as rock splinters shoot out in every direction, inches from my shoulder.

I’ve gotta move.

Sliding away from my rock, I take the Motorola with me to find another safe perch from which to call in the artillery. Looking right and left, I’m lost in time for a moment. I cannot see beyond the small black-filled night, interrupted intermittently with tracer rounds, and finally, the bright burst of explosive shells as artillery is plowed over our position.

Finding a rock about fifteen feet from my original position, I hide behind it to catch my breath.

I haven’t heard Pililaʻau since the last burst of artillery.

“YOU STILL THERE?” I yell, not knowing in which direction I should be calling to him.

“YES LIEUTENANT, BUT RUNNING LOW ON AMMO FOR THE BAR,” he replies from somewhere in front of me. I can’t make it out in the darkness.

“PULL BACK NOW!” I order into the darkness.

More lightening, like bursts of artillery, with the accompanying crash of thunder, as round after round lands among the onrushing red tide. Bullets again start striking near me. Tracer rounds as long white perfectly straight lines, streak across the night, shattering rock near my head.

Shit, I must move again!

“I’M MOVING AGAIN, GET OUT!” I scream into the ether as I run back toward where I think the rest of the unit is holding the line.

During my ascent up the slope, an unstoppable crescendo of rounds striking rocks and dirt streams forth from all directions.

Both sides must be shooting at me!

Just twenty meters away from where I think our line is, the dark outline of dug-in soldiers is illuminated by the tracer rounds following me up the slope.

“THIS IS LIEUTENANT HAGAR, DON’T SHOOT!” I scream in an almost failing voice, hoping my guys can hear me above explosive artillery rounds landing nearby.

“GET HERE!” someone yells from in front of me.

Yes, they heard me!

“HAS PILILA’AU GOTTEN BACK YET?” I ask all as I jump into a dugout.

“Lieutenant, he’s not only not come back, but look,” Zopa replies, pointing back out toward where the artillery is bursting. By the light of explosive rounds, I can make out a single man throwing grenades toward the onrushing Koreans.

DAMN IT, HE DIDN’T GET OUT OF THERE!

“GIVE HIM COVER BOYS!” I order, not knowing how many men heard me.

Flashes of artillery keep his silhouette visible as we fire all around him. From just in front, behind, and to his sides, I can see Korean soldiers thronging, thrusting, and thrashing at him.

Within reach lays an unused rifle, so I pick it up.

“FIRE ALL AROUND HIM!”

Firing tirelessly to his left I see him pick up rocks to throw.

He’s out of ammo and grenades.

“KEEP FIRING!”

Pililaʻau pulls out his trench knife and lunges at a Korean soldier as a new set of explosive rounds lights up the whole face of the hill. Revealed by the explosion, a mass of Korean soldiers flows like a wave toward us, except in the area where Pilila’au’s fighting them off tooth and nail as an island in a sea.

His silhouette crumples, as if hit by a bullet in the mid-section.

He’s down!

Then the mass of Koreans continues forth over where he was fighting. Another round of bright explosive bursts reveals a Korean standing over something, bayonet in hand, stabbing at the ground.

He’s gone.

*****

 

Herbert Kailieha Pililaʻau

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herbert_K._Pililaau

 

On September 17, 1951 Company C, 1st Battalion, 23rd Infantry Regiment, 2nd United States Infantry Division was ordered to take Hill 931 near Pia-ri, Korea. After the attack stalled at the ridgeline south of Hill 931 and north of Hill 854 a platoon of Company C was ordered to hold a forward position while the rest of the Company rejoined the main body behind the ridge. At around 10:00 p.m. two battalions of the 13th Infantry Regiment, 6th Division, Korean People’s Army, began a concerted attack on the American position. The North Korean attack overwhelmed this small force, compelling them to retreat to rejoin the company. Private First Class Herbert Kailieha Pililaʻau’s squad was assigned to stay back momentarily and cover the retreat. Eventually, only Pililaʻau and his squad leader remained at the platoon’s original position.

The squad leader and forward observer Lt. Richard Hagar called in artillery fire continuously ahead of Pililaʻau, trying to cover him while he moved, also calling fire on the two hilltops, while Pililaʻau continued to fight off the attack. At one point, Hagar became afraid that the artillery was too close and that he hit Pililaʻau. Hagar called out for him, and Pililaʻau said he was ok and told Hagar to keep going. After exhausting the ammunition for his BAR, Pilila’au began throwing hand grenades until those too were gone. As some of his comrades watched from their new position further down the ridge, Pililaʻau threw rocks at the attackers before charging at them, wielding his trench knife with one hand, and punching with the other. He was soon surrounded and killed by bayonet. When his platoon retook the position the next day, they found forty dead North Korean soldiers around his body.

A Native Hawaiian who was born and raised on the island of Oʻahu, Pililaʻau was a talented singer and ukulele player and an avid reader. Drafted into the Army, he briefly considered declaring himself a conscientious objector, as his Christian faith made him unsure of killing others, but decided against this idea. He was sent to Korea in March 1951. Aged 22 at his death, Pililaʻau was buried at the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Honolulu on February 26, 1952 (Section P, Grave 127). For his actions on, what would later become known as Heartbreak Ridge, he was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.

 

Medal of Honor citation

Pfc. Pililaʻau, a member of Company C, distinguished himself by conspicuous gallantry and outstanding courage above and beyond the call of duty in action against the enemy. The enemy sent wave after wave of fanatical troops against his platoon, which held a key terrain feature on Heartbreak Ridge. Valiantly defending its position, the unit repulsed each attack until ammunition became practically exhausted and it was ordered to withdraw to a new position. Voluntarily remaining behind to cover the withdrawal, Pfc. Pililaʻau fired his automatic weapon into the ranks of the assailants, threw all his grenades and, with ammunition exhausted, closed with the foe in hand-to-hand combat, courageously fighting with his trench knife and bare fists until finally overcome and mortally wounded. When the position was subsequently retaken, more than 40 enemy dead were counted in the area he had so valiantly defended. His heroic devotion to duty, indomitable fighting spirit, and gallant self-sacrifice reflect the highest credit upon himself, the infantry, and the U.S. Army.