The acrid smell of antiseptic hung in the air of the makeshift field hospital near Hamhung, North Korea. It was November 7, 1950, and US Marine First Lieutenant Kurt Chew-Een Lee lay on a cot with a shattered right elbow and a busted knee, painful souvenirs of his heroic actions at the Battle of Inchon five days earlier. But Lee didn’t care about his war wounds - he knew his men were out there fighting, and he refused to abandon them.
Now, the doctors wanted to send him to Japan for further recovery. Lee knew it was now or never. Under cover of night, he and another wounded Marine silently crept out of the hospital, commandeered an Army jeep, and headed for the frontlines.
When it ran out of gas ten miles short, they pressed on on foot as fast as their injuries would allow. Upon arrival, Lee was quickly given command of the 2nd Rifle Platoon, and soon, they were thrown into the fierce fighting of the Battle of Chosin Reservoir. As the carnage raged around them, on December 2, Lieutenant Colonel Ray Davis gave Lee’s unit a daring mission: to spearhead a 500-man thrust to relieve the besieged Fox Company trapped on Fox Hill - a strategic position vital to controlling the entire region.
Davis had given Lee only one instruction: stay off the heavily fortified roads. Beyond that, Lee was on his own. Laden with extra supplies, Lee's men trudged through deep snow and icy winds.
The temperature had plummeted to 20 degrees below zero, and a blinding blizzard obscured their path. With only a compass as his guide, Lee led the column in single file, his arm still in a sling. Suddenly, enemy fire erupted from a rocky hill, pinning the Marines down.
Lee's mind raced. Their mission couldn't fail - too many lives depended on their success. As bullets whizzed overhead, Lee knew their only hope lay in a daring, almost reckless strategy.
. . Born Chew-Een Lee on January 21, 1926, in San Francisco to Chinese parents of limited means, the future war hero’s family moved to Sacramento soon afterward.
By high school, he already knew what he wanted to do with his life: join the US military. Adopting the name “Kurt,” he joined his school’s Junior Reserve Officers' Training Corps program. By now, the US had entered World War 2, and the patriotic teenager was determined to join the troops on the frontlines.
Having heard that the Marines had a reputation for being the first into battle, upon graduation, he enlisted with the USMC in 1944 at just eighteen years old. At 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighing around 130 pounds, Lee was on the small side for a Marine, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in character, saying: [QUOTE] “I wanted to dispel the notion about the Chinese being meek, bland and obsequious. ” After completing initial training at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego, Lee’s superiors assigned him Japanese language classes in preparation for contact with the enemy in the Pacific theater.
However, Lee’s strong performance in class backfired when he was asked to stay on as the course instructor instead of shipping out to war as he had hoped. Within months, the war was over, and he hadn’t had the chance to get anywhere near the action, leaving him bitterly disappointed. Fortunately for Lee, by October 1945, he was taken on at The Basic School for officer training, graduating in April the following year with the rank of Second Lieutenant, thus becoming the first non-white and the first Asian-American officer in the USMC.
Initially, he was sent to use his language skills to interrogate Japanese prisoners of war in Guam and China. But soon, another war would be on the horizon, and this time, Lee was determined not to miss out. On June 25, 1950, North Korea invaded South Korea, triggering the Korean War.
Suspecting Soviet and Chinese involvement, President Truman committed US forces to a UN-backed defense of South Korea. When the news hit, Kurt Lee was a First Lieutenant leading the 1st Platoon, Company B, 1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment as they trained at Camp Pendleton, near San Diego. By September 1, they were on their way to Korea.
Lee knew there was a good chance he would never make it back home in one piece, but he was ready to accept his fate on the battlefield. He later said: [QUOTE] “Certainly, I was never afraid… Perhaps the Chinese are all fatalists. I never expected to survive the war.
So I was adamant that my death be honorable, be spectacular. ” As Lee and his men embarked on their two-week voyage across the Pacific, he drilled them day and night on the deck, intent on turning his unit into a well-oiled fighting machine ready to take on any situation that the war might throw at them. However, with racial stereotyping still common, some men made fun of Lee, calling him a “Chinese laundry man,” while others doubted his loyalties, suggesting he would not be able to fight the Chinese in Korea.
Upon arriving in Japan for battle preparations, Lee’s superiors decided to reassign him to translation duties. Furious at potentially missing another war, Lee pleaded his case. He later said: [QUOTE] “I would have done whatever was necessary.
To me, it didn’t matter whether those were Chinese, Korean, Mongolian, whatever — they were the enemy. ” Eventually, the commanders agreed to let him remain in charge of his platoon. On September 21, Lee’s battalion stormed the beaches of Inchon, forcing the North Koreans into retreat.
However, the following month, Chinese troops officially entered the conflict, drastically increasing the size of the challenge facing the UN forces. On the night of November 2, Lee’s platoon found itself guarding a key supply route in the Sudong Gorge when they were suddenly subjected to a fierce attack by the Chinese. Outnumbered and caught off-guard, the Marines found their left flank overrun.
Lee later described the scene, saying: [QUOTE] “All hell broke loose. Whole place erupted with gunfire. Explosions.
The cacophony was tremendous. It was like we were in the middle of a trembling bowl of jelly. ” The moment for Lee to prove himself in battle had finally arrived.
Without thinking twice, he surged well ahead of the American lines to perform a daring solo reconnaissance mission, skillfully dodging an intense barrage of automatic gunfire, grenades, and sniper shots as he did so. After assessing the enemy positions, he sprinted back to his men, who were struggling to hold back the Chinese onslaught. Lee could see the seriousness of the situation but refused to be deterred.
He swiftly reorganized his unit, redeploying their machine gun positions within a defensive perimeter, and devised an audacious plan. Putting his life on the line once more, Lee boldly charged up the Chinese-held slope alone as his men provided cover, hoping to draw enemy fire so that their muzzle flashes would reveal their positions to his men. As bullets whizzed past and explosions rocked the ground, Lee pressed on, attacking enemy positions one by one with hand grenades and gunfire.
But unlike most of the other Marines, he had another “secret weapon” up his sleeve: the Mandarin Chinese language. As he approached the enemy troops, he would shout out: (QUOTE) “Don’t shoot, I’m Chinese” in Mandarin; his accent clearly betrayed his American upbringing, but it was just enough to confuse his adversaries for a few moments and give him the upper hand. Inspired by their intrepid lieutenant’s courageous one-man charge, other members of Lee’s platoon soon joined him in a spirited counteroffensive, inflicting several casualties and forcing the enemy to pull back.
Lee was later awarded the prestigious Navy Cross for his actions that night. However, the engagement left him with a badly wounded knee and a shattered elbow, so he was quickly evacuated to a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, or MASH, unit outside near Hamhung. After five long days in the field hospital, Lee had just about had enough.
Though his wounds were serious, he hated being away from his troops, feeling that he had abandoned them, and longed to return to the frontlines. When Lee was informed he would soon be transferred to Japan for an extended recuperation period, it was the final straw. That night, he and another Marine patient escaped from the hospital, took an Army jeep without authorization, and drove as fast as they could toward their units’ position.
Eventually, the jeep ran out of gas, leaving the two men to limp the last ten miles on foot. Upon arrival, Lee was given command of the 2nd Rifle Platoon of Baker Company, replacing their own wounded officer. Though his arm was still in a cast, once again, he led the men through an intense training period, determined to prepare them as well as he could for their next combat situation.
It would soon prove invaluable. During this time, Lee met his younger brother Chew-Mon, a First Lieutenant in the US Army. The Sacramento Bee published a photo and brief report on their meeting.
Lee’s younger brother gifted him some army-issue “banana” magazines, each capable of holding 30 bullets and could be fastened together, allowing for faster reloading without the need to reach into one's cartridge bag. This setup was considered more effective than the standard 15-round magazines utilized by the Marines at that time, helping to make the older Lee even more of a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. The Lee brothers rejoined their units just in time to face the Chinese Second Phase Offensive, which began on November 25 and aimed to push the UN forces back out of North Korea.
On November 30, Chew-Mon Lee earned the Distinguished Service Cross for heroism in combat near Kunu-ri. Meanwhile, Kurt Lee found himself in the rugged mountainous terrain surrounding the Chosin Reservoir as tens of thousands of Chinese troops closed in, vastly outnumbering the UN forces in the region. As the harsh Korean winter set in, Lee led his platoon over frozen wastelands, with temperatures often plummeting to more than twenty degrees below zero.
He was still badly wounded, and now he was getting sick too, but he flatly refused to go back to the hospital - he had a unit to lead. On November 27, the Chinese attacked UN troops near the Reservoir, triggering several days of intense fighting. By December 2, Lee and his men were exhausted, but late in the day, 1st Battalion commanding officer Lieutenant Colonel Ray Davies gave them a crucial mission.
The 8,000 men of Fox Company of the 2nd Battalion, 7th Marines, were nearly overwhelmed by the Chinese on Fox Hill, a strategically vital location for control of the Chosin Reservoir Road, and desperately needed help. Davies’ instructions were minimal; knowing the enemy would be guarding the roads, he warned Lee to stay away from them but told him little else. In spite of the daunting task that lay ahead, the plucky First Lieutenant remained unphased.
Relying solely on his compass, he led the 2nd Rifle Platoon over the unforgiving icy landscape as a swirling snowstorm reduced their visibility to almost zero. As the troops pushed on through the relentless blizzard, suddenly, they were hit by heavy fire coming from a nearby rocky hill. The Marines instantly took cover, but Lee knew they couldn’t afford to waste a single second if they were to have any hope of saving Fox Company.
He had to think of a plan - fast. Racking his brain for a solution that would allow them to advance, he recalled a tactic favored by General George S. Patton during World War 2 called “marching fire,” which involved troops quickly pushing forward in unison while firing their weapons - without stopping to aim - in order to keep the enemy’s heads down.
It was a risky strategy that would leave them exposed to the Chinese bullets, but if they could pull it off, it might just allow them to move ahead. Lee made his decision and gave the order. The Marines boldly surged forward, laying down suppressive fire as they went.
Lee’s gamble paid off; before long, they had reached the rocky hill and started charging toward the enemy foxholes. Even though his arm remained in a cast, Lee himself was able to shoot down two Chinese soldiers as he made his way to the top of the hill. Upon reaching the crest, Lee was surprised to see a vast number of abandoned enemy foxholes on the other side of the hill, all facing the other direction; the Chinese soldiers had fled and were by now over 400 yards away.
The enemy had obviously been expecting the Marines to attack from the road, but the Americans’ unexpected flanking maneuver had caught them completely off guard. Now that the Chinese were withdrawing from the area, communication could be established with Fox Company, who were still putting up a dogged defense of Fox Hill. The 1st Battalion unleashed a barrage of high-explosive mortar rounds on the retreating enemy, combining the assault with an air strike while Lee led Baker Company through the chaos toward their beleaguered comrades in Fox Company.
As they pressed forward, Lee's upper arm was hit by Chinese gunfire, just above the cast on his elbow. Despite the fresh wound, Lee soldiered on, rallying his troops before driving them onward through a series of fierce skirmishes throughout the Toktong Pass until they ultimately secured the vital roadway, opening a lifeline to their isolated fellow Marines. While Lee and his men had successfully accomplished their mission of saving Fox Company, the Battle of Chosin Reservoir was far from over.
On December 8, Lee’s platoon once again found themselves pinned down by heavy enemy fire while advancing south from Koto-ri. Recognizing the mounting casualties from the intense barrage, Lee fearlessly put himself in the line of fire as he moved among his troops to offer encouragement while directing them to withdraw to cover, ensuring each of the wounded men made it to safety. With all the casualties under cover, he finally turned to seek shelter for himself, but just at that moment, he was caught by enemy machine gun fire.
The resulting wounds were enough to bring an end to Lee’s Korean War service, but his sterling efforts at the Battle of Chosin Reservoir were recognized with a Silver Star. Reflecting on the battle in 2002, Ray Davies, now a general, described Lee as the bravest Marine he had ever known. After the Korean War, Lee remained a committed Marine, rising up through the ranks until he became a Major in 1963.
The same year, he became chief of the Platoon Tactics Instruction Group, a position in which he would train future generations of USMC commanders, including Charles C. Krulak and Jack Sheehan, who both eventually became generals. In 1965, he returned to Asia to serve as Division Combat Intelligence Officer for the 3rd Marine Division, III Marine Amphibious Force in Vietnam.
In this role, he created a division-level translation team in order to rapidly process foreign-language documents captured from the enemy before retiring from military life in 1968. He passed away in Washington, DC in 2014.
