A/1/7 Newsletter - October Page 1

It was great having Paul and Mary Becker back with us again. Paul has been recovering from an illness for the past few years. Jerry Schutz and daughter Lisa Stautberg also attended. Jerry is having some medical problems but hopefully is recovering!

It was great seeing Howard "Dave" Davis and wife Sally. Dave allowed me to share his foxhole the first night when I arrived on line in Korea in June 1951. Also, great to see Andy D'Amore and wife Anita. Paul Garst also attended as a first timer too! Continued on page 6

Next year we will be holding our 13th annual reunion in Galveston, TX and our hosts are Guy and Joan Taylor. Information outlining the 2008 reunion will be forthcoming in our January 2008 Newsletter.

It was decided that we would hold our 14th Reunion in Oceanside, CA in 2009 with Arty/Carole King as Hosts. Visiting Camp Pendleton!

Further, "Doc" Burkhart and family will be hosting the 15th Reunion in 2010 in the State of Maine. As of this date the city has yet to be decided.

Our Marines/Guests attended the new Marine Corps Museum on Tuesday the 18th and as far as I know everyone present was inspired and delighted that we had the opportunity just to be in the mist of this outstanding museum. Those that volunteered to escort us through the museum were most gracious and very knowledgeable. They made us feel welcome and happy that our Marines/guests came to tour the museum.

I heard nothing but praise about this magnificent museum honoring our Corps of Marines. After the tour a dinner was served at the Officer's Club, which was excellent.

On the 19th 99 Marines/Guests boarded buses for a tour of the Memorials in Washington, DC, with a stop over at the Marine Corps Memorial at the Arlington Cemetery. This too, was a great one according to all the reports I received when they returned.

Our banquet was held on the evening of the 20th at the Officer's Club. The Commanding Officer of the base, Colonel Charles A. Dallachie, USMC as guest speaker. His message was an overview of the functions of those who report to him. His message was interesting and very timely. His bride Lynn was in attendance also.

The staff at the base hotel, Officer's Club and especially the Marines on the gate was on the ball and did a bang up job. They were truly professional Marines!

CHECK IT OUT!

• Pg 1: 2007 Annual Reunion Info
• Pg 2: Taking Chance - Part III (Cont'd pg 3)
• Pg 4: Gettysburg Speech (Cont'd pg 5)
• Pg 5: Words of Wisdom, Lost Member (Cont't pg 6)
• Pg 6: Changes to our Roster, TAPS, New Regiment, More reunion info. Bumper Stickers
• Pg 7: Registration Form - A/1/7

A/1/7 Newsletter - October Page 2

TAKING CHANCE - PART III

Finally, it was time to open the pouch. The first item I happened to pull out was Chance's large watch. It was still set to Baghdad time. Next were the lanyard and the wooden cross. Then the dog tags and the Saint Christopher medal. This time the chains were not tangled. Once all of his items were laid out on the table, I told his mom that I had one other item to give them. I retrieved the flight attendant's crucifix from my pocket and told its story. I set that on the table and excused myself. When I next saw Chance's mom, she was wearing the crucifix on her lapel.

By 1400 most of the seats on the gym floor were filled and people were finding seats in the fixed bleachers high above the gym floor. There were a surprising number of people in military uniform. Many Marines had come up from Salt Lake City. Men from various VFW posts and the Marine Corps League occupied multiple rows of folding chairs. We all stood as Chance's family took their seats in the front.

It turned out that Chance's sister, a Petty Officer in the Navy, worked for a Rear Admiral-the Chief of Naval Intelligence-at the Pentagon. The Admiral had brought many of the sailors on his staff with him to Dubois pay respects to Chance and supports his sister. After a few songs and some words from a Navy Chaplain, the Admiral took the microphone and told us how Chance had died.

Chance was an artillery cannoneer and his unit was acting as provisional military police outside of Baghdad. Chance had volunteered to man a .50 caliber machine gun in the turret of the

leading vehicle in a convoy. The convoy came under intense fire but Chance stayed true to his post and returned fire with the big gun, covering the rest of the convoy, until he was fatally wounded.

Then the commander of the local VFW post read some of the letters Chance had written home. In letters to his mom he talked of the mosquitoes and the heat. In letters to his stepfather he told of the dangers of convoy operations and of receiving fire.

The service was a fitting tribute to this hero. When it was over, we stood as the casket was wheeled out with the family following. The casket was placed onto a horse-drawn carriage for the mile-long trip from the gym, down the main street, then up the steep hill to the cemetery. I stood alone and saluted as the carriage departed the high school. I found my car and joined Chance's convoy.

The town seemingly went from the gym to the street. All along the route, the people had lined the street and were waving small American flags. The flags that were otherwise posted were all at half-staff. For the last quarter mile up the hill, local boy scouts, spaced about 20 feet apart, all in uniform, held large flags. At the foot of the hill, I could look up and back and see the enormity of our procession. I wondered how many people would be at this funeral if it were in, say, Detroit or Los Angeles-probably not as many as were here in little Dubois, Wyoming.

The carriage stopped about 15 yards from the grave and the military pall bearers and the family waited until the men of the VFW and Marine Corps league were formed up and school busses had arrived carrying many of the

people from the procession route. Once the entire crowd was in place, the pallbearers came to attention and began to remove the casket from the caisson. As I had done all week, I came to attention and executed a slow ceremonial salute as Chance was being transferred from one mode of transport to another. From Dover to Philadelphia; Philadelphia to Minneapolis; Minneapolis to Billings; Billings to Riverton; and Riverton to Dubois we had been together. Now, as I watched them carry him the final 15 yards, I was choking up. I felt that, as long as he was still moving, he was somehow still alive. Then they put him down above his grave. He had stopped moving.

Although my mission had been officially complete once I turned him over to the funeral director at the Billings airport, it was his placement at his grave that really concluded it in my mind. Now, he was home to stay and I suddenly felt at once sad, relieved, and useless.

The chaplain said some words that I couldn't hear and two Marines removed the flag from the casket and slowly folded it for presentation to his mother. When the ceremony was over, Chance's father placed a ribbon from his service in Vietnam on Chance's casket. His mother approached the casket and took something from her blouse and put it on the casket. I later saw that it was the flight attendant's crucifix. Eventually friends of Chance's moved closer to the grave. A young man put a can of Copenhagen on the casket and many others left flowers. Finally, we all went back to the gym for a reception. There was enough food to feed the entire

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population for a few days. In one corner of the gym there was a table set up with lots of pictures of Chance and some of his sports awards. People were continually approaching me and the other Marines to thank us for our service. Almost all of them had some story to tell about their connection to the military. About an hour into the reception, I had the impression that every man in Wyoming had, at one time or another, been in the service.

It seemed like every time I saw Chance's mom she was hugging a different well wisher. As time passed, I began to hear people laughing. We were starting to heal.

After a few hours at the gym, I went back to the hotel to change out of my dress blues. The local VFW post had invited everyone over to "celebrate Chance's life." The Post was on the other end of town from my hotel and the drive took less than two minutes. The crowd was somewhat smaller than what had been at the gym but the Post was packed.

Marines were playing pool at the two tables near the entrance and most of the VFW members were at the bar or around the tables in the bar area. The largest room in the Post was banquet/dinning/dancing area and it was now called "The Chance Phelps Room." Above the entry were two items: a large portrait of Chance in his dress blues and the Eagle, Globe, & Anchor. In one corner of the room there was another memorial to Chance. There were candles burning around another picture of him in his blues. On the table surrounding his photo were his Purple Heart citation and his Purple Heart medal. There

was also a framed copy of an excerpt from the Congressional Record. This was an elegant tribute to Chance Phelps delivered on the floor of the United States House of Representatives by Congressman Scott McInnis of Colorado. Above it all was a television that was playing a photomontage of Chance's life from small boy to proud Marine.

I did not buy a drink that night. As had been happening all day, indeed all week, people were thanking me for my service and for bringing Chance home. Now, in addition to words and handshakes, they were thanking me with beer. I fell in with the men who had handled the horses and horse-drawn carriage. I learned that they had worked through the night to groom and prepare the horses for Chance's last ride. They were all very grateful that they were able to contribute.

After a while we all gathered in the Chance Phelps room for the formal dedication. The Post commander told us of how Chance had been so looking forward to becoming a Life Member of the VFW. Now, in the Chance Phelps Room of the Dubois, Wyoming post, he would be an eternal member. We all raised our beers and the Chance Phelps room was christened.

Later, as I was walking toward the pool tables, a Staff Sergeant from the Reserve unit in Salt Lake grabbed me and said, "Sir, you gotta hear this." There were two other Marines with him and he told the younger one, a Lance Corporal, to tell me his story. The Staff Sergeant said the Lance Corporal was normally too shy and modest to tell it

but now he'd had enough beer to overcome his usual tendencies.

As the Lance Corporal started to talk, an older man joined our circle. He wore a baseball cap that indicated he had been with the 1st Marine Division in Korea. Earlier in the evening he had told me about one of his former commanding officers; a Colonel Puller.

So, there I was, standing in a circle with three Marines recently returned from fighting with the 1st Marine Division in Iraq and one not so recently returned from fighting with the 1st Marine Division in Korea. I, who had fought with the 1st Marine Division in Kuwait, was about to gain a new insight into our Corps. The young Lance Corporal began to tell us his story. At that moment, in this circle of current and former Marines, the differences in our ages and ranks dissipated-we were all simply Marines.

His squad had been on a patrol through a city street. They had taken small arms fire and had literally dodged an RPG round that sailed between two Marines. At one point they received fire from behind a wall and had neutralized the sniper with a SMAW round. The back blast of the SMAW, however, kicked up a substantial rock that hammered the Lance Corporal in the thigh; only missing his groin because he had reflexively turned his body sideways at the shot.

(Part IV - There conclusion will be published in our next newsletter)

GETTYSBURG SPEECH
Memorial Day, 2007
MGen (Ret) Robert H Scales USA (Retired)

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Mr. Kuhn, friends of Gettysburg and most importantly fellow veterans. What a great thrill it is to return to Gettysburg. I've come to this place hundreds of times. I've walked this ground when it was covered with snow, in the heat of summer, in a pouring rainstorm while leading a staff ride with the leadership of the Chinese Army a few years ago.

Coming here never gets old. It never becomes tiresome. It never fails to excite a passion or raise my spirit. To those who have never seen war surely emotions like these seem strange indeed. Some of our citizens who hear old soldiers like me talk about a love for a battlefield conclude that we love war. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Part of my love for this place is personal. A distant relative, Colonel Alfred M. Scales, was seriously wounded leading Scales North Carolina Brigade up Seminary Ridge on the first day of the battle.

Another reason I venerate this place is because it is a soldier's laboratory and a place to learn the art of war. We soldiers practice our profession only infrequently so we rely on past battles to teach us about the future. Even though Gettysburg was fought using weapons that seem primitive to young soldiers the lessons it teaches about leadership and courage and intellect are immutable. We are learning again in Iraq and Afghanistan that war is not a test of technology it is a test of the collective will and talents of soldiers and the nature and character of that test will never change.

Another reason why this place attracts me is because all of what you see around you is so

close to home. This was America's war from both sides, fought on ground that is so familiar and recognizable. It was the first war fought in which most soldiers were literate and, thanks to the recent invention of photography, so recognizable. When you go to the visitors center look into the eyes of the young soldiers staring at you from across the century and you'll see a reflection of yourselves.

But I'm drawn here mainly to relive and revive in my own soul the unique influences that brought young soldiers here to fight and die a century and a half ago. Again and again, it's the same old question from politicians and media who have the rare privilege of watching soldiers in action in Iraq and Afghanistan: why is their morale so high? Don't they know the American people are fed up with this war? Don't they know it's going badly? Often they come to me incredulous about what they perceive as a misspent sense of patriotism and loyalty.

I tell them time and again what every one of you sitting here today, those of you who have seen the face of death in war, understand: it's not really about loyalty. It's not about a belief in some abstract notion concerning war aims or national strategy. It's not even about winning or losing. On that fateful evening on the last day of June 1863 soldiers weren't sitting around campfires in Cashtown or Emmittsburg roasting coffee and frying bacon to discuss the latest pronouncements from Lincoln or Jefferson Davis. They might have trusted their leaders or maybe they didn't. They might have been well informed and passionate about their

cause or maybe not. They might have joined the colors to end slavery or restore the Union or maybe they just were shanghaied on the docks in Brooklyn or Manhattan.

Before battle young soldiers then and now think about their buddies. They talk about families, wives and girlfriends and relate to each other through very personal confessions. The armies that met at Gettysburg were not from the social elite. They didn't have Harvard degrees or the pedigree of political bluebloods. They were in large measure immigrant Irish or German kids from northern farms and factories or poor scratch farmers from the piedmont of Virginia, Georgia, Texas and North Carolina. Just as in Iraq today soldiers then came from every corner of our country to meet in harsh an forbidding places in far corners of the world, places that I've seen and visited but can never explain adequately to those who have never been there.

Soldiers suffer, fight and occasionally die for each other. It's as simple as that. What brought Longstreet's or Hancock's men to face the canister on Little Round Top or rifled musket fire on Cemetery Ridge was no different than the motive force that compels young soldiers today to kick open a door in Ramadi with the expectation that what lies on the other side is either an innocent huddling with a child in her arms or a fanatic insurgent yearning to buy his ticket to eternity by killing the infidel. No difference.

A civil war soldier was often lured from the slums of New York or Philadelphia and coerced into the Army by promise of a 300-dollar bonus and 25 dollars a month.

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Patriotism and a paycheck may get a soldier into the Army but fear of letting his buddies down gets a soldier to do something that might just as well get him killed. What makes a person successful in America today is a far cry from what would have made him a success in the minds of those who we honor here today. Big bucks gained in law or real estate, or big deals closed in the stock market make some of our countrymen rich. But as they grow older they realize that they have no buddies. There is no one who they are willing to die for or who is willing to die for them.

A last point of history before I close today. The Anglo Saxon heritage of buddy loyalty has been long and frightfully won. Almost six hundred years ago the English king, Henry V, waited on a cold and muddy battlefield to face a French army many times his size. Shakespeare captured the ethos of that moment in his play Henry V. To be sure Shakespeare wasn't there but he was there in spirit because he understood the emotions that gripped and the bonds that brought together both king and soldier. Henry didn't talk about national strategy. He didn't try to justify faulty intelligence or ill formed command decisions that put his soldiers at such a terrible disadvantage. Instead, he talked about what made English soldiers fight and what in all probably would allow them to prevail the next day against terrible odds. Remember this is a monarch talking to his men: This story shall the good man teach his son;

From this day ending to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother;

And gentlemen in England (or America) now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhood's cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

You all here assembled inherit the spirit of St Crispin's day. You know and understand the strength of comfort that those whom you protect, those in America now abed, will never know. You will live a life of self-awareness and personal satisfaction that those who watched you from afar in this country who "hold their manhood cheap" can only envy.

I don't care that virtually all of America is at the Mall rather than at this memorial today. It doesn't bother me that war is an image that America would rather ignore. It's enough for me to have the privilege to be among you. It's sufficient to talk to each of you about things we have seen and kinships we have shared in the tough and heartless crucible of war.

Some day we will all join those who are resting here. Over a campfire of boiling coffee and frying bacon you will join with your Civil War band of brothers to recount the experience of serving something greater than yourselves. I believe in my very soul that the almightily reserves a corner of heaven, probably around an inextinguishable campfire where some days we can meet and

embrace… all of the band of brothers throughout the ages to tell our stories while envious standers-by watch and wonder how horrific and incendiary the crucible of violence must have been to bring such a disparate assemblage so close to the hand of God. Until we meet there thank you for your service, thank you for your sacrifice, God bless you all and God bless this great nation…

FROM MY DESK
Received this email from Col.
Stan Rauh
Shifty. Your tribute to our gallant corpsmen is long overdue and greatly appreciated by all of us in A/1/7 and the entire Corps. We all say "THANK YOU Doc" for being there when we needed you most.

Wish I could have made the reunion. My best to all you from a fellow warriors. Stan

Email from Gene/Jeanie Merrallbr /> July 10th 07 Jeanie and I received a call from our Daughter in Law in California to inform us that her husband (our Michael) 53 yrs old died of a failed heart with the t v remote in his hand and showed no sign of any struggle or pain. Thank God.

Jeanie and I went to California and all of the family too and attended the Funeral Mass, which was very nice, and a full military funeral with a 21-gun salute along with taps.

SgtMajor Jim Skinner received this email asking for assistance and he forwarded it to me to run in our newsletter.

To: Shifty; jrskin@gibralter.net

A/1/7 Newsletter - October Page 6

Sent: Wednesday, August 15, 2007 10:11 AM
Subject: RE: RE: CORPORAL THEODORE HAUSMAN

Shifty:
Thanks for responding. My family took his death pretty hard so I can't remember his name being mentioned more than once or twice while I was growing up. My mother thought that maybe he was killed by a sniper with a shot to the head. This might be the case since he was the only Marine in A Company, 1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment killed on 06/01/51. I believe I am the only person in my family that has a picture of Ted in his uniform. I will try to locate it and attach a scanned copy of it. Maybe the picture will help someone remember him.

Thanks again.

Owbra (Mick) McNary
Instructional Systems Specialist
Transformation Directorate
Navy Medicine Manpower,
Personnel, Training and Education Command
8901 Wisconsin Avenue
Bethesda, MD 20889-5611
Phone: 301 295-6089
Fax: 301 295-6008 owbra.mcnary@med.navy.mil
The following is a picture of Cpl Hausman:

LOST MEMBER
Bill D. Lough 10/50 - 12/50 old address: 1950 W. Webb Rd #118 Wichita, KS 67207 Wife Marianne. Mail Returned 6-30 no forwarding address last Tel # 316-685-5168 no longer in service. If anyone knows him and has an up to date address and telephone number please let me know. Shifty

CHANGES TO OUR ROSTER
Ronald Bolduc, Sr Address and Telephone Number:
7 Garden Street Chalker Beach Old Sabrook, CT 06475-1725
860-712-0190
Lester O'Neil's Address:
48485 Big Horn Way, La Quinta, CA 92253-7151 Phone #: Unknown
Carl F. Ullrich's Telephone Number: 757-333-7786

You know that I really wished our Marines would review our roster and send me corrections, as I know some data is incomplete or erroneous! I hate to have wrong data when our Marines call me asking for an address and/or telephone number. Think about it Marines!

TAPS

Charles L. Angler MGPlt 9/50 - 12/50. Reported to his final duty station on 28 May 2007
David (Buck) Hatch, Sr.
2nd Plt 4/51 - 9/51. Reported to his final duty station on 20 August 2007
LtCol. Thomas E. Hodges USMC (Ret) MG PltLdr 11/51 - 7/52. Reported to his final duty station on 28 May 2007

MORE ABOUT OUR 12TH REUNION:

Ed and Nina Pearman were with us with their daughter Betty, Son-in-law Steven Deeds, their grandson

Rodney and wife Shantel David-son. Rodney has just been dis-charged from the Corps. He had one tour of duty in Iraq. And Nick Wehling a friend of the family. Ed has been ill with lots of TLC from his family and health care givers for the past several years. His enjoyed the tours of the Museum and Memorial in DC. It was great seeing Ed and Nina again.

If I have missed someone I am really sorry!

At the Officer's Club I met Colonel Courtney Whitney USMCR who was the CO of A/1/7 in 1985 - 1986. It is always a pleasure meeting one of our own!

At the annual meeting it appeared that I was re-elected for my eight year! I didn't realize that I would be the permanent PRESIDENT of A/1/7 Marine Corps Association - Korea 1950 - 1953!

There are still some of our Marines that haven't paid their 2006-07 dues. I would like to get our dues record up to date. Please check your newsletter label as it has the last year that you have paid your dues.

All in all everyone that I talked with enjoyed the reunion and I have received numerous emails, cards, and letters thanking Darlene and me for hosting this annual reunion.

BUMPER STRICKERS
I saw a bumper sticker yesterday that I thought you'd like. In big letters it said: To err is human. To forgive divine. In little letters below it said: Neither one is Marine Corps policy.