We had been battling across rugged mountains towards our mission, Ormac, which is on the west coast of Leyte, an island of the Philippines. I don’t believe anyone slept much during daily rains on top of Mountain “B”, which sloped down at about a 30 to 40 degree angle.  If you attempted to walk (on the Mountain) all you would do is slide in the mud down its slope.

On December 4, 1944 we went down to the base of Mountain “B”, as usual there was absolute silence. This silence was most eerie to F-511th, because you could feel death, you knew something was going to happen.  As we moved along the trail, you could note that the enemy had placed things along the trail to temp us, but no one touched a thing.  At 11:30 a.m. we stopped, as we were almost to the top of Mountain “A” and had lunch. I ate a small can of cheese and a few crackers. (I have always felt, it was the cheese in me that helped stop the bullets). About 15 feet from me was a G.I. poncho, covering a body, he must have fallen into a picket trap.  I did not attempt to see who he was, the flies were already thick and perhaps a grenade was attached. I had already made up my mind that the enemy was never going to take me alive. More than once I had the safety “off” on my rifle. I always felt, I would take as many as I could, if a final show down would come. As it turned out, I never had a chance to fire my rifle.  I was the commanding officer’s runner for F-511th. Whenever our company halted for whatever reason, I was always either going to the rear or coming to the front.  There was not much rest for this carrier.

Word was passed along that it was time to move forward. The 1st platoon was at the point and Captain Charlie Morgan, (F-511th PIR C.O.) Greg and I were about 7th or 10th from the point. Suddenly, rifle fire broke loose. One bullet passed my cheek so close that I could feel the hot filing from the bullet. I thought it was a stray bullet, so I knelt down. Then I heard a “ka-thud” into the embankment near me. That bullet had just missed me, now I knew that someone had me in their sights. What a feeling! I decided to move. The strange thing is, Capt. Morgan is a good sized man and here the Japanese were after me and not him. Just as I stood up to move, I was hit five times, but only three penetrated my body, all in my abdomen. One bullet hit my cartridge belt, just missing the two hand grenades I had hanging on my belt. The other bullet hit my brass belt buckle and curved it into a “V” shape. Before I checked my wounds, I looked up to see where the enemy was  and said if soft words, “Go ahead and shoot you ___ __ _ _____.” I was waiting for more bullets to smash my face in and end it all. My anger could have possible saved my life, because shock can kill.

To my amazement, I saw an angel standing on the top of a tree. It looked at me and said, “Have no fear.” Fear left my body immediately and I was afraid of nothing. I looked at Capt. Morgan and said, “Get out, before they get you.” There was no way he could help me. His face had a sad look and what he was thinking, I could only imagine. When the bullets hit me, they did not knock me down, they only spun me half way around. It felt as if I had swallowed hot rivets, in addition to the feeling of being hit in the stomach with a sledge hammer. I was not able to open my damaged belt buckle, so I unbuttoned my pants and spread them open. I had a hole about as big as my thumb, and blood was trickling out. Not much, so I did not get panicky. At the time, I saw only one hole, I did not know I had two more.

I crawled under a bush, expecting that this was it. I looked at my Cameo ring and I said to myself, “It won’t be long now before a Japanese will be wearing it.” As I lay there it began to sprinkle, I can still remember hearing the rain, as it fell on the leaves. At this point of time, (I closed my eyes to die), I began to hear thousands of voices singing. They were angels singing, and even though there were thousands of voices, it sounded as one. I must have lost consciousness, when I opened my eyes, I saw Whitey Reith looking at me. His face was pale (usually tan). I heard someone speaking to Reith, “We are trapped and we are going to have to withdraw.” This meant I would be captured alive and I could see the enemy grinning over me. I felt I had to do something, so I reached for my rifle to finish the job, but my rifle had fallen the other way when I was hit and could not move to retrieve it. Greg came to me and said, “I’m going to get you out of here.” I said, “Get out before they get you.” It was an old Japanese trick to wound a man and then kill everyone who came to his aid. I had a flashback about Greg. Once when we were talking seriously (back in the U.S.) about combat, he stated “I’m not going to help anyone, if they get it, it is just to bad.” I had said to myself, “Wouldn’t it be something is he were the one who was wounded.” But Greg forgot about himself and risked his life to save mine.

When I was first wounded, I felt that the war was over for me. I had joy in thinking, no more aching backs, no more wet feet and no more marching. Well, Greg got me up on my feet and we started down the trail as snipers were trying to pick us off. To get out of the enemy fire we rolled over an embankment into a little defile. Someone then said, “Spring, look at your stomach, your intestines are coming out.” They unpacked two first-aid packets and put them over my wounds. To get out, we had to get back on the trail. I passed out shortly after we started and to this day I only have stories of how and when.

The next time that I came to, four men were carrying me. I do not recall if I was on a medic litter or a poncho-rifle litter. I felt like I was a dead man. Snipers were firing and the trail was most difficult for the litter bearers to walk on. I informed them to give me a rifle and just put me alongside of the trail, but they would not listen. With all the firing going on, I felt (in any minute) they would fall with bullets in them. As they carried me down the trail we came upon a river.  Crossing a river is a hazard, anything can happen during the traverse. Prior to our crossing, the medic shot me with morphine.

The next time when I opened my eyes, they were getting ready to operate. They had me on a hillside, where there was no tent, no hospital, no lights only flashlights. Darkness was setting in. As I looked up, I saw them use a bayonet to cut off my pants and boots. The surgeon, Captain Thomas Nestor, leaned over me and said, “Spring I am going to give you ether, so breathe deeply.” I wanted to get the fumes and not the ether, so I breathed deeply. In a few moments I was in twilight zone. Later I was informed, because of my wounds, they were digging my grave, while I was being operated on!!

Epilogue: Spring did make it through the night. Later a L-5 was used to fly him out and he was boarded on the “USS Hope”, a Navy hospital ship.  After arriving at the VA Hospital in Chicago, IL, he had skin grafts to repair his abdomen. He was declared to be 60% disabled.  Harold passed away in Bay City MI on Nov. 14, 2001.

Editing provided by Leo Kocher – G-511th

Courtesy of “Winds Aloft” Quarterly publication of the 511th PIR Association