thedrifter
02-04-07, 03:39 AM
John Clayton: Claremont doctor's one of 'The Chosin Few'
By JOHN CLAYTON
Union Leader Staff
4 hours, 37 minutes ago
MUCH LIKE other veterans of the Korean War, Dr. Robert Shoemaker knows how most Americans have derived their impressions of the so-called "police action" that claimed the lives of more than 30,000 US soldiers, sailors, pilots and Marines.
"It's from M*A*S*H*," he said.
That's why the retired orthopedic surgeon from Claremont felt compelled to write a book about his experiences as a 26-year-old surgeon with the 7th Marine Regimental Combat Team in Korea. It's called "A Surgeon Remembers; Korea 1950-1951 and the Marines."
Dr. Shoemaker's book is not without humor, mind you -- it takes a rather wry individual to admit that his first operation as a Navy surgeon was the removal of an ingrown toenail on board a troop transport -- but more than laughs, he wanted to leave readers with a reminder of what transpired in 1950 in a frigid, god-forsaken part of the globe called the Chosin Reservoir.
He's one of "The Chosin Few."
That's what the survivors of Chosin have chosen to call themselves.
It's an exclusive fraternity, and with the passage of time, its one whose membership is in rapid decline. For those who belong -- Marines, in particular -- those who compose the "Chosin Few" are living testament to the resiliency of American warriors.
By November of 1950, acting in defense of South Korea, U.S. Army and Marine units had driven invading North Korean troops back across the 38th parallel, and they stayed on the chase. The goal was to push the invaders back to the Yalu River -- the natural border between Korea and China -- and that mission had brought the American and United Nations forces to the Chosin Reservoir.
The frozen reservoir split the UN forces.
That fact was not lost on the allied commanders, but the grunts in uniform -- even doctors like Robert Shoemaker, who was with the 3rd Batallion, 11th Regiment -- did as they were told.
"Since we were west of Chosin, we went five miles up a westward, one-lane dirt road to a hillside where we had to set up our aid tent in the dark and cold on November 25," he wrote. "At 8:30 the next morning, the temperature was eight below zero."
From his dark and frigid aid tent in Yudam-ni, Dr. Shoemaker couldn't know that Chinese Communist troops -- 70,000 by some estimates -- were encircling the U.S. forces. On Nov. 27, after initial, tentative probing, the piercing sound of whistles, horns and bugles signaled the onset of a nighttime attack by the Chinese, who came in human waves.
"An estimated 70 wounded were brought to the 3-11 aid station during that first night and early morning without any warning," he said, "and a pyramidal tent -- with me as the only physician and four corpsmen -- could hardly be described as a complete trauma center.
"Most had been injured by small arms-fire," he added, "but there were also many who had been injured by grenades. We tried to concentrate on areas related to loss of blood, but we were unable to do anything to replace the blood loss in the dark and cold."
He couldn't counter the blood loss because his plasma was frozen, and since the nighttime temperatures were approaching 30-below, the weather had become an enemy to rival the Chinese.
"The wounded were coming in so fast, we had a problem finding a place for them so they wouldn't freeze to death before we could treat them," Dr. Shoemaker said. "We had some bales of straw that we spread out on the ground, and between that and throwing ponchos on top of them while they were lying outside on the ground, it was all we could do to prevent frostbite."
Things weren't much better for Marines who required immediate care.
"We had small syrettes of morphine, but not much of that," he said. "You had to keep them in your mouth to keep them from freezing. Other than that, we had Novocaine."
The bad situation only got worse, as gunfire began to resound in the nearby hills.
"We were told to expect Chinese in our immediate area," he said. "I was told to carry my .45 pistol with me (and) it became necessary to triage the wounded; who would survive ... and who would not likely survive, no matter what could be done for them.
"The situation was," he said, "and still is, a heavy burden to bear."
The tactical burden on the command staff was a heavy one as well, as plans were formulated on the fly for the withdrawal of 15,000 U.S. troops.
It wasn't so much a withdrawal as it was an extension of the battle, and for those who considered it a retreat, Maj. Gen. O.P. Smith, commander of the 1st Marine Division, uttered a remark that -- apocryphal or not -- has become the stuff of Marine Corps lore.
"Retreat? Hell, we're attacking in a different direction!"
The direction was south.
The goal was Hungnam Harbor and the only path from Yudam-ni to the Sea of Japan was a one-lane supply road called the MSR -- Main Supply Route -- that ran for 78 miles through mountainous terrain that was crawling with Chinese troops.
Fighting their way out was a 13-day ordeal and many, especially those who survived it, consider it the greatest feat of American arms ever accomplished.
In the years that followed, Dr. Shoemaker became an accomplished orthopedic surgeon and more than 50 years after the fact, he knows that ordeal did much to shape his approach to medicine.
"The Yudam-ni confrontation helped to teach me that all who came to my care as a doctor should be treated as family," said the former Navy doctor, who takes great joy in rattling off the names of the many local hospitals where he has put his skills to the test.
"One of my claims to fame," he laughed, "is that I've pinned hips at Claremont, at the old Mary Hitchcock Hospital, at the Newport Hospital -- now closed -- at New London Hospital, at the old Windsor Hospital now replaced by Mt. Ascutney, at the Alice Peck Day Hospital in Lebanon, at Springfield and Rockingham in Vermont and at the VA Medical Center in White River Junction."
It's the kind of career he dreamed about long ago.
"I have to say the snow-covered mountains around Chosin reminded me of New England in the winter," he said. "Blue, cold, clean. It looked like it could have been New Hampshire ..." he added, and as his voice trailed away, I knew the comparison ended with the view.
His view of what happened at the Chosin Reservoir is now a matter of record.
It's in the book called "A Surgeon Remembers; Korea 1950-1951 and the Marines," and it's available through Trafford Publishing at www.trafford.com.
John Clayton is the author of several books on Manchester and New Hampshire, including the recently released "You Know You're in New Hampshire When..." His e-mail is jclayton@unionleader.com.
Ellie
By JOHN CLAYTON
Union Leader Staff
4 hours, 37 minutes ago
MUCH LIKE other veterans of the Korean War, Dr. Robert Shoemaker knows how most Americans have derived their impressions of the so-called "police action" that claimed the lives of more than 30,000 US soldiers, sailors, pilots and Marines.
"It's from M*A*S*H*," he said.
That's why the retired orthopedic surgeon from Claremont felt compelled to write a book about his experiences as a 26-year-old surgeon with the 7th Marine Regimental Combat Team in Korea. It's called "A Surgeon Remembers; Korea 1950-1951 and the Marines."
Dr. Shoemaker's book is not without humor, mind you -- it takes a rather wry individual to admit that his first operation as a Navy surgeon was the removal of an ingrown toenail on board a troop transport -- but more than laughs, he wanted to leave readers with a reminder of what transpired in 1950 in a frigid, god-forsaken part of the globe called the Chosin Reservoir.
He's one of "The Chosin Few."
That's what the survivors of Chosin have chosen to call themselves.
It's an exclusive fraternity, and with the passage of time, its one whose membership is in rapid decline. For those who belong -- Marines, in particular -- those who compose the "Chosin Few" are living testament to the resiliency of American warriors.
By November of 1950, acting in defense of South Korea, U.S. Army and Marine units had driven invading North Korean troops back across the 38th parallel, and they stayed on the chase. The goal was to push the invaders back to the Yalu River -- the natural border between Korea and China -- and that mission had brought the American and United Nations forces to the Chosin Reservoir.
The frozen reservoir split the UN forces.
That fact was not lost on the allied commanders, but the grunts in uniform -- even doctors like Robert Shoemaker, who was with the 3rd Batallion, 11th Regiment -- did as they were told.
"Since we were west of Chosin, we went five miles up a westward, one-lane dirt road to a hillside where we had to set up our aid tent in the dark and cold on November 25," he wrote. "At 8:30 the next morning, the temperature was eight below zero."
From his dark and frigid aid tent in Yudam-ni, Dr. Shoemaker couldn't know that Chinese Communist troops -- 70,000 by some estimates -- were encircling the U.S. forces. On Nov. 27, after initial, tentative probing, the piercing sound of whistles, horns and bugles signaled the onset of a nighttime attack by the Chinese, who came in human waves.
"An estimated 70 wounded were brought to the 3-11 aid station during that first night and early morning without any warning," he said, "and a pyramidal tent -- with me as the only physician and four corpsmen -- could hardly be described as a complete trauma center.
"Most had been injured by small arms-fire," he added, "but there were also many who had been injured by grenades. We tried to concentrate on areas related to loss of blood, but we were unable to do anything to replace the blood loss in the dark and cold."
He couldn't counter the blood loss because his plasma was frozen, and since the nighttime temperatures were approaching 30-below, the weather had become an enemy to rival the Chinese.
"The wounded were coming in so fast, we had a problem finding a place for them so they wouldn't freeze to death before we could treat them," Dr. Shoemaker said. "We had some bales of straw that we spread out on the ground, and between that and throwing ponchos on top of them while they were lying outside on the ground, it was all we could do to prevent frostbite."
Things weren't much better for Marines who required immediate care.
"We had small syrettes of morphine, but not much of that," he said. "You had to keep them in your mouth to keep them from freezing. Other than that, we had Novocaine."
The bad situation only got worse, as gunfire began to resound in the nearby hills.
"We were told to expect Chinese in our immediate area," he said. "I was told to carry my .45 pistol with me (and) it became necessary to triage the wounded; who would survive ... and who would not likely survive, no matter what could be done for them.
"The situation was," he said, "and still is, a heavy burden to bear."
The tactical burden on the command staff was a heavy one as well, as plans were formulated on the fly for the withdrawal of 15,000 U.S. troops.
It wasn't so much a withdrawal as it was an extension of the battle, and for those who considered it a retreat, Maj. Gen. O.P. Smith, commander of the 1st Marine Division, uttered a remark that -- apocryphal or not -- has become the stuff of Marine Corps lore.
"Retreat? Hell, we're attacking in a different direction!"
The direction was south.
The goal was Hungnam Harbor and the only path from Yudam-ni to the Sea of Japan was a one-lane supply road called the MSR -- Main Supply Route -- that ran for 78 miles through mountainous terrain that was crawling with Chinese troops.
Fighting their way out was a 13-day ordeal and many, especially those who survived it, consider it the greatest feat of American arms ever accomplished.
In the years that followed, Dr. Shoemaker became an accomplished orthopedic surgeon and more than 50 years after the fact, he knows that ordeal did much to shape his approach to medicine.
"The Yudam-ni confrontation helped to teach me that all who came to my care as a doctor should be treated as family," said the former Navy doctor, who takes great joy in rattling off the names of the many local hospitals where he has put his skills to the test.
"One of my claims to fame," he laughed, "is that I've pinned hips at Claremont, at the old Mary Hitchcock Hospital, at the Newport Hospital -- now closed -- at New London Hospital, at the old Windsor Hospital now replaced by Mt. Ascutney, at the Alice Peck Day Hospital in Lebanon, at Springfield and Rockingham in Vermont and at the VA Medical Center in White River Junction."
It's the kind of career he dreamed about long ago.
"I have to say the snow-covered mountains around Chosin reminded me of New England in the winter," he said. "Blue, cold, clean. It looked like it could have been New Hampshire ..." he added, and as his voice trailed away, I knew the comparison ended with the view.
His view of what happened at the Chosin Reservoir is now a matter of record.
It's in the book called "A Surgeon Remembers; Korea 1950-1951 and the Marines," and it's available through Trafford Publishing at www.trafford.com.
John Clayton is the author of several books on Manchester and New Hampshire, including the recently released "You Know You're in New Hampshire When..." His e-mail is jclayton@unionleader.com.
Ellie