1953 on Gray Rock Ridge

Mr. Ruggles,

Here is the story in it's current form and some sample photos that I have assembled. I now have literally hundreds of photos of Louie thanks to his family, but I can provide photos of each of the men who died during the events.

Some of the pictures of the other men who were killed come from the references I provided, and others are from old yearbooks I found or searching on ancestry or other archives. Louie's photos are mostly family collections. The picture of Don Stevens was provided by his daughter. He also does not have his boot camp photos.

I also have a spreadsheet that I am working on with all of the men in Recon Company at the time, but I am struggling to find the names of all the corpsmen and 1st Tank Btn men who were attached to Recon. I would like to get those names established for the final version so that everyone who was there is included.

I know Louie trained at Camp Pendleton once he finished his Hospital Corps School, but I don't know when exactly he was there. We haven't found any of his boot camp photos, and sadly it seems like the national archives hasn't made much effort to make those available. If you have suggestions where I could try, that would be great.

I can provide many more pictures of Louie. We also have two different sets of dog tags, his medals, the flag his parents received, the presents he sent his sister (she always thought they were Korean, but Louie bought them in Japan). Just let me know once you have had a chance to read the story.

Thanks so much!

Regards
Henry Cross

Tragedy on Gray Rock Ridge
by Henry Cross
Disclaimer

In 2023, I began to compile the published accounts of Gray Rock Ridge along with
newspaper articles, official military records, and family histories into what I believe is
the most comprehensive account to date of the events near Panmunjom, Korean on
February 27-28, 1953. My discovery of this story came during my research on the life
of Navy Hospitalman Third Class (HM3) Louis “Louie” James Rightmire who died
shortly after arriving in Korea. Like most war stories, it contains graphic violence and
racist terminology. Where possible, I have tried to be as respectful to both sides and all
people as I can, but in order to honor the memory and experiences of those who endured
these events, I have left their own language where source material allowed. If there are
living witnesses to the events of Gray Rock Ridge, please contact me so that your
experience can be added and any errors corrected.

It is understandable that a Division Command Diary would not generally be able to
include specific details of daily events. In fact, the official diaries don’t discuss
casualties since they are accounted for within the Muster Roll documents. The diary
does mention however men who were missing in action (MIA) because that was a more
unusual (though not rare) event. A MIA soldier deserves the utmost attention of the
company, and such an event usually controlled the subsequent actions of a company.
Such is the case on Gray Rock Ridge. As a frame or reference, I will include here the
text from the First Marine Division Command Diary that cover the events of
Reconnaissance Company for these two days. Rather than analyze or critique these
words, I suggest the reader consider why there might be differences from the eye witness
accounts that made up the version of events covered in the story below (and all of the
corresponding reference material it is based on.) If you are interested in further reading,
I highly recommend finding copies of these books and newsletters, because most of
those authors were in Korea as part of Reconnaissance Company, and endured these
events directly. But since those men are now no longer with us, they now have joined
the other names within the story.

First Marine Division Command Diary February 1953

27 February:
“A Division Reconnaissance Company ambush patrol, operating in the 7th Marines
sector, received long range fire from an unknown number of enemy in the Vicinity of BT
976028. Fifteen minutes later they were engaged at BT 973032 by an estimated 40
enemy. After a 40 minute fire fight the patrol disengaged and returned to the MLR.
Three members of the patrol were missing when the patrol reached the MLR. A platoon
was sent out to find the missing Marines but returned with negative results.”

28 February:
“A Reconnaissance Company (-) patrol sent out to search for the missing Marines from
the previous nights action discovered the bodies of the Marines but were engaged by 15
enemy at BT 977028 before the bodies could be recovered. The patrol disengaged after
a ten minute fire fight. Four Marines were missing in action after this engagement. Two
patrols sent out in search of them returned with negative results. The four Marines were
accounted for later when they returned to Outpost #2. They had become separated
during the action and were unable to return until dark because they were under enemy
observation.”

The hundreds of thousands who died, and millions of others who were involved in the
war effort had a full life before the war started, and all of their families were affected by
the changes in the people who returned or by the void left by those who didn’t. Louie
was the last of the men who died as a direct result of the events those two days, and I
hope that his story will inspire someone else to research another fallen hero, and share
their life beyond their military service, perhaps even one of the men who came to Gray
Rock Ridge as replacement in Recon Company immediately after this event.
Great thanks must be given to Louie’s family’s extensive knowledge of the life of their
Korean War medic. Louie’s only niece, Adele, was born nearly twenty years after Louie
died, but thanks to her knowledge of him, I have been able to understand a bit about who
he was as a person.

In the telling of this story, I use military tradition and refer to the men involved (even
military men from other wars) by their rank and last name with two exceptions.
Although sources indicate that Louis Rightmire’s nickname within Recon Company was
either “Luigi” or “Corpsman Doc” I have used his preferred nickname of “Louie”
throughout. I have included details of his life before the war and how his death affected
his family to show that every life lost is so much more than just a name and rank on a
monument. He was always known as Louie to his friends and family, and he even
signed his enlistment papers into the Navy using his preferred nickname, so he is Louie
in this account. The other exception is HM3 Donald Kinman Stevens who I refer to as
Mr. Stevens, even during his time training in Balboa Hospital Corp School when he was
just a young man in his early 20s. He met and became friends with Louie there at
Balboa in San Diego. As fate would have it, Mr. Stevens served on the hospital ship that
Louie died on. Mr. Stevens is thankfully alive and well in 2024, and while he frequently
attends reunions of his fellow veterans, and is rightfully proud of his military service, it
is his acts of humanity that are most important to this story rather than anything he did
acting as a Navy Hospitalman.

I would like to dedicate this project to him.

Too Young to Fight With His Heroes

Recon Company Casualties From Gray Rock Ridge Incident

February 27-28, 1953
1 Missing in Action (GySgt. Errgang was never found, he is now consider Killed in Action)
3 Killed in Action (Cpl. Bush, Pfc. Benenati, Cpl. Gerry Day)
34 Men injured
- 25 requiring evacuation to Btn. Hospitals
- 11 ultimately flown to Hospital ships

Recon Attached Casualties
1 Tank Btn Marine Killed in Action (Pfc. Whitson)
1 Corpsman Died of Wounds (HM3 Louie Rightmire)
at least 4 more injured Corpsman or Tank men (the full list may never be known)

Personal Details of the Men Lost on Gray Rock Ridge
Louie Rightmire likely had very little opportunity to use his medical training in Korea.

We have no proof, but most likely, he was dispatched to aid in the earliest AM hours of
February 28th as soon as his platoon arrived back at COP2. He wanted so much to help
his fellow man, and he gave his life trying to find the three missing marines. When his
own group went missing, another marine made the exact same sacrifice for him. Louie’s
birth in St Paul, Nebraska came about nine months after his mother endured a brutal
crime. Her family sent the then 16-year-old Gertrude to Nebraska so that a cover story
could be fabricated to protect her integrity in the terribly judgmental society of the day.

The trauma that created the newborn Louie seems to have made his mother love her first
son more than anything in the world. When Thomas Rightmire met Gertrude and heard
her story in 1937, he fell in love with them both, married Gertrude, adopted Louie, and
began growing their new family. Louie was a cub scout and budding artist as a kid, but
most of all he’s remembered as the best big brother anyone could hope for. After he won
the Mr. Tucson title, he posed for physique photos by three of the most well respected
photographers in the field, even working on staff for a year at the Athletic Model Guild
while he was attending El Camino Junior College in Torrance, CA to learn medicine. He
made sure all of his family got copies of the photos he was so proud to pose for. He
loved fresh seafood and harvested his own abalone off the Pacific coast to share with
family and friends. His younger cousins looked up to him because he was kind, strong,
intelligent, and treated everyone, particularly children, with respect. The death of his
little brother David did not break the incredible bond of this family, but it came at a time
when Louie was forced to embark on a new path. He continued to compete, finishing
third place in both the 1952 Mr. Arizona physique contest and the 165-pound-class
Arizona state lifting championship. It was his last big meet before he deployed. In the
winter at the end of 1952, Louie went with his family on a pilgrimage to a shrine for
Saint Joseph of the Mountains in Yarnell, Arizona. Honoring the patron saint of families
together, Louie’s parents invited his partner to join them to acknowledge how important
they were to each other. Louie’s little sister Roselle held at her heart a photo from that
trip as her favorite memory until the day she died, and she made sure everyone knew
that it was Louie’s partner Henry that took the picture. Her final birthday presents from
her big brother were cherish heirlooms her entire life and are among the family relics
from Louie that have survived the seven decades since he died. Louie planned to return
after the war to be a doctor and photographer, and Roselle had hoped to be his nurse.

Little Jack Whitson had been just as new to Recon Company as Louie was, having been
Attached from the 1st Tank Battalion. “Little Jack” as his family called him spent
January stationed at Pearl Harbor barracks in Hawaii after serving a large part of 1952 in
Korea. When he returned to Korea in mid January, the loss of his platoon leader meant
that he and thirteen other marines from his platoon would switch to Recon Company for
new training. He was born on February 6, 1932 and went to Selah high school in
Yakima, Washington before his parents moved to Spinard, Alaska, and then Richmond,
California. His service in Korea now over, he was sent home in a flag draped casket
aboard the SS Rider Victory in June 1953 then buried in the San Francisco National
Cemetery.

Frankie Benenati was admired by everyone who ever met him. It is a testament that
several of the marines who first told the story of Gray Rock said that he was their best
buddy. He was from Norwich, New York, and graduated from Norwich High School in
1951. Although his family called him Frankie, his classmates called him Ben. In the
Perfect Senior voting, a yearbook tradition similar to class superlatives where the
students select a single “attribute” from each student to create a Frankenstein-like
“Perfect” student, he was voted as having the perfect feet. He loved his Oldsmobile, and
even stated in the yearbook that “every other car” was his biggest pet peeve. He hoped
to be a General in the Marine Corps, so was planning a full military career, or maybe
thought he’d be promoted to that rank by the time the war was over. He chose “smooth”
as the one word that described him best. Clearly, he had the confidence of the typical
high school senior, but he also possessed the boldness to express those beliefs in writing.
In October 1951 he married his sweetheart Francis A. Yocano and was already a private
in the Marine Corps. He trained at Paris Island, SC and Camp Lejeune, NC before
deploying to Korea in February 1952. He had been scheduled to return home to his wife
and family in March 1953 before the tragedy on Grey Rock Ridge ended his life. In his
1951 yearbook, his senior quote was “’Man’s life is but a jest’… a perpetual
tease...sparkly-eyes...light-hearted...happy-go-lucky...unbiased in friendships...not to be
hurried...’What, Ben, another car?’” It seems to beautifully sum up the life of a guy who
so many seemed to bond quickly with. The local newspaper ran a photo of his funeral
with full military honors.

Robert Bush graduated from Perkin High School in Perkin, Ohio and attended Bradley
University before he entered the Marines in November of 1951. He trained as a radio
operator, and deployed to Recon Company in October of 1952, just 6 months before
Gray Rock. Robert, Frankie and Pfc. Burrill were very close during the war. Pfc.
Burrill noted that he did not know initially that Robert was the first to die on Gray Rock.
It was only after his platoon returned from the friendly fire incident that Burrill finally
heard the news that Bush was also gone. Burrill said it was one of the worst days of his
life losing his two best buddies at the same time.

Gerry Day graduated from the St James Academy Catholic School in 1951 in New
Rockford, ND. He had been elected as the class Vice President of the student council
for his tiny K-12 school. He was also the sports editor of the school’s newspaper The
Ace. His Junior year in 1950, two senior girls left him essential items in the “class will”
another popular yearbook tradition where graduating students can pass on any item at all
to one of next years seniors, particularly if they think the person should be in need of the
item. Agnes Lies passed on her typing paper, likely a reference to Gerry’s dedication to
the school paper, and Bernetta Rausch willed to him her refrigeration truck, which seems
to be a very ironically useful item for a North Dakota winter. Gerry trained at Camp
Pendleton according to a note from his friend and fellow marine Sgt. Robert Robinson
on the KoreanWar.org website in 2000. Gerry’s body was returned to the US aboard the
SS Southwestern Victory in April, and he is buried in Saint Johns Cemetery in New
Rockford, ND.

As of 2024, Joe Errgang’s status has not been formally resolved, and his family still
longs for some kind of resolution. Joe’s family, particularly his sister and niece, have
worked tirelessly to help ensure that families are reunited with the remains of their loved
ones, and have promoted Joe’s legacy from two wars and his continued status as a
Korean War MIA. Along with Zach Piercy and tens of thousands of other MIA, Joe is
remembered in the Courts of the Missing in the National Memorial Cemetery of the
Pacific in Honolulu, Hawaii, and in the Clermont County, Ohio Korean War Memorial.
Sgt. Stanley Walter Sgt. Boyko was treated for his injuries and was back in Recon
company before the end of the month. He received a silver star in 1959 for his actions
in Korea on the week Louie arrived to Recon Company. He received a bronze star for
his actions on the day Louie was injured, and was given that medal within weeks, while
he was still serving in Korea. He was patched up from his injuries, and stayed in active
service in Recon Company. He was born March 28, 1926 in Manhattan. Both of his
parents were from Poland and they changed their last name from Bojko shortly after his
birth.

According to the 1930 census he was living with his aunt and uncle uncle, Valera
and Joseph Jurkowsky. He served in the Navy during World War II, then in the Marines
in Korea retiring after an 18 year career. He spent 21 years as a New York DMV clerk
until he retired in 1989. When he died on February 1, 2011, no living relatives could be
identified. He was buried with military honors at the Gerald B. H. Solomon Saratoga
National Cemetery in Schuylerville, NY with his friends in attendance.

HM3 Donald Kinman Stevens moved back to Texas after the war. He took a job with
the Texas Department of Public Safety, married his sweetheart and had a family. In
2022, he was interviewed by the local San Antonio newspaper to share his experience
during the Korean War. He chose to let the reporter know about his friend Louie.

Honors
Korean War Veterans are remembered in memorials across the United States, in every
United Nation country that participated to defend South Korea from the invasion, and in
South Korea itself. The following list are just some of these memorials, but were
selected because they specifically carry the names of those who gave their lives on Gray
Rock Ridge. If other memorials with their names are known, please submit the location,
so the list can be kept up-to-date.

Alaska
Anchorage Korean War Memorial
(Whitson)

California
San Joaquin National Cemetery, Korean War Wall of Remembrance
(Rightmire)

Hawaii
Courts of the Missing in the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Honolulu,

Hawaii
(Errgang)

New York
(Benenati, Piercy)

North Dakota
(Day)

Ohio
Clermont County, Ohio Korean War Memorial
(Errgang)

Korean War Memorial, Dayton
(Errgang, Bush)

Pennsylvania
Pittsburgh Korean War Memorial
(Alford)

Virginia
1st Recon Battalion Memorial on the grounds of Semper Fidelis Park on the grounds at
National Museum of the Marine Corps, Quantico
(Alford, Benenati, Bush, Day, Errgang, Piercy, Rightmire, Whitson)

District of Columbia
Washington, DC, Korean War Memorial
(Alford, Benenati, Bush, Day, Errgang, Piercy, Rightmire, Whitson)

South Korea
Seoul, War Memorial of Korea
(Alford, Benenati, Bush, Day, Errgang, Piercy, Rightmire, Whitson)
1st Marine Division, Recon Company

February 27-28, 1953
Panmunjom, Korea
(Platoon assignments as identified in various accounts of the incidents)

Recon Company Platoon 1 (36 men assumed)
1st Lt. Herbert Richard “Dick” Oxnam (leader)
Sgt. Arthur Lipper (assumed command on March 1*)
Sgt. John L. Camara {tank}
Cpl. Leland “Lee” O. Ballenger, {tank}
Cpl. Beverly “Bev” Bruce
Cpl. Gerald “Gerry” Joseph Day (radio man) [KIA] New Rockford, North Dakota
[*On March 1, 1953, Platoon 1 was down to 11 men, led by Sgt. Arthur Lipper]
Recon Company Platoon 2 (36 men assumed)
1st Lt. William Livingston (leader)
GySgt. Joseph Rease Errgang (gunny) [MIA, officially KIA]
Pfc. Frank Joseph Benenati [KIA] St Paul Cemetery, Norwich, NY
Pvt John Byron Whitson {tank} [KIA] San Francisco National Cemetery, San
Francisco, CA
Cpl. Robert Author Bush, radioman Lakeside Cemetery, Perkin, IL
Cpl. Arnold E. Allen Radio Man
Pfc. Clarence or Charles “Chuck” Burrill
Corpsman Pete (Last Name unidentified)
Recon Company Platoon 3 (36 men assumed)
2nd Lt. James “Jim” Lewis Day (leader)
Sgt. John Crabtree
Sgt. Robert J. Finn {tank}
Sgt. Donald Sgt. MacDonald
Sgt. Norm Haney
Sgt. Frank A Ladone, Tank
S/Sgt. Stanley W. Sgt. Boyko
Pfc. Val H. David
HM3 Louis “Louie” James Rightmire “Luigi” “Corpsman Doc”, attached
Inglewood Park Cemetery, Inglewood, CA
Pfc. Herbert Pinkston {tank}
Pfc. Gerald “Jerry” Patrick Ravino {tank}
Marines of Able 1 Seventh Marine Division
who aided in the rescue on Gray Rock Ridge
February 28, 1953
Sgt. John J. O’Hagan
Cpl. Paul E. Kelly
At least two other stretcher bearers from Able 1/7 likely assisted in the rescue
US Navy Hospital Ship USS Consolation
Inchon Harbor
(1952-1953 Cruise)
HM3 Donald Kinman Stevens
An unidentified sailor who let Stevens know Louie had been brought on board.
1st Marine Division, Recon Company
March 1953 New Member
Panmunjom, Korea
Pfc. Horace Alford Jr (KIA April 12, 1953 from Gray Rock Ridge)
Cpl. Zachary “Zack” T. Piercy (MIA April 12, 1953 from Gray Rock Ridge, not
recovered)
References
Sadly, fewer and fewer witnesses of the Korea War are still alive to tell their stories. So
in their honor, and to respect their memories, their stories can only be told if someone
takes the time to ask and write them down. Thankfully, the marines of Recon Company
did this about what happened on Gray Rock Ridge, and this account was only possible
because of their efforts. Thank you.
Sgt. John Walter Gibson
“Medic On A Mission”
His memoir as published online on various sites including Normandy1944.info

The San Bernardino County Sun
July 18, 1950
“Truck Swerves to Miss Girl, Kills Boy, 12”
The Daily Times (and multiple papers nationwide)
March 9, 1953
“Three Marines Turn Tables, Rescue Wounded Navy Medic On Korean Front”
The Los Angeles Times
March 18, 1953
“Casualties in War Listed”
The Arizona Republic
April 10, 1953
“Address Wanted”
“Killed in Action”

April 1953
Gertrude Margaret Rightmire, poem for her son, read at his funeral
Lee Ballenger

2001
The Final Crucible: U.S. Marines in Korea Vol. 2: 1953*
Chapter 6 - Ambush at Gray Rock Ridge
Graybeards Newsletter (of the Korean War Veteran’s Association)*

2008
Vol 23, Sep-Oct issue
Jerry Ravino

2009
Elite USMC First Reconnaissance Company of the Korean War 1950-1953*
Chapter 17 - Island Ambush
Recon Reflections Newsletter (Recon Company Newsletter)
Ambush at Gray Rock*
Hubert E. Campbell

2012
Issue 28
San Antonio Express-News July 25, 2022

“Hondo Man Became a Navy Medic and Made a Friend”
* These reference included firsthand accounts, access to letters and diaries written by
members of Recon Company as well as official military correspondence of which the
author of this summary did not have access. However, one redacted letter from Major
Hugh MacDonnell to the family of Frank Benenati was reproduced in Recon Reflections
issue 28, and that single reference provides perspective on the official account of the
events those two days. Because Louie was a corpsman, and attached to Recon
Company, rather than being assigned as a Marine, his family likely did not receive such
a letter from Major MacDonnell after Louie died.

Furthermore, Louie was dropped from the Marine Muster Roll when he was sent to the USS Consolation, and likely Major MacDonnell did not even get notification of his death. Gertrude and Thomas received a standard death notice telegram from the Navy. The efforts of Recon
Company Marines to reach Louie’s parents proves that he was just as much a member of
this company as any of the marines he served with.

Louis “Louie” James Rightmire was born in the small town of St. Paul, Nebraska on
July 29, 1931, but grew up in areas around Los Angeles, California. Louie loved to
paint and draw, and as a ten-year-old Cub Scout he sat with his family and listened to
President Roosevelt describe the attacks on Pearl Harbor. His father Thomas’ heart
murmur kept the military from accepting his enlistment requests, but Louie’s uncle,
Private (Pvt.) John Edgar Rightmire, served in the Army’s 313th Infantry Regiment.

The survivors of World War II came back heroes to the young boys like Louie who
weren’t old enough to have served with them. His parents and older relatives helped, as
all families did in the war effort. His mother Gertrude and Aunt Edna Phillips both were
secretaries at the Red Cross, and his father worked for AiResearch who were developing
new airplane technologies during of the war. At 13 years old in 1944, Louie was still too
young to recognize and fully understand that his uncle’s months-long illness was most
likely undiagnosed post traumatic stress disorder. This was, after all, a time in our
country when men were supposed to be strong, and soldiers weren’t supposed to cry.
But Pvt. J.E. Rightmire had to fight his way through Utah Beach on D-Day. The horrors
he saw there ranked among the worst of the war, and that was just the first day of what
he endured in France. When Pvt. J.E. Rightmire finally returned home, it took months
for him just to cope with his return to civilian life, and begin to function again after what
many just called shell shock. That panic at the sound of gunfire during a hunting trip, or
a loud firework at a patriotic celebration was too real for those who experienced those
sounds differently. But when Louie’s uncle became a fireman, he reinforced his status
as a hero in his young nephew’s eyes. There hardly was a child in the country during
this time who didn’t have a father, uncle, or cousin like Pvt. J.E. Rightmire to now try to
live up to.

Redondo Union High School’s 1948 junior varsity football team featured a teenage
Louie in his freshmen class. He wasn’t tall, only about 5’-6” but he started weight
training as a sophomore when his parents moved to Phoenix, Arizona the following year.
Louie’s cousin James came to spend a few weeks with the family that summer, and as
soon as he arrived, Louie and his little brother David took James for a hike through the
Sunny Slope desert. James said that he nearly suffered from heat stroke during their
journey but the scout in Louie realized it, and ran from house to house until he found
someone to let them have a drink of water. Louie’s lessons trained him to be alert, and
he always responded when he noticed something wasn’t right. Louie’s weight training
also became quite an obsession for him around this time, and he began to compete in
local lifting meets. He placed third in the Arizona championship in the 145 pound class
in early 1949 lifting a total of 455 pounds. It was quite an accomplishment for a 17-
year-old boy who had only recently started training. In November that year, Louie
competed in and won the very first Mr Tucson physique title, just a few months after his
18th birthday.

Tucson is where Louie met Sergeant (Sgt.) John “Johnny” Warren Gibson. Sgt.
Gibson had been an Army medic in the 101st Airborne Paratroopers and jumped into
Normandy on D-Day where he was among a small group that was captured by the
German army. Sgt. Gibson found himself being forced to serve as the primary caregiver
at a German makeshift prison hospital in Mortain, France for nearly two months. His
hard work in the prison camp actually impressed the Kommandant over the prison, so
one day the chief instructed Sgt. Gibson to go to collect his monthly pay. When he got
to the head of the line of German soldiers, the clerk asked him to confirm that he was a
paratrooper. His status meant Sgt. Gibson got more payment than most of the Germans
who were in line with him. It didn’t make him any friends there, but it certainly was a
badge he wore with great honor. When the allies got close to Mortain, the Germans
moved him and the wounded to a notorious prison camp in Rennes. Thankfully the
allies to overtook that place just a few weeks later and finally liberated Sgt. Gibson and
the other allies held there. Sgt. Gibson was told that he would be reassigned to a new
division, but he insisted on rejoining his battalion. He even threatened to go AWOL if
he wasn’t allowed to get back to his men. So he was put on a small twin engine plane
and sent back to England. His first order of business was to find US Intelligence. They
debriefed Sgt. Gibson about what he learned from the Germans, and when they were
done, he presented them with a scrap of paper that he had kept from the day he arrived
in Mortain. It contained the list of all the names and serial numbers of the men who died
in the prison there, and a description of where each was buried. Then when Sgt. Gibson
reached his battalion, although the men were thrilled to see him, he found that his
equipment and belongings had been split among the other medics and his personal
weight kit had been taken by the Army Air Force. He was presumed killed on D-Day,
and even one soldier described seeing Sgt. Gibson get shot and go down in a French
marsh. Sgt. Gibson thankfully was alive and well. He didn’t get his weight set back,
but his new gear came with a new assignment. The third battalion jumped their second
mission, this time into Holland and soon after came the battle of the bulge, where in
Noville, Sgt. Gibson’s life and luck in this war would change. He was stuck in the
middle of a massive German offensive in the frozen Belgian winter. Wounded and dead
soldiers were all over the battle site, from the roadsides and deep into the woods. Sgt.
Gibson found Captain (Cpt.) James Morton with a terrible ankle injury and faced
down in the snow under a tree. As Sgt. Gibson was cutting Cpt. Morton’s trousers to
better assess his wound, a shell exploded nearby and killed one of the other medics, but
Sgt. Gibson couldn’t leave Cpt. Morton unattended, so he just ignored the incoming fire.
Within seconds, an 88 shell from a German tank hit the tree they were against. Shrapnel
came straight down through his shoulder, lung, diaphragm, and liver. He yelled for a
medic as he slumped down on the Captain as the searing pain took over. He thought his
life was over when he heard his own blood bubbling in his chest each time he inhaled.
His time as a battle medic was over. When he recovered 11 months later, the war in
Europe was over. His purple heart and silver star were proudly discussed with anyone
who asked in his downtown Tucson barber shop, or at the YMCA or the lifting meets he
organized (and usually won.) Sgt. Gibson held every Arizona lifting record in the 148-
pound class at that point, and was crowned Mr. Arizona 1950. When Sgt. Gibson
competed for and won the 1951 Mr. Tucson trophy in September 1950, Louie was there
as the reigning title-holder and as and exhibition performer. Louie got to pass his title to
his friend, mentor, and hero. It was likely one of the proudest moments of his life.
Louie was clearly influenced by Sgt. Gibson’s tales as a medic and other heroes like his
uncle. Louie began expressing a deep desire to help his fellow man, and human
anatomy started to enter his artwork. A future career in medicine crept into his plans.

The Rightmire family moved back to Los Angeles shortly after the November 1949
contest and Louie started working at a physique photography studio. There, he
developed a keen interest in cameras and a desire to merge his artistic hobbies into his
future medical career. His father got a home just south of the airport on Acacia Street in
El Segundo. Uncle John Edgar’s family lived just a few houses away. In fact, almost all
of his extended family were in the area, many within just a few blocks because most of
them got jobs at AiResearch thanks to Thomas working there. Even though Louie had
only completed 10th grade, he passed his entrance exams and began taking classes at El
Camino Junior College so he could work toward that medical degree he wanted. In July,
an empty log truck turned onto the dirt alley behind Acacia St. The driver quickly
spotted Louie’s 8-year-old sister Roselle riding her bicycle behind Uncle John Edgar’s
home, so the driver swerved to miss her. Unfortunately, David Rightmire was at the side
of the alley, and was thrown under the rear wheel of the swerving truck. That snapped
his neck and ended his twelve-year-old life. This event changed the Rightmire family
forever.

The week after little David’s funeral, the unrest in Korea turned into an all-out
war, and young men across the nation began to receive notices to report for qualification
physicals. Louie received his notice within weeks and knew he would pass any physical
test they subjected him to. But Louie wanted to at least have some control over his
destiny, and already knew what it was he wanted. On the first day of September, 1950,
he met with a recruiter from the US Navy in El Segundo and enlisted. He fully
committed to becoming a field medic like his friend Sgt. Gibson, but he also wanted to
continue with his education so when his military service was complete he could continue
his path to become a doctor. Experience as a medic would certainly help achieve that
ambition.

Military Training
Louie’s boot camp at the San Diego Naval Training Center in company 383 was likely in
late 1950 or early 1951. From there, he entered the San Diego Hospital Corps School at
Balboa Hospital where he met another sailor named HM3 Donald “Don” Kinman
Stevens. Mr. Stevens was Louie’s age, but had enlisted before the war started in 1949,
and he said that the Navy wasn’t taking on many men at that time. Medics were the
only position that the Navy was actually accepting in 1949, so it made his choice simple.

He also trained at San Diego NTC a few months before Louie, graduating in company
233 in early 1950. He also completed training at Balboa Hospital earlier than Louie but
he stayed on staff at the hospital as an intern. This is when he met Louie. The two men
bonded over meals in the mess hall and their shared strong work ethic, although, I don’t
think Louie ever told his friend how much David’s death was part of that intense
motivation.

In the summer of 1951, while Louie was still in hospital corps school, his grandfather,
Peter Rightmire, was losing his battle with lung cancer. Louie took the train on
weekends to be with his family in El Segundo, and his cousin Lucretia, just a little girl at
the time, was one of the young kids who got to horse around with their older cousin to
diffuse some of the family’s stress. She still talks with joy about her strong cousin
giving “all us little kids rides on his back in the living room” during Peter’s last days.

Louie again returned home the second week of July to attend Peter’s funeral. On that
day, the only known pictures of Louie in his Navy uniform were taken. He completed
Hospital Corps School then went on to Camp Pendleton for further training in 1952. Mr.
Stevens distinctly recalled his buddy’s plans to be part of the Fleet Marines. It was
around this time that Mr. Stevens’ deployment orders arrived. He told me “They sent
me to Long Beach, where I caught the USS Consolation Hospital Ship headed for
Inchon in Korea.” Back then, both of these young sailors only knew war from
newsreels, inaccurate Hollywood movies, and stories brought back by men who were
seen by all as heroes. Those heroes usually would only share their tales of glory because
they thought that’s what people wanted to hear, but also kept them from having to relive
the tales of gore.

Now, a new generation was living the hell of war for real in a far off
land called Korea. It was now Mr. Steven’s turn to relieve someone who already spent
a year or more there on that valued hospital ship.

The First Marine Division’s Headquarters Battalion’s First Reconnaissance Company
back then was simply known as Recon Company and new marines were also arriving to
relieve men who had done their time on the front lines. In mid 1952, they shifted from
the center of the peninsula westward, near Panmunjom. This group of new men
included Private First Class (Pfc.) Frank Joseph Benenati who quickly made a name
for himself as a friendly guy from upstate New York who loved nothing more than to
talk about his beautiful wife, his favorite sports, and his favorite car, an Oldsmobile.

Two radiomen, Corporal (Cpl.) Robert Arthur Bush and Cpl. Gerald “Gerry”
Joseph Day joined the company soon after, and these men bonded quickly with the
marines in Recon Company as they ran stealthy ambush missions and fought their way
toward their destination near the neutral corridor. They were to be part of a marine
outpost there to protect the road leading to the site of the peace negotiations.

Military trainees in the United States since the previous war were now exposed to the
most advanced technologies in the world, and certainly for Louie in Camp Pendleton,
being part of amphibious tank landings and helicopter exercises were awe inspiring. He
took pictures of those exercises as well as some of the men he trained and bonded with.
We believe that Louie finished up his training at Camp Pendleton in the fall of 1952, and
still had the same roll of film in his camera when he joined his family on a road trip to
Yarnell, Arizona just before he deployed. Louie decided he would take his trusty 35mm
camera to Korea so he could document the war from a medic’s perspective.

Deployment
By the start of 1953, the stalemate of brutal battles along the line of outposts known as
the Jamestown Line was wearing down both sides. This third frigid winter took its toll
on supplies and morale. And with peace talks failing yet again, Louie was just one of
yet another wave of new sailors, pilots, soldiers, corpsmen and marines who were
activated. On January 6, 1953 he flew from El Toro air field near Irvine, California to
Moffett Field, then onto Travis Air Force Base where on January 10 he boarded a
Douglas DC-4 bound for Tokyo. One of his buddies took a picture of him standing in
the aft port loading door of the Clipper Red Rover just before they left U.S. soil.

In 1953, passenger planes were not pressurized, so the pilots had to stay lower in the
atmosphere to maintain a breathable atmosphere which resulted in a slower, louder, and
much more turbulent ride. Flights were so rough back then that the attendants were
typically registered nurses trained to administer medical assistance when the trip was too
much for a passenger. And with a typical cruising speed of about 240 miles per hour, the
flight to Tokyo took around 22 hours. It certainly would have rattled most of the
passengers who, like Louie, were often on their very first airplane trip, and all of these
passengers were dreading their next destination. Louie and some of the marines on his
flight took their short layover in Japan to explore the area around the Haneda airport.
One of the men grabbed Louie’s camera and took a picture of the now weary medic
sitting in a rickshaw. Somehow, Louie managed to remember that his little sister was
about to turn 12 years old in a couple weeks, and he bought her a porcelain geisha doll
in a red and gold kimono. He also spotted a Japanese copy of Disney’s adaptation of
their shared favorite story, Alice in Wonderland, and knew it would be the perfect gift
for his little sister. He and the marines then flew to Kimpo (Gimpo) International
Airport just south of Seoul, Korea. Louie promptly mailed home the birthday presents, a
condiment set and music box for his mother, and the now completed roll of film for his
dad to get developed.

Louie then joined Recon Company on January 17, 1953 along with a batch of
replacements for men who had served their time. He had always been outgoing and
seemed to like everyone he ever met. He quickly got the nickname Luigi, probably
because of his thick, black hair. Some of the other marines called him Corpsman Doc, a
traditional nickname for sailors who were there to treat their wounded marines, but also
a title of honor for these unarmed men who were so highly respected by their heavily-
armed counterparts.

Second Lieutenant (Lt.) James Lewis Day was recently assigned leader of Recon’s 3rd
Platoon. He was certainly not new to war though. Lt. Day had fought all over the
Pacific in World War II, and was one of the heroes of the Battle for Okinawa. But
because none of his commanding officers survived those events on Okinawa, it took
until 1992 for Day, who by that point was a Major General, to receive the Medal of
Honor. In January 1953 though, he had already earned our nation’s highest award, and
he was one of the most respected men of Recon Company. For Lt. Day though, this
frozen patch of hills around Panmunjom and this new flood of green men were his only
concerns. He wasn’t happy that the experienced men were all lumped into a single
platoon, so he insisted that they be spread more evenly. So after their new assignments,
each platoon had a few men with experience, and Louie ended up under Day’s
leadership in the 3rd Platoon.

Recon Company Commander Major Dermott Hugh MacDonnell, who himself had
only taken his position on December 3, 1952, was stationed with his men at Combat
Outpost Two (COP2) along with other 1st Marine Division men, including the 1st Btn. of
the 7th Marines (Able 1/7.) COP2 was located directly alongside the neutral corridor
along the road to Panmunjom where all the peace negotiations were held. It was
absolutely critical that no shots be fired in the wrong direction that could potentially
shatter hopes at ending the war peacefully. Marines running COP2 were required to sign
contracts, in red ink, stating that no stray munitions would be fired into the neutral
corridor. And they had to acknowledge that they understood the consequences of such
violations. The neutral corridor was so important in fact, that even the enemy forces
generally took care if they attacked COP2 so that their weapon fire also did not reach the
neutral corridor. Of course that didn’t stop them from making raids on COP2 and trying
to wreak havoc among the marines operating there. COP2 sat on a hill, and from it’s
eastern side, extended a long raised finger of land that was called no name ridge.
Eventually, they gave it a more descriptive name, and began calling it gray rock ridge.
On January 22, a Recon platoon was sent over a mile into enemy territory. They
encountered a hostile group of soldiers who weren’t too pleased that marines had
somehow managed to find their way so deep into territory they controlled. When the
platoon leader and three others in the platoon got seriously injured, Sgt. Stanley Walter
Boyko took charge of the unit. He was another seasoned Marine who had served in the
Navy during World War II, and now was another highly regarded Recon marine. Sgt.
Boyko singlehandedly killed nine of the attacking enemy soldiers, then guided his entire
platoon, including the injured men, safely back to COP2 while personally guarding their
rear for the mile trek back. His actions that day made him a bit of a legend in Recon,
and Louie certainly would have been glad to know men like this were at his side in
COP2.

That same week, Master Sergeant (MSgt.) Charles Junior Rhoades of the First Tank
Battalion (Btn.) had been killed. His platoon was heavily hit, so their commander
offered a new assignment to the men who could still fight. Fourteen marines from
MSgt. Rhoades’ platoon volunteered to head over to Recon Company on the front lines
for reconnaissance training. These men too were promptly split up and spread across
Recon's three platoons. Many of these First Tank Btn. marines were the original
historians to document the events on Gray Rock Ridge, and it is from their great efforts
that this account has been assembled.

Working out in the open was quite new for Recon Company. Recon marines were
trained to work undercover, sneaking into enemy territory to gather intelligence or
capture prisoners for interrogation. Now they were placed directly with marine infantry
units in a region where the enemy was everywhere and out in the open. This made
undercover missions virtually impossible, practically pointless, and as Sgt. Boyko found
incredibly risky. For several weeks, the Major used his Recon replacements on ambush
missions with the intent to build some experience and hopefully to capture some enemy
soldiers who could then be interrogated. Several of these ambush missions had been run
with varying degrees of success when the Major decided to run a repeat of an earlier
operation.

Cpl. Leland “Lee” O. Ballenger was one of the 1st Tank Btn. men and witnessed these
events as an attached member of Recon’s 1st Platoon. He wrote the most extensive
firsthand account in chapter 6 of his 2001 book The Final Crucible: U.S. Marines in
Korea Vol. 2: 1953. The tank men who volunteered to learn recon tactics were now
experiencing more than undercover missions.

Another of the 1st Tank Btn. marines, Pfc. Gerald “Jerry” Patrick Ravino described
his version of the events in chapter 17 of his 2009 book Elite USMC First
Reconnaissance Company of the Korean War 1950-1953. His account compiled
statements from several Recon Marines as well as official correspondence and provides
added details for exactly what was about to happen on February 27.

It is likely that he could not reach Marines from Platoon 3, so his account offers less detail for the
following day, and the version of the story you are currently reading is an attempt to
expand the story for both days and beyond so that the memory of these men, and what
happened to them can live forever.

A Countered Ambush
At 1835, on the evening of February 27, 1953, Platoon 2 led by Lt. Herbert Richard
“Dick” Oxnam was instructed to set his platoon in place at an area the men called “the
Stadium” because of it’s bowl shape. His platoon’s goal was to initiate a nighttime
ambush of any enemy soldiers found in the area. Platoon 1 led by Lt. William
Livingston departed at 1930 with the goal of establishing a blocking line along a raised
finger of land known to the men as Gray Rock Ridge. From there, Platoon 1 could trap
and hopefully capture fleeing enemy soldiers chased out by Platoon 2. It was the exact
same ambush pattern that had been run a few days prior, and perhaps the enemy took
note.

That frigid Korean winter night didn’t have a cloud in the sky, and the full moon that
hung over the snow covered terrain illuminated everything. Some men who described
the night said it was like being in an evening baseball game under the electric lights, but
on this night, the match would not be a friendly ballgame. Things began to unravel
quickly when a larger-than-expected enemy force was spotted converging below
Oxnam’s men just after Livingston’s platoon departed COP2. Livingston was notified
so he rushed his platoon to aid. At 1940, the enemy began bombarding Oxnam’s platoon
with 82mm mortar fire and long range machine gun fire from two nearby hills. Major
MacDonnell ordered Oxnam to withdraw to prevent even more casualties than they had
already taken. At about the same time, Livingston’s men ran head first into a platoon of
enemy that were preparing their own trap to encircle Oxnam’s men. The planned marine
ambush became part of an ambush by the enemy. The close combat battle that ensued
was terrible for both sides.

Men were slinging grenades and firing their guns. Sgt. John L. Camara of Platoon 1 recounted his memories of the day in his diary. One of the marines he remembered as Snuffy found and shot every round of ammo he was able to reach. A squad leader, Cpl. Robert “Bob” V. Kosmeder, was severely injured.

Another marine remembered by the name Finkle lost his right arm and right leg on the
ridge. The closest names in the corresponding muster rolls are Sgt. Frederick William
Filkins and Pfc. William F. Fenkner, but their military records indicate further service
for both men, so it’s more likely one of the other injured men of Platoon 1 suffered the
loss of their limbs, and Finkle’s nickname had been incorrectly applied so many years
later. It is also possible that we just haven’t made the correct connection between the
nickname Finkle and the actual injured marine. Platoon 1 radioman Cpl. Arnold
Ellison Allen was hit in the neck and legs, and bleeding profusely. Their other radioman
Cpl. Robert Arthur Bush had been hit by automatic fire and was bleeding even worse
than Cpl. Allen. Corpsman HM3 Clifton “Cliff” B. Davis was wounded in the left arm
but he continued to aid and direct men to safety during the intense fighting. The enemy
began bombarding this area with 82mm mortar rounds seeming to not care that their
own men were still fighting there on the ridge. Major MacDonnell ordered a withdraw,
but Livingston and too many of his men were wounded to make a swift and successful
withdraw, so he called for assistance to expedite the evacuation. Marines from Able 1/7,
and several men of Platoon 2, including Lt. Oxnam, responded within minutes and

helped clear marines from the area as our own mortar fire began dropping on the enemy
positions. The extra time needed for assistance to arrive was a luxury that Cpl. Bush
did not have. He lost too much blood during the chaos and died before he could be
brought back to COP2. Many wounded marines from Lt. Oxnam’s platoon were already
being treated when the men from Livingston’s platoon were being brought in. Likely,
had Platoon 1 not rushed in and encountered the enemy by surprise, Platoon 2 would
have been hit much harder, and they might not have returned at all. Cpl. Bush’s life, and
the injuries sustained by the men of Platoon 1 were quickly determined to not be the
only casualties. The head count revealed that three of the Platoon 1 marines were
missing in action (MIA.)

Technical/Gunnery Sergeant (GySgt.) Joseph “Joe” Rease Errgang was another
experienced marine, having served in the Pacific during World War II. As part of
Livingston’s platoon, and recently assigned as their gunny, he had been seen helping
wounded men escape the chaos as the battle area was being evacuated. The Recon
marines admired GySgt. Errgang, and they were shocked to find that he was not back
with the rest of the men. Two privates were also missing, Pfc. Benenati, and Private
(Pvt.) John “Little Jack” Byron Whitson. Even though Platoon 1 had 16 wounded
men, and one who just died, three MIA marines meant there was no option except to
head back out. Lt. Day’s platoon that had been sent to patrol along the neutral corridor
south of COP2 earlier in the day was called back, but there was no time to wait for their
arrival.

A search party of Lt. Oxnam’s men was quickly assembled and guided by the few of
Livingston’s men that could still walk. But because of the brightness of the full moon,
they had no real cover and were quickly driven back to COP2 by enemy fire coming
from nearby hill 134. Two more marines were wounded, one of them seriously, during
this first search. A second search team, this time assisted by Platoon 3 set out and also
took injuries, so the Major decided to delay further searches until sunrise.

Most likely, as soon as Platoon 3 arrived back at COP2, Louie and the other corpsmen in
the platoon would have been dispatched to the triage area in the COP2 aid station to
assist with tending to any of the wounded marines who still needed aid, and there were
many. Lt. Day joined the Major and the other platoon leaders to formulate a daybreak
search plan. They decided the men would travel down both sides of Gray Rock Ridge in
staggered groups of four. When they reached the end of the finger of land, the men
would switch sides for their return to the outpost. This way, all areas would be searched
by all of the men looking. They knew, however, that the men would be exposed to
enemy fire from several hostile locations that had still not been knocked out.

The Morning Search
Before the search proceeded on February 28, 1953, mortar rounds were fired at all
previously known enemy positions. At 0630, a smoke screen was placed for additional
cover and groups from Platoon 3 began their search on Gray Rock Ridge. By 0700, the
36 men of Platoon 3 were spread across the ridge and began to receive enemy machine
gun fire from nearby hills 80 and 134, and a spot known as the island. Pfc. Clarence E.
“Chuck” Burrill, who was close friends with Pfc. Benenati, fired his machine gun in
response, and probably out of anger over his missing friend. He heard an order for the
men to pull back, so stopped firing.

Enemy mortar rounds began dropping which injured six more Recon marines along the ridge. It was an exposed area, and very difficult to keep cover smoke in place long enough to protect the men searching, and now that they were so spread out, even off-target shots could still do damage. It was
around 0730, that the tail end of the search groups were finally rounding the tip of the
ridge. The final four men were Sgt. Donald John “Mac” MacDonald, Pfc. Val Howard David, Sgt. Boyko, and their corpsman Louie. The men were still at the far end of Gray Rock, just making the return journey back to COP2 when enemy fire chased them away.

They all dove into the same trench as they ran from the machine gun bullets
that were chasing them. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Sgt. MacDonald
raised his head out of the trench to see if they were clear. A bullet spun his helmet off of
his head as he dove back down into the trench. “I guess I stuck my fool head up a little
too high that time” was his verbal assessment of his failed attempt to gather intel. The
bullet that struck his helmet circled all the way around, then exited next to where it
entered. They were pinned down, and firmly, and by 0750, they saw the four men in the
group in front of them pass for the last time over a distant peak along the ridge.

Platoon 3, unaware of the events unfolding at the tail of their line, continued to search
along their return route. They found the bodies of two marines. A letter from the Major
to Benanati’s family sometime later claimed that his dog tag was retrieved, then lost in
the ensuing chaos when enemy fire erupted, but other witness accounts indicated that
both of the marine’s bodies had been stripped of identification and had been mutilated.
These two bodies were believed to have been Pfc. Benenati and Pfc. Whitson. Pfc.
Benenati had been serving in Recon for over a year, and was due to return home to his
young wife and family in March. He was everybody’s best friend over there it seems,
and was certainly looking forward to getting home. Whitson was one of the 1st Tank Btn
marines, but he had been stationed in Hawaii in early January, and had only rejoined
their platoon days before MSgt. Rhoades was killed. He was as new to Recon as Louie
was, and even some of the tank men hadn’t gotten a chance to know him. Sgt. Camara’s
diary is quoted in The Final Crucible and his misspelling of the private’s name as
“Witron” is a sign of this unfamiliarity, but his words show Sgt. Camara’s tremendous
respect for his fellow marine: “Pvt Witron caught a HE grenade in the face after
standing up and firing a rifle grenade at a platoon of goonies moving in on us. He died
like a marine. His last words were ‘I’m having more fun than a barrel of monkeys!’”
Perhaps the legendary phrase was Sgt. Camera’s artistic embellishment to add heroism
for the young private from Alaska, or perhaps Whitson really was high on the adrenaline
of the fighting, and because different men had different memories of the chaos, it’s even
possible that Whitson was the marine referred to as Snuffy in the earlier account
described in Ballenger’s book. The High Explosive (HE) grenade that killed private
Whitson ultimately made the identification of his body that much more difficult. But
the men of Recon company were all familiar enough with GySgt. Errgang that they felt
confident that he was not who they found. It should also be noted that since Sgt.
Camara witnessed Pfc. Whitson’s death, he must not have been around to notify Major
MacDonnell of this fact so that the men searching would know beforehand that he had
been killed.

Like all wars, this one had been filled with brutal tactics of intimidation, and the men of
Platoon 3 could see on a distant road below the ridge three more bodies laid out beside
Christian style crucifixion crosses. The road could not be accessed from the ridge, so
they couldn’t make any positive identifications of the dead. The enemy in the area had
previously displayed captured dead marines and soldiers in ghastly, demoralizing acts
that included strapping them to crosses, and it seems the three bodies on the road were
another planned display that had been interrupted by the ongoing searches. Those three
bodies plus the two recovered were clearly more than platoon 1 had been missing, and it
was later identified that the three bodies on the road were from a previous encounter
where marines from a different company had gone MIA. To say that war brings out the
worst in humans is an understatement. GySgt. Errgang was not among those three
bodies on the road, or the two found on the ridge, and because several witnesses recalled
seeing him help pull wounded men to safety, it was feared that perhaps he had been
taken prisoner by the north. For the men of Recon, that was a fate feared more than
being hung from a cross.
As the final members of Platoon 3 made it back to COP2 at 0815, they now realized that
the four men at the rear of the search were not back, so at 0840 yet another smoke screen
was placed and another search commenced. At 0850, 24 men from Platoon 3 embarked,
this time looking for men from their own platoon. The new smokescreen that was
placed caught the attention of the four trapped men. They decided to make a break for it
together, and ran as a unit across the crest. They were being chased by off-target bullets
but they made it across that initial crest toward COP2, only to realize that they were now
in an even more exposed area of the ridge. When the wind shifted and thinned out the
smokescreen, Louie was hit in his abdomen by machine gun fire, and fell directly to the
ground in agony. Two of the marines spotted a shallow trench and the other a small hole
to hide in. One of them was able to drag Louie into the minimal cover, and tried to
comfort him as bullets continued whiz over their heads then knock out chunks of the
ground nearby. There was no room to even move without bringing in additional enemy
rounds. This new hillside prison was covered by guards who were all too intent on

Frank Joseph

John Byron 1948 Yearbook photo

Louie Rightmire 1953

Hospital Corpsman Third Class Rightmire was assigned to the 1st Marine Division. He was Wounded in Action while tending his wounded comrades and died of those wounds on March 18, 1953.

Louie Rightmire 1953

1952 Mr Correction

Tucson Gym

HM3 Donald Kinman Stevens

Louie Rightmire 

taking each one of the men out. The 0850 search for them returned to COP2 without
success.

A second search departed at 1035, this time with only 15 men but with the task to find
specific areas to search in greater detail. They searched four of these areas, and returned
at 1115 again with no result. A third search group left at 1130 with 15 fresh men from
Platoon 3, again no luck – this time returning at 1215. By this time, Sgt. Boyko took a
bullet when he attempted to make a break for help. Sgt. MacDonald also took a sniper
slug in his upper right arm and Louie was now so weak, he could barely move. The
marines knew Louie was in no shape for any delay to get help, so they talked with their
medic about their options. Louie knew the situation, and he wasn’t willing to put one of
his marines in danger. He was strong and would tough out whatever it took. The men
decided they better stay put and wait until either rescue or nightfall to try to make a
break for help. This meant enduring more gunfire and the added risk of night exposure
in the brutal Korean winter, but allowed them to focus on caring for their medic the best
they could. It was better than being picked off trying to climb over that steep bluff or
worse, abandoning him. So the three marines most likely got their medic to tell them
how to properly tend to his wounds. If his medical kit survived, they may have tried to
bandage him, but more than anything, they would have tried to keep him awake, keep
him hydrated, and keep him still to conserve his energy the best they could.

A fourth search party departed at 1245, this time made up from members of each
platoon; Lt. Oxnam and radio man Cpl. Gerry Day from Platoon 2, Pfc. Burrill from
Platoon 1 and Sgt. Norman “Norm” Portelance Haney Jr., Pfc. Edward H. Tacchi,
and Pfc. Paul F. Hess from unidentified platoons among them. The group encountered
fire from enemy machine gun nests at hills 80 and 134 and the rice paddy north of the
island. Pfc. Hess was hit, so a variable time “VT” artillery strike was called in on the
enemy locations. One of those rounds exploded short of it’s target. When the shell
exploded, Pfc. Burrill was hit in the shoulder, Sgt. Haney’s foot was torn completely
from his body, and Cpl. Day was killed instantly. Pfc. Burrill wrote in his diary that he
had just been standing in the six feet deep trench where Cpl. Day now lay dead. Only
seconds separated him from life and death, he thought how close Cpl Day came to being
the one to live with the survivor’s guilt. The shell had exploded directly above where
Cpl. Day was standing. He was now covered in holes, according to Pfc. Burrill’s
account.

When the shell exploded, he immediately fell onto Lt. Oxnam. Lt. Oxnam said
because Cpl. Day was wearing his massive radio pack and had been between himself
and the shell, Lt. Oxnam escaped without a scratch. Lt. Oxnam also never got over the
survivor’s guilt of losing his radio man, and friend on February 28, 1953.

Pfc. Burrill also said that Sgt. Haney’s foot was still in it’s boot a few feet in front of the
sergeant, so Pfc. Burrill ran over and started placing a tourniquet on his leg. Enemy
rounds continued to come in, so he drug Sgt. Haney to a small crater and called for a
corpsman. Pfc. Tacchi and a corpsman helped get Sgt. Haney back to safety. This
friendly fire loss proved a debt too far, and at 1300 Major MacDonnell called back his
men and canceled further searches for the four missing men of Platoon 3. By the
Major’s own words, the company men insisted on continuing the search, but he couldn’t
risk further casualties and would not let them go. For Pfc. Burrill, it was when he was
brought back to the COP2 aid station for treatment that he finally got word that Cpl.
Bush was the first man lost the previous day. Cpl. Bush, like Pfc. Benenati was his close
friend, and in a single day, Pfc. Burrill was the last of the three alive. He said it was one
of the worst days in his life. Beyond this, the company now had to reconcile that three
more Recon marines and their corpsman were MIA. And because they could no longer
search, those men were likely to never be seen again.

At 1845, the sun began to set, so Sgt. Boyko and Pfc. David scrambled and finally
crested the steep 15-feet-high slope. Sgt. MacDonald stayed with Louie. In the
darkness, it certainly would have felt like the enemy was now closing in. The men
whispered to each other, MacDonald to not draw unwanted attention, and Louie because
he could no longer speak any louder. Never in Louie’s life had he been physically
vulnerable or in need of care, and he certainly would have bared his soul to Sgt.
MacDonald as the two men waited hours for help to arrive. Sgt. MacDonald would have
given Louie water, and as much encouragement to stay awake and think of how he
would celebrate once he got home from this place.

When Sgt. Boyko and Pfc. David finally reached help, it was Sgt. Jack “John” J.
O’Hagan of Able 1/7 that they encountered first. Sgt. O’Hagan immediately agreed to
lead a rescue team with his Cpl. Paul E. Kelly and two stretcher bearers to find the
missing men. Though he was still bleeding, Sgt. Boyko joined so the men could swiftly
find where the sergeant and corpsman were pinned in. Sgt. O’Hagan was shocked at
how far from COP2 they had to go to reach the stranded men. Sgt. Boyko pointed
toward the end of the terrain feature, so Sgt. O’Hagan crawled out onto the ledge and
called out as silently as possible “MacDonald” but got no reply. So he crawled out
further and this time he heard the faint response “Yo.” The men were WAY out, and
down a very steep ridge according to Sgt. O’Hagan. Out of concern that the enemy had
heard his call, or possibly spotted their rescue team, he wanted to move as quickly as
possible.

Sgt. O’Hagan went down the slope first, and immediately lost his footing. As he
tumbled down the bank, he dislodged a dud 105-mm artillery shell which landed on his
elbow at the base of the slope. Almost immediately, Cpl. Kelly mimicked his sergeant,
and landed directly on top of his boss and the dud shell. Sgt. O’Hagan said he couldn’t
help but laugh. He never understood why that was his reaction in such a serious and
terrible situation, it wasn’t funny to him at all. By this time Louie had been wounded for
nearly 14 hours and was in terrible shape. Sgt. O’Hagan said the medic had a fistful of
guts hanging out of his wounds, so the sergeant took off his own scarf, balled it up as
tight as he could, covered Louie’s wound with it, then zippered his flack jacket as tightly
as he could make it. One account indicated that Louie told Sgt. O’Hagan that his
treatment made him feel better, but other accounts indicated that Louie was already
unconscious during the rescue. They strapped him on the stretcher, and thankfully Sgt.
MacDonald was able to get out out under his own strength. The steep 15ft bluff that had
trapped them for the better part of a day was apparently the only major hurdle of the
nighttime return trip to base.

Evacuation of Wounded
The men of Recon Company were trilled by the news of everyone’s return in the early
hours of March 1. It had been a terrible pair of days, the worst casualty count for Recon
Company during the entire war, but now there was a bright spot after all. Louie was sent
directly to the E Company Hospital of the 1st Medical Btn., and on March 3rd when he
was finally stable enough for transport, he was strapped to the side of a Sikorsky H-19
helicopter bound for a hospital ship in Inchon harbor.

A military reporter got wind of the story, and newspapers nationwide started running the
tale of the Navy medic who had the tables turn on him when his marines tended to his
wounds. It was certainly a relief to the Rightmire family that the story quoted Louie:
“Sgt. Boyko, Mac, and David, I owe my life to them” calling it an “act of God” that he
survived. The news was bolstered on March 6th when the family received a telephone
call that Louie was being treated aboard the USS Consolation, although there would
have been no way for the person who called to know Louie’s actual condition, and they
would have had instruction to not let the family know that these types of calls were
reserved for those in the most critical condition.

And there were many critically wounded men after the two days on Gray Rock Ridge.
Of the approximately 120 men in the three Recon Company platoons, 4 marines had
been killed, GySgt. Errgang was still missing, and 34 marines were injured. After their
preliminary treatments, 25 of those men were expected to need evacuation to larger,
more advanced facilities. Twenty Nine marines were dropped from Recon Company in
the March 1953 Muster Roll. Most of them were due to the events of these two days. It
should also be noted that the marines and corpsmen who were attached to Recon
Company were not included in these statistics, so tracking their injuries is much more
challenging.

Within a few days, Pfc. Michael J. Egan, Pfc. George O. Frank, and Pfc. William F.
Repple were transported to the USS Haven hospital ship. But the USS Consolation took
many more. The following marines were sent to the USS Consolation on different days
in March as a result from injuries they sustained on the last two days of February at
Gray Rock Ridge. The E3 and E4 Corporals were heavily hit. Cpl. Allen, Cpl. Charles
R. Cook, Cpl. Charles Joseph Ferguson Jr., Cpl. Haney, Cpl. Kosmeder, Pfc. Donald
G. Phillips, Cpl. George W. Samaha, and Cpl. Arthur P. Sheeter all spent time on the
USS Consolation before they were healthy enough for the return trip home or the few
unlucky enough to have to return to fighting in Korea.

A dictated letter appears to have been mailed to Louie’s mother Gertrude that has since
been lost, but Louie’s cousin James recalls Gertrude discussing the letter with her sister-
in-law, Edna. Gertrude didn’t believe the letter was from Louie, because it wasn’t in his
handwriting. Perhaps the news wasn’t matching the uplifting rescue story in the papers
or the phone call that likely indicated that he was on his way home. Maybe it was that it
just didn’t match her son’s typical confident demeanor, or maybe Louie’s words were
more than a mother, who already lost one son, could bear. Perhaps it was not dictated at
all. Maybe Louie only had the strength to say “tell them I love them”, so the author
created more words to comfort a family that was about to get worse news. Whatever
was on it only added to the coming grief.

Navy hospital ships were busy places during the war. Mr. Stevens had the same rank as
Louie, hospitalman third class, but he experienced the war from a ship that constantly
received men who were barely clinging to life. He told me that when things got busy
aboard the USS Consolation, there would be wave after wave of helicopters bringing
wounded men aboard. They worked all day, and sometimes most of the night tending to
men too wounded for the battalion hospitals and MASH units spread throughout Korea.
And when the Consolation’s beds filled up, they would sail to Japan to unload the men
to base hospitals so they could get right back to Korea where they were urgently needed.
The USS Repose and USS Haven did these same tasks, and hospital ships from other
countries were all helping with this most needed task.

Sailors are as closely bonded as Marines, and when one of their own was brought
onboard, word spread quickly through the crew. When Mr. Stevens heard that his buddy
Louie had been taken aboard, he took his first free opportunity to go by his bedside.
“My friend had been shot in the chest and was dying.” I could hear the tremor in his
voice when we talked about it more than 70 years after it happened. Mr. Stevens visited
his buddy at least 3 times during his short stay on the USS Consolation, only to see him
get closer to death each time. This vital 21 year old, a picture of muscular health, gave
his last breath in Inchon harbor on March 18, 1953. Mr. Stevens never got to tell his
friend goodbye, and Louie never got to say how much it must have meant to have a
friend by his side in those final days.

Mr. Stevens gave that to Louie. That act of compassion that so many give in battle when they lose a friend. That presence to hold a hand, offer a word of support, to embrace, or to just silently sit by their side is an act that is seared in memory. It is a badge of humanity for which no nation or military awards a medal. An act that could never be pinned on a uniform because it beats in the hearts of these men and women for the rest of their lives, and it is rightfully more important to
them than any other honor they carry. In so much violence and sadness, this act of love
is the most precious, and it is forever the most respected of all service actions.

A Family’s Grief
In a modern world of instant and on-demand news, we have lost an understanding and
respect for some of the hardships of the delayed news of days gone by. This delay was
particularly hard on Louie’s mother. Newspapers were far and away considered the
definitive source of news. Radio was second, but much harder to catch all the stories,
and if you missed the broadcast, you were out of luck. Television was still in it’s
infancy, and movie newsreels were reserved for only the broadest stories. For the first
two and a half weeks of March 1953, various papers nationwide ran the story of Louie’s
rescue. It even ran as late as end of March in one city. Arizona and Southern California
papers listed Louie as Wounded In Action, including the Los Angeles Times which
published this war statistic on the same day that Gertrude and Thomas Rightmire
received a telegram from the US Navy. Her grief and confusion was compounded by the
dictated letter that arrived after the telegram. In her denial, she developed a theory that
her son was now a secret agent, and the telegram was just the cover story. This was her
coping mechanism to deal with the loss of her second son. It is another level of trauma
that we seldom see these days, but so many mothers and fathers from earlier wars dealt
with similar conflicting news, and no opportunity to get further clarification.

The marines do all that is in their power to bring their men home. Yes, it is important for
morale because it shows each marine that they will not be abandoned. Gray Rock shows
however, that sometimes a commander has to make that toughest of calls and halt these
searches because the risk to others it just too high. Even then, the marines (and all
service branches) refuse to quit. The marines, pilots, soldiers and sailors that return
home after war carry their fallen with them for the rest of their lives. It has been true in
every war. You can hear it when Mr. Stevens speaks, and you can read it in Mr.
Ballenger’s book. They honor their fallen by making sure the truth of their deaths are
told honestly, and with utmost respect. And the lives of those who do get to come home
at war’s end are forever held to the unreasonable expectation that they must now do
something exceptional because someone they knew didn’t get that chance. Sgt. Gibson
wrote in his memoir “I have appreciated my time since the war and have tried to live a
little for those who never made it back.” Those friend, buddies, even men they didn’t
particularly bond with were all there facing the same dreadful task together. Sometimes,
it was just a few footsteps that made the difference if the soldier returned home. None
of them wanted to be in that place, and it was pure luck of the draw who got to leave it.
The respect these men have for those who didn’t come home is immeasurable. And their
desire to live life for those who didn’t get that chance is yet another badge of humanity
that can never be pinned on a uniform.

Louie’s body was returned to the US, quite possibly on the same plane he deployed on
two months earlier. A Navy escort, Quartermaster Third Class (QM3) Terrence M.
Digenan, brought Louie from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Escorts like this worked
nationwide to speak with grieving families, and tend to burial needs, and while they may
not have had to dodge bullets on a battlefield, or mend physical wounds on a ship, they
certainly saw first hand the dreadful results. Louie was buried in Inglewood Park
Cemetery on April 14, 1953 near his little brother David whose 15th birthday would have
been the following day. Gertrude’s delusion that her son might be a secret agent also got
buried that day.

For Those Who Never Made It Back
To add insult to injury, Recon Company placed an “Address Wanted” ad in the Phoenix
papers on April 10 when the Rightmires were in LA to bury their son. The ad read “I am
writing to get in touch with the parents of Louis Rightmire...Two of the boys, who are in
the First Marine Division...would like to… call on their buddy’s parents when they
return.” It continued “’Corpsman doc’ as he was affectionately called by the boys, was
highly regarded, and the boys were deeply sorry to lose him.” This is a remarkable bond
considering Louie was only attached to Recon company in Korea for about six weeks. It
shows that even though the men did not have the time and experience that Lt. Day
wanted them to have, they clearly had that unbreakable bond that forms on the front
lines. Sadly, because of the funeral and timing of the ad, the meeting never happened
between the two Marines and Louie’s parents, and the ad didn’t even mention their
names. If either of those two men or anyone who experienced the horrible events on
Gray Rock Ridge would like to speak with Louie’s family, the Rightmires would be
honored to finally have that conversation about their champion medic.

On March 1, Lt. Oxnam was reassigned to Item Company, 3rd Btn., 7th Marines. Lt. Day
was soon transferred to Camp Fisher in Japan and as soon as he recovered from his
injuries, Lt. Livingston was assigned to a special Raider Operation. The platoon leaders
weren’t even given a chance to tell each other goodbye. The 14 men of the 1st Tank
Battalion who came to Recon Company to get some experience were sent back, not
having learned much about reconnaissance, and now numbering just 13. Published
official letters to family members of deceased men paint a picture that the enemy
suffered worse than the ally, but in reality the loss of immeasurable potential occurred on
both sides. It was a huge price to pay to interrogate an enemy private, and maybe
swiftly reassigning platoon leaders was an attempt by the commanders to bury the
reality of what happened. Sgt. Arthur Lipper III had been 2nd in command of the 35
men of Platoon 1 on the morning of February 27th. On March 1, after Oxnam’s transfer,
he became their new leader with just 10 men under him. It would take time before
Recon Company could again be an effective military force. What happened on Gray
Rock Ridge is proof that war is not always a happy Hollywood ending, but there is no
question that the men serving were every bit the heroes and the brothers that any major
epic story would wish to portray.

Recon Company was deactivated for two weeks while replacements were brought in.
Their first batch of new men contained 19 year old Cpl. Zachary “Zach” T. Piercy and
Pfc. Horace Alford Jr. On April 12, Pfc. Alford was killed and Cpl. Piercy went
missing from another ambush mission on Gray Rock Ridge. So many lives were lost
before and after Gray Rock Ridge, and they all should be honored and remembered for
that greatest of sacrifices.

Lt. Oxnam retired from the marines as a Colonel (Col.), and in 2008, he got to visit
South Korea once more with another Recon attached, 1st Tank Btn. Marine, Pfc. Camara.
The two men got to reminisce on what they endured, and remember the friends they lost.
Those men from Gray Rock Ridge had always stayed close in their minds, but this was a
chance to actually speak with someone else who remembered them so vividly. Before
Col. Oxnam left, a group of children with their teacher were out on a field trip. The
teacher asked him if he had been to Korea before, and he replied, “yes, in 1950.” The
teacher then told her students who he was, and they all ran up to hug him. One of the
children said “thank you sir, for saving our country.”

Louie’s little sister lived a happy life, always keeping her two older brothers close in her
heart. Louie’s parents taught their only granddaughter about her hero-medic-
bodybuilding uncle and her forever-young-scout uncle. The men and women in the
military all have stories and lives that are bigger than a single battle or even a full
military career. In Louie’s case, his real life of 21 years has been barely touched on in
this story. Many men of Recon Company recounted the events on Gray Rock Ridge in
newsletters, diaries, and published books. Some of the men, like Col. Oxnam had the
chance to return to South Korea in later years to see a country that did not waste the
effort and sacrifice that had been given to them. The sailors, marines, pilots, and
soldiers who did and didn’t come back home from this war, some covered in medals,
others now obscured by the dust of time, are all heroes because they risked a great deal
to serve a cause that they believed in. These heroes are our Grandfathers, our Mothers,
our Uncles, our neighbor’s Dad, our best friend’s Great-Grandma, the old man who lives
a few houses down the street, and the body buried in that most important tomb with no
name. They are the woman laying silently in her nursing home bed, the man in the
wheelchair at the grocery store, the group entering the VFW building, and the
unidentified man still laying where he died on and unmarked hillside in a foreign land.
They are Louie and they are Mr. Stevens, and for the humanity they carry in their hearts,
they are all heroes.

The events on Gray Rock Ridge were the bloodiest that Recon Company experienced
during the whole of the Korean War. This list is an attempt to assemble the most
comprehensive roster from the end of February 1953. Sadly, it may be impossible to
determine all of the marines from the 1st Tank Battalion and the Navy Corpsmen who
were attached at the time, but of from those who were identified in published accounts, a
possible list has been assembled. For the corpsmen, the list are those who were attached
to the first marine division in February 1953. Not all of those corpsmen would have
been attached to Recon Company, but in an attempt to avoid omissions, all of their
names are listed. Additions or amendments to this list are appreciated in order to honor
the men who were there at this tragic time.

Many larger battles exist with higher casualty counts. Many instances in war with more
unusual or extreme circumstances have happened. None of the men of Recon company
would consider their experience any greater or worse than those of others who have
fought in war, but in that respect, these events were equally terrible for the families who
dealt with the loss of life, and marines and sailors who returned from Korea with broken
bodies or broken hearts. It took many more years before our country began to realize
those effects, and sadly, very few who returned from Korea received appropriate care or
counseling to deal with their personal trauma.

Stories like this can be found for nearly every encounter of every war. Sometimes
names and details are harder to uncover, and in other cases they have been researched
and told hundreds of times. Regardless of the war or the battle, this detailed account of
Gray Rock Ridge is a tribute to all who experienced war, for those, who like Louie,
Little Jack, Frankie, Gerry, Robert, and Horace did not come home alive, and those like
Joe and Zach whose families never even got that sad act of closure. But most of all, it is
for all who went to a horrible place and used their humanity to help someone. This
account is dedicated to Mr. Donald Kinman Stevens, Hospitalman Third Class, USS
Consolation, Inchon, Korea, 1953. May your humanity live on forever.

Hospital Corpsman Third Class Rightmire was awarded the Purple Heart, the Combat Action Ribbon, the Korean Service Medal, the United Nations Service Medal, the National Defense Service Medal, the Korean Presidential Unit Citation and the Republic of Korea War Service Medal.

About 37,000 Americans lost their lives during the Korean War and over 92,000 were wounded and 8,000 were missing.

KOREAN WAR PROJECT REMEMBRANCE

HM3 Louis James Rightmire
Navy Hospital Corpsman
RECON CO HQ BN
Navy
Hostile, Died of Wounds (DOW)
Date Of Loss: February 27, 1953
Service Number: 5697056
Born: July 29, 1931
Home Or Place Of Enlistment
Saint Paul, Nebraska
Location Or Battle Zone: Western Outposts
Town Or Area: Panmunjom Area
Hill Or Outpost: Gray Rock Ridge - Outpost 2

Burial Location
Inglewood Park Cemetery, Inglewood, Ca

Comments: Hospital Corpsman Third Class Rightmire was assigned to the 7th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division. He was Wounded in Action and died of those wounds on March 18, 1953.

Attached Recon Company, 3rd Platoon, Headquarters Battalion, 1st Marine Division. Gray Rock Ridge, also known as No- Name Ridge. He was originally from Nebraska.

He lived in Los Angeles, CA at the time of his basic training. His nickname was Louie. A narrative of the operation is located at 1st Recon Association Recon Reflections Issue 28
Son of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas D. Rightmire of El Segundo, California. 106-0429

Final Disposition Date: March 18, 1953
Korean War Project Key No: 25062

Wow, thank you so much for putting the story up so fast.

It's been a very rewarding experience to look into the lives of these men. I couldn't believe how much I was able to find after such a long time, but that is thanks to the men of Recon who documented it first. Sadly, I think they all are gone now - at least I haven't found a single member of the company at the time who is still alive. I certainly would love to speak with anyone who was there if you do hear of any members who remember the event.

One thing I found for sure is that getting information this far back rom our national archives is a huge chore. We need to get our politicians to legislate and fund the task of archiving the sacrifice these heroes made. Your website certainly helps preserve their memories.

My father was an E-7 in the army and served two tours in Vietnam. I recently received his paperwork for the bronze star I never knew he had - he never talked at all about the war, or about much of anything really. This process of learning about the men on Gray Rock Ridge has opened my eye to some of what my father probably experienced, and why he was the man I knew. I wish he could have been helped with all the trauma I'm sure he carried, but hindsight is 20/20 right?

Thanks again for posting this so quickly, I will share the link with the family members I have spoken with (of several of these men.) And thank you so much for your service, and all the sacrifices you have made to help protect our country.

All the best to you!
Henry

Thanks for stopping by...

Mr. Ruggles,

If it's not too much trouble, could you add these images to the as well. I may have neglected to include one of Cpl Bush in my original email. Sorry for that.

Pfc. Alford and Cpl Piercy were replacements and died on gray rock ridge just 6 weeks after the story. I mentioned them, so I've attached their photos too if you are interested since they were also part of Recon Company.

The photos of Louie that you pulled from his page at koreanwar.org were the images taken during his grandfather's funeral. I haven't found his boot camp or hospital corps school photos, but still have hope I can find them in time. Do you know if he would have been included in the camp Pendleton Gradation photo since he was a corpsman? I've looked at some of these photos, but assumed Louie would not have been part of any of those class photos. I would love to be able to ID some of the men he trained with, but that has been a very big challenge since I don't even know exactly when he was there.

When I saw the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion monument that was built at Quantico, and realized that 27 men from Recon Company were lost from the entire war, it must have been a terrible period to lose 8 in such a short span. Do you know if you are still collecting donations to pay for the Quantico monument or if any other monuments are in the works? If so, can you send me a link to make a contribution?

Thank you again.
Henry

CPL ZACHARY TAYLOR PIERCY II

On April 12, 1953, a three-man reconnaissance patrol left a forward Marine outpost, near the area soon to become the Demilitarized Zone, to gather information on the disposition of Chinese troops in the area. The patrol was ambushed by Chinese troops. One Marine was killed, one was wounded and later recovered by a rescue patrol, and the third patrol member could not be located.

Corporal Zachary Taylor Piercy II, who joined the U.S. Marine Corps from New York, served with the Reconnaissance Company, Headquarters Battalion, 1st Marine Division. He was serving as the point man when the patrol was ambushed on April 12, and his body could not be located following the incident. After the ceasefire, the area where he disappeared became part of the Demilitarized Zone, and his remains were not identified among those returned to the U.S. following the war. Today, Corporal Piercy is memorialized on the Courts of the Missing at the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific. His name is also inscribed on the Korean War Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington, DC, which was updated in 2022 to include the names of the fallen.