Thread by @CSenco

2/2 Chip Yong Ni conclusion-
and now that it’s light, the mighty Air Force is raining napalm hate on the PLA to give the boys on the ground a breather and it’s working, but they’re getting low on ammo, but hey that’s why they had bayonets. They spend the day distributing ammo,

reinforcing their positions and, as for the 37th Field Artillery, identifying potential buildings the enemy might use to attack and blowing them all to fuck. And if there’s one thing that everyone can admit they want to see,

no matter how much you hate listening to Artillery branch run its fucking suck, it’s a 155mm Howitzer nuking something using a direct lay fire mission. Except in one instance, when the nuked a building and 15 or so PLA dickheads who were hiding in it from the night before

take off running to try to attack, presumably thinking the artillerymen an easy target. Except the Frenchie machine gun teams overwatching the battery are all too happy to cut those bastards in half, presumably “oh-hoh-HOH”-ing (Frenchily) with their pinkies up the whole time.

So the sun sets and everyone knows what’s coming and it does. Another attack, with major action starting around 0200, when the PLA knuckleheads sneak up to the French portion of the line, likely thinking it a soft point, blow bugles, scream, blow whistles, fix bayonets and charge

Now normally this is when the brave defenders hold their ground and try to calmly pick off as many of the charging enemy as they can until they’re forced to meet the enemy hand-to-hand. For THESE Frenchmen, not so much. These crazy motherfuckers drop their wine and cheese,

grab their bayonet-affixed rifles in one hand, grenades in the other and charge directly into the once brave, now understandably befuddled PLA soldiers whilst throwing said grenades and screaming. I’ve thrown my share of grenades in my time,

but I’ve never thrown one while running, and definitely not IN THE DIRECTION I WAS RUNNING. The young PLA gentlemen graciously cede the field to the the Frenchmen and unanimously agree to NEVER BOTHER THEM AGAIN. Otherwise, around the line now that they’re low on pretty much

every kind of ammo, there’s some good natured “keep-away” played with the hills surrounding the Chipyong-Ni valley with the UN Forces winning the pick up game of “King-of-the-Hill”. No big deal, but it keeps going for TWO MORE DAYS. Infantrymen dropping fools, Artillerymen

cooking dudes, radio operators canoeing foreheads, cooks scoring knife kills, napalm fucking EVERYWHERE. The Chinese commander shows up on Day 3 and is like, “Hey guys, whats the hold up, I thought we were agreed on not letting these guys slow us down”

and his staff is all “Uh, we’re at 1000 dead and 3000 casualties. Kinda hit a speed bump, boss”. And he’s all “WHOA, that’s a lot. Let’s roll, we have certainly seen our high-water mark for this war and our hopes of driving the UN Forces into the sea have been handily dashed by

these steely-eyed, barrel-chested freedom fighters. I dare say they’ve broken that back of our offensive”. So they scuttle back north and as soon as the last PLA Soldiers are out of sight, OF COURSE, a couple US tanks come rolling into town yelling “FUCK YEAH WE SAVED THE DAY,

YOU’RE WELCOME, GUYS” because we all know those fucks just LOVE pretending they were the deciding factor in any battle they slept through.

In all, the 23rd Infantry “Tomahawks”, as they’d come to be known, exemplified the US Army’s historical ability to look at adversity, overwhelming odds and certain doom and demonstrate that sometimes all you need is the ability to say:

“Nah, fam. Fuck that. We stayin’”