Thomas Greenway tells his story from his home near Columbus, North Carolina.
“They call you ‘Doc’ on the
front line.”Â
By Michael McCarthy
âThis is part of my great-grandfatherâs place right here. I worked about a year in Community Cash store in Spartanburg. I was just out of high school in â49. I joined the Air Force to keep out of the Army, but they froze enlistment.
âI was supposed to go on a Monday. They called and said they was people sleeping in pup tents out in Texas, so I just went back to work for another six months. Got a letter from Harry [Truman], he said, âAre you ready to go to Korea?â
âJune 19, 1951, I was drafted into the Army. I was still waiting to be called into the Air Force. I went down to Fort Jackson along with my friends Bryant and Womack from Rutherfordton. They were both medics. Bryant was killed in Korea and received the Medal of Honor. They had a bridge in Korea named after him.”
Medics and a Barefoot Hitchhiker
âWe went to Fort Meade, Maryland and got medical training. âI bought a â46 Ford convertible while I was at Fort Meade. Iâd charge five or six fellas ten dollars apiece to drive home from Fort Meade. One time, Bryant told me, âI wonât be riding with you this week.â My wife came by with the car. She was staying with her sister out in Baltimore. She came by and picked us up. Bryant said, âYou got room for me?â I said, âWe got six in this car, three in each seat. If it will help you, Iâll take your duffel bag.â
He raised the trunk and said, âLet me put these boots in that duffel bag and Iâll run back and get my shoes.â Heâd forgot he already had everything packed and his shoes were in his duffel bag. We left. So he hitchhiked barefoot. They stopped in Salisbury, North Carolina, and he went to a store to buy some shoes. He had great big feet. They said it looked like plow shoes.
âWeâd get caught sometimes. He said, âHow fast was you going?’ The man that was driving said, âFifty-five. We was going home on a weekend pass.â The patrolman said, âI want you to get home. Iâm going to say youâre going to a funeral.â
“Bryant went straight to Korea as a front-line medic. I went to Fort Sam Houston and took a medical technician course. By the first of 1952, I was on the way to Korea.”
Above, CPL Thomas Greenway at Punchbowl
(the bowl-shaped Haean Basin), Gangwon Province, Korea
Dog Tags for KP Duty
âOne funny thing that happenedâthey put you on KP for 12 or 15 hours. They take your dog tag and give it back to you after KP. I found a bunch of dog tags. When theyâd ask me for my dog tag, Iâd give âem one them.
“I got on the ship and it was 18 days to Japan and another three days to Incheon, Korea. They didnât have a gangplank, they had something like a cattle chute. They backed up to the shore and let us off. I went to Yong-Dong Po near the Hahn Riverâ45th Replacement Center.”
Left, evacuation hospital at Yong Dong Po, Korea. Right, Aid station in the Punchbowl, Haean Basin
On the Front Line in Korea
âI went to hospital which was a bombed-out schoolhouse. I thought I had it madeâI was supposed to be stationed there permanently. After about two months, they started needing front-line medics.
“I didnât wear glasses or anything; I was what they call a 1A profile and I was trained to go through tunnels and everything, going to the front line as a front-line medic.
âIâd go out on patrol with 12 infantry men. These same men in the States who called you pedal-pusher or bedpan commander or something like that. Over in Korea on the front-line, theyâd call you ‘Doc.'”
Above, ward master at evacuation hospital 121
Setting Up the 38th Parallel
âI went out on patrol two or three times. You could hear North Korean soldiers talking. By then weâd got the white uniforms and you could lay down in the snow and just look like a wad of snow. About the last of 1952, they set up that 38th parallel. Didnât have cell phones. They had those field phones where youâd pull the wire out from a spool.
âThe last few times, weâd pull that wire and wrap it around a fence post or something. You were supposed to go a mile into no-manâs land. Weâd just go about 75 yards and just lay out there in the snow. We were listening for the North Koreans. Sometimes they played a recording to make is sound like they were walking around. We never did have any opposition after the 38th parallel.”
R & R in Japan
âIn January of 1953, I went to Japan on R&R. A man said there was three places we could go: Tokyo, Osaka, or Kakura, said, âIt donât make any difference to meâjust to get away from this place. Either one of them will be fine.’ I went to Kakura.
So seven days later, we got back to Seoul and found out the plane that was going to Tokyo had crashed and everyone was killed. There was a lieutenant out on the platform waiting for us with pens and papers. He told us to write home to let our families know we were all right. I had called my wife on the phone [so she already knew I was OK]. You could talk on the phone for three minutes for $10.00. I had got on a rickshaw and gone to make that phone call.”
Heartbreak Ridge, Living in Sandbag Bunkers
âThe bunkers were made with pine logs with sandbags on the sides and top. I went back on duty for about a month after that and moved back behind the lines and lived in a tent. That was the last time we was on the front line. I had enough points to come home. A boy about six foot tall came and told me, âYour name and mine are on the list to rotate back.â I lifted him off the ground like he was easy to lift.
“After that I went back into the mail room to tell them where to send my mail. I seen a package on the floor that said Donald R. Gilbert. I said, âI know that name. I know his mother and first cousin.â He was a regimental surgeon in the 45th division. He had an office in Green Creek, North Carolina. He was my dadâs second cousin.”
Left, Greenway’s medic combat medal for 30 days on the front lines. Right CPL Tom Greenway at the front lines.
âAbout lunchtime he called me and said, âYouâll be eating with us tonight.â I said, âI donât know about a corporal eating with a captain.â We had meat loaf. He told me, âIf youâll stay over here, Iâll have you looking like a zebra, stripes on your sleeve.â I said, âStripes wonât look too good on a civilian shirt.â
“He said, âWhen you get home, tell my grandmother and grandfather and Uncle Charlie and Aunt Lizâtell them Iâm all right.â They lived right across the road from me. He [Dr. Gilbert] was from Virginia, went to school and made a surgeon. He came to Columbus, North Carolina, and was a kidney specialist. I had kidney stones and went to him.”
Going Home to North Carolina
âI went home on the ship General Nelson Walker, a great big ship they carried the presidents on. We got on a plane from San Francisco. After about five or six hours we landed in Columbia, ¶¶ÒőLive. The next day was Saturday and they told us we could have a pass to go 50 miles from the base, Fort Jackson. My son, Brad, had been born while I was in Korea. A bunch of us put another zero on that 50 miles to make it 500 and came all the way up here to Polk County. We caught a taxi to Spartanburg and then hitchhiked home.
âMy dad took me back to Fort Jackson on Wednesday and I got discharged. They had a line for mustering out, which was about $300.00, I think. They told us, âNow thereâll be a man at the end of the line asking you if you want to re-up. Just say no gently and softly. Donât be hollering the H-word.â
âMy wife was Ruth Turner. We both graduated from Green Creek High School. She was a senior in high school. We both had to lie about our ages when we got married. It wasnât supposed to last but six months, but it lasted, be 70 years in June. We married June 11, 1951.”
Life After the Army
After I got out of the Army, I went back to the Community Cash grocery store. Then I worked at A&P in Tryon, North Carolina, eight hours less work and closer home. Then I went to Firestone in Spartanburg and worked as a timekeeper for 30 years. They had just moved their plant form Akron, Ohio to Spartanburgâabout 500 people worked there. They made truck grills, frames that go inside TVs, and lawn mower frames.
âI wasnât planning on staying there long because I was pouring concrete on my own. They told me, âWeâre going to put you in the time office, working in the supply room.â I said, âI donât know about that.â The big man over the whole plant said, âYouâll make a lot of mistakes but nobodyâs going to say nothing about it till youâre good enough.â It was keeping up with downtime and uptime for 50-75 men, and percentage and all that.
âAfter about three weeks in there I decided I was going to look for something else. I went out to lunch one night and came back in. The head man came in and said, âTom, how do you like the job in the time office?â I said, âI donât. Iâm going to be looking for something else.â He said, âWe have confidence in you. Why donât you have some in yourself?â
âI went back in there and I got to thinking after about 30 minutes, âThat manâs trying to help me.’ I said ‘Iâm going to stay here and be the best timekeeper they ever had.â They had a big turnover in there. I stayed in there till I retired. And they called me back four times after I retired.â
This is a facinating oral history. Mr. Greenway, as trite as it sounds, I truly thank you for serving our country in the Korean War. I met you at the funeral for Ann Thompson, i wish i had read this before that meeting. i have so many questions now. God Bless you.