Korean War battle hero Joseph Clemons Jr.
On the official records it was Hill 255. The mountainous Korean outpost, nicknamed Pork Chop Hill for its vague resemblance to the loin cut, had been the site of frequent skirmishes since the conflict began in 1950. The land itself, like many of the hills just beyond the Allies’ main line of resistance, had no inherent tactical value.
But in spring 1953, it became one of the bloodiest and most controversial combat operations of the Korean War and a defining moment in the life of Joseph G. Clemons Jr., a 25-year-old first lieutenant and U.S. Military Academy at West Point graduate who commanded King company in the 7th Infantry Division.
His actions, defending the crest of the hill with a small, beleaguered unit, would result in his immortalization in a best-selling book by eminent military historian S.L.A. Marshall and a Hollywood film in which he was portrayed by Gregory Peck. He died May 15 at 90, after a long and highly decorated military career in which he rose to the rank of colonel.
A Baltimore high school graduate, Clemons had enlisted in the Army at 17 to qualify for the G.I. Bill. He later won an appointment to the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, N.Y., and obtained his degree in 1951. The next year, within days of his arrival in Korea, his defense of a position near Kumhwa that involved unrelenting bunker-to-bunker combat earned him the Distinguished Service Cross, the military’s second-highest award for valor.
But it was his actions at Pork Chop Hill over two days in April 1953 that became the centerpiece of his military legacy. Stalemated truce talks and prisoner-of-war exchanges about 60 miles away at Panmunjom imbued the otherwise militarily worthless hill with immense political and propaganda value.
The Chinese, which formed the main ground forces of the Communist North and occupied most of the front-line area, staged a major attack on April 16, followed by an Allied counterattack the next day. Whichever side prevailed would emerge at the negotiating table with an advantage that could be parlayed into a bargaining chip for important concessions.
As part of the effort to repulse the Chinese, Clemons was tasked before dawn on the 17th with advancing up the rear slope of the steep terrain with 135 soldiers, clearing out the enemy bunkers and trenches, and maintaining control until relief arrived; two platoons from another company were to proceed from other directions.
It proved a grueling, time-consuming task, with men weighed down by loads of ammunition and others carting boxes of grenades over rocky land strewn with wire. As they scaled the hill, a freefor-all of grenade and artillery fire caused mass casualties on both sides. At daybreak, only 25 members of his company remained unwounded. They were dug in high on the hill, a virtual moonscape of artillery-blasted craters and collapsed bunkers.
He could not push forward any further and still ensure safe evacuation of the wounded. His supply lines were stressed. Requests for water, plasma, flamethrowers, ammunition and working radios largely went unfulfilled. His soldiers were physically depleted as they sheltered in a bunker. The Chinese still held an estimated two-thirds of the trench line, and the fighting flared up at intervals.
Clemons radioed division headquarters for support. A fresh unit arrived — including, much to his surprise, his brother-in-law — under the impression that the operation was almost over, just a mop-up job.
According to Marshall’s book, Clemons’ dire radio and written messages had never explicitly stated the high casualty rates, and his commanders had assumed that the men were fatigued but could nonetheless fulfill their mission.
It was only after others also sent in their reports that relief began to pour in after the Japan-based Far East Command decided the hill was worth retaining at all costs. Reinforcements finally arrived late on the 17th, and Clemons returned to base. Only 14 of his men walked down the hill, with 121 killed or wounded over the previous day.