CENTER FOR U.S. WAR
VETERANS' ORAL HISTORIES
Korean War
John J. McGlue
Korean War Oral History Interview
US Army, 23rd Infantry Regiment
Date: July 7, 2011
Interviewer: Carol Fowler
Summarizer: Charlotte Larish
Veterans History Project
Summary
John J. McGlue was born in Newark, New Jersey, in 1931. Though he grew up in the city, much of his childhood was spent at his grandparents’ bungalow in Lake Como (then South Belmar). Built in 1928, the bungalow became a summer retreat where McGlue first fell in love with the Jersey Shore, a place McGlue would eventually call home after his military service.
McGlue came from a family of electricians—his father, uncle, and cousins all worked in the trade—and he expected to follow their path. After attending Seton Hall for one year, he transferred to Irvington Vocational and Technical High School to study electrical work. But a restless spirit and early exposure to military life set him on a different course. At sixteen, with the help of a friend’s uncle, McGlue joined the New Jersey National Guard.
In the National Guard, McGlue learned the basics of Army life, driving heavy trucks to summer training camps in upstate New York. He enjoyed the discipline and camaraderie. In January 1949, McGlue enlisted in the U.S. Army.
McGlue was selected for the Honor Guard at Fort Myers, Virginia, and Fort McNair in Washington, D.C.—an elite posting for 17 weeks where soldiers lived in brick barracks, drilled on polished floors, and performed ceremonial duties for dignitaries. He thrived in this environment until June 1950, when the Korean War broke out. At Sunday formation, his commander asked for volunteers to deploy. McGlue raised his hand, scarcely knowing where South Korea was, but ready to serve.
Next thing I know, I’m taking a boat trip to the Orient.
McGlue embarked on a troopship to the Pusan Perimeter in August 1950. The thirteen-day voyage was his first on a large ship, and seasickness sent him to sleep beneath a lifeboat on deck. When the ship arrived in the early evening, he saw flashes on the horizon that was at first mistaken for being lightning. They were artillery bursts—the war had arrived.
Assigned to D Company, 23rd Infantry Regiment, 2nd Division, McGlue was placed in the 81mm Mortar Platoon despite never having seen a mortar before. He learned quickly and joined his new unit in the defense of the Pusan Perimeter.
I didn’t know how lucky I was, being in mortars.
That was when our sergeant just said, “You guys, get outta there; get outta there; they’re swarming all around us!"
One day, while racing across rice paddies under artillery fire to resupply mortars, McGlue and a buddy joked about which of them would be hit first. Moments later, shrapnel tore into McGlue’s leg. Bleeding and unable to walk, he was carried to an aid station. Offered the chance to remain in the rear, McGlue refused, insisting on rejoining his company, although with a limp.
September 15 saw both the Marines and the Army landing at Inchon. “We broke out our Offensive across the river and worked our way to the Yellow Sea”. At Seoul, “first we heard only South Korean troops would go across the 38th parallel, and next thing you know they told us we’re going.” As his unit went through Seoul, they saw their first concrete road. Once in North Korea and in Pyongyang, the advance felt unstoppable.
It was around Thanksgiving, and it was really, really cold. Gen. MacArthur had sent all the winter gear back, since we were supposed to be home by Christmas.
But as the winter weather set in, the Chinese army poured across the Yalu River. At that time, we were approximately 25 miles from the river.
McGlue recalled the shock of the Chinese intervention: the brutal cold, the lack of winter gear, and the endless waves of soldiers. Colonel Paul Freeman, his seasoned regimental commander, knew the true scale of the threat, while higher headquarters dismissed it as a non-problem. Freeman’s foresight, McGlue believed, saved the regiment. Ordered to hold positions along the Ch’ongch’on River, the 23rd Infantry endured days of attacks before being told to pull out. When other units were shattered, Freeman led his regiment out on an alternate, parallel road, avoiding destruction. McGlue never forgot that decision, crediting it with his survival.
In February 1951, McGlue fought in one of the most decisive battles of the war: Chipyong-ni. Surrounded by twelve Chinese divisions, his regiment dug in and held out for days under constant attack. Ammunition was parachuted in by C-119 aircraft, and the mortars fired nonstop. He remembered a battle buddy, Corporal Robert Sherwood of Georgia, who held his position after his machine gun was destroyed, firing a pistol at advancing soldiers until reinforcements arrived. Sherwood was killed, and though recommended for the Medal of Honor, it got knocked down to the Distinguished Service Cross. McGlue never forgot his friend’s bravery, or the pile of 45 enemy soldiers lying in front of his position.
After Chipyong-ni, McGlue and his regiment continued to fight through central Korea, patrolling villages, skirmishing, and enduring harsh conditions. He was wounded more than once—by shrapnel, side of face burns from white phosphorus powder, and a stomach injury from a bullet jacket—but remained with his unit. He received two Purple Hearts, though he declined a third, as well as the Combat Infantryman Badge. (Both of these medals are symbolized on his polo shirt he wears in this interview.) His 23rd Infantry Regiment earned two Presidential Unit Citations; one was for the Battle of Chipyong-ni.
McGlue returned home in June 1952, built a life in New Jersey, married, worked, and settled back at the Jersey Shore where he had spent his youth. Yet the war never left him. He carried memories of comrades lost, the fear of encirclement, and the pride of having endured alongside men he respected. McGlue would later speak on the phone as well as see the men who were his closest battle buddies at reunions of the 23rd Infantry Regiment from the 3 years of the Korean War. McGlue was age 80 at the time of this interview.
McGlue emphasized that civilians must understand the weight veterans carry and the responsibility society bears for the wars fought in its name. His story, like so many others from Korea, is not only about battles won and wounds endured but about resilience, loyalty, and the enduring costs of war.
John J. “Jack” McGlue died on August 11, 2022 at home with family. The Military Order of the Purple Heart was a non-profit named for memorial donations in his name.
