"Mister Yancey wants to see bayonets on the ends of those rifles," was the order passed from foxhole to foxhole by the men of Easy Company's Second Platoon spread out in a defensive position on hill 1282 near the frozen Chosin Reservoir during one frigid winter night of 1950.
"Mister Yancey" was 1st Lt. John Yancey, commanding Easy Company of the 7th Marines. The men in the foxholes wondered uncomfortably what Yancey knew that they didn't know, but they trusted the 32-year-old native of Plumerville, Ark. The fact that they called him Mister Yancey instead of Lieutenant indicated the high degree of respect his men had for him. They knew of his World War II record: a veteran of the battle of Saipan and his Navy Cross that was awarded for his action on Guadalcanal.
He would have been in his mid-40s when I first saw him. He would come into the South Side Station of the Little Rock Post Office to buy stamps, where I as a new employee worked as a window clerk every other week. He was of average build, dark-haired, and his handsome face bore the marks of old battle wounds. My coworkers told me he was a war hero of some kind.
The name stayed with me through the years, but it was much later before I learned details of his life and military service. The men in the foxholes found out later that bitterly cold night why bayonets were needed. But not right away; some began to think the enemy might not show up. But shortly after midnight, what sounded like thousands of feet crunching across the frozen ground quickly got their attention.
Star shells blossomed in the night sky, revealing hordes of enemy soldiers advancing up the hill. One young soldier wondered aloud "How many Chinese soldiers does it take to make up a horde?" Yancey ignored him. They held their fire until the last minute: Burp guns and Thompsons against BARS and M1s. The Chinese soldiers fell in waves, but kept coming.
Before the night of horror was over, Yancey had been blown 20 feet by an exploding grenade. A fragment lodged in the roof of his mouth, another sliced off the bridge of his nose, teeth were knocked out, and his jaw was broken, but he kept fighting and rallying his men until relief came.
Only then was he taken to an aid station, and from there to Hamhung, then to an Army hospital in Japan. The war was over for Mister Yancey.
All total, Yancey was awarded two Navy Crosses, a Silver Star, a Bronze Star, and three Purple Hearts. After he was well enough, he was returned to his home in Little Rock, where he was eventually promoted to captain in the Marine Reserves, commanding the 6th Rifle Company, 8th Marine Corps District.
He tried to re-enlist during the Vietnam War but was rejected. He was told he did not have enough teeth. He was reported to have said to the Marine recruiters, "I wasn't planning on chewing them to death."
John "Mister" Yancey died on May 16, 1986. Former governor, close friend, and fellow Marine Sidney McMath took charge of his funeral. He rests in the Little Rock National Cemetery.
A department of the Marine Corps League in Texas bears his name. He should have received the Medal of Honor for his bravery in Korea, except for a technicality: His superior officers that might have written him up for the award were all killed in battle.
John McPherson lives in Searcy.