“An unusual individual, certainly one of the most perplexing I have ever known. Tends to be quixotic; is in-dwelling; possesses a rare sense of humor which is sometimes misunderstood. Has a flair for the fields of endeavor where scientific or technical research are required.” These were the words of an officer’s review of Charles Brass near the end of his career in the Army, but it is of no surprise given his origins. At home in Clarksburg, West Virginia, he raised goats, hogs, cattle, ducks and hens and grew oats, hay, corn and more. He had a keen interest in botany and chemistry and was skilled enough in violin and mandolin. After graduating high school in 1938, he attended Evangeline College to earn a commission in the Salvation Army, which he ultimately achieved in May 1941 and was appointed to Baltimore, Maryland. For fifteen months, he was a local clergyman preaching and offering welfare work out of his small post.
At the end of August 1942, Brass gave up his duties with the Salvation Army and joined the United States Army at the age of twenty-two. In two days, he was assigned to D Company, 6th Medical Battalion, 6th Infantry Division. They had recently returned to Fort Leonard Wood from the Louisiana Maneuvers, but departed soon after for the Tennessee Maneuvers. It was a quick transition for Charlie and the two-month-long exercises simulated real battle conditions over a vast area, which were more action-packed than previous ones in Louisiana. From there, they were off to desert training near the California-Arizona border, preparing for possible deployment to North Africa. The harsh desert conditions tested their endurance, with relentless sandstorms, difficult terrain, and new challenges like the "desert square" formation, which involved coordinating large numbers of vehicles. Despite the intensity, the success of the North Africa campaign reduced the need for additional divisions, and by March 1943, the Division relocated to Camp San Luis Obispo in California. There, they transitioned from motorized to jungle warfare training. After two months, the Division was alerted for overseas deployment, and after final preparations, they sailed for their first overseas assignment.
PACIFIC
Their primary mission in Hawaii was the defense of Oahu, including Schofield Barracks, Hickam Field, and Pearl Harbor. Despite the Navy's rapid recovery and early success across the Pacific, enemy attacks were still a concern and their days were filled with extensive patrolling of beaches against potential submarine assaults or sabotage efforts. Courses in jungle navigation, field sanitation, and assault landings becoming routine. The near-perfect weather of Hawaii was considered a drawback as it was too enjoyable and lacked the harsher elements of rain, heat, and mud that they would later face in combat. Outside of their rigorous training, the soldiers enjoyed frequent recreation on the island, from beaches to luaus, but within the year were facing debarkation again, this time for their final destination in the Southwest Pacific.
As the soldiers arrived in New Guinea, they were confronted by dense jungles and severe weather in Milne Bay. They had nothing the first night and prepared to sleep out in the open without a kitchen. Fortunately, a Navy Seabee unit across the road invited them over with a welcoming, “Come on boys, we got plenty of food left!” They stayed for several days before moving down the road to clear the jungle and set up tents. They had to construct roads from coconut logs and buildings with thatched roofs, often relying on help from Aussie-supervised native laborers. Beneath every log was a snake and the air was thick with malaria-carrying insects. While they worked, anticipation of combat grew as they followed war news in the South West Pacific Area. The Japanese were just across the island and soon they would be facing them to take northwest New Guinea.
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The first battle for the 6th Division became known as Lone Tree Hill for the single icon marked on their maps. After the initial landing, the medical battalion came ashore and established itself next to a swamp with .50-calibers in dug outs to ward off any daring Japanese. While at Maffin Bay from June 15th to July 15th, the battalion suffered from a shortage of medical officers and saw an overwhelming amount of casualties. Through constant rain and thick mud, casualties came in through jungle trails riddled with enemy fire to receive the best possible treatment through the clearing company.
Brass’ D Company, the clearing company for the battalion and the last element in the Division medical service, sorted and treated patients evacuated by the collecting companies. The work of his 1st Platoon, to Charlies’ delight, was predominantly technical and spanned multiple departments in their tent station: outside of the main office was a receiving department with sections for seriously wounded and slightly wounded casualties, shock patients, an operating section, a dental department, laboratory, supply and storage department, mess section, forwarding department, and a morgue.
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The battle for Sansapor followed and instead of facing combat casualties, the battalion chased the tiny red mite responsible for scrub typhus. The first case was diagnosed on August 8th and the medical personnel immediately took action as the outbreak reached epidemic proportions. The 6th Medical Battalion was the only unit in the Sansapor area for seventeen days. They alone had to handle the mass amount of typhus cases in addition to other casualties. ‘Clothing was impregnated, mite-breeding areas of kunai grass were burned, and the entire beachhead area was sprayed with DDT.’ The clearing company alone, with a bed capacity of two hundred, averaged more than three hundred bed patients. They worked excruciating twenty-four hour stretches or longer to mitigate the disease, ultimately treating over 1800 cases and maintaining the lowest mortality rate after other medical installations finally arrived. ‘Drivers from the medics' motor pool and mess personnel helped in the ward tents, sanitation teams worked overtime on the infected areas, doctors and aid men labored without rest, until finally, during the last week in August, the minute but deadly enemy was defeated.’
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In preparation for the Luzon operation, the medical battalion procured and distributed all necessary medical supplies for the Division and attached troops. They landed and Lingayen Gulf and immediately were called on for treating civilians and supporiting Corps and Army units. They did not fall short of supporting their Division despite these additional responsibilities. The assault through the Philippines was of a different nature than New Guinea, where they had been fairly static, and now the battalion was frequently moving on short notice to keep up with the Division. They still had a shortage of officers, leaving technicians like Brass, who had only recently been promoted to Private First Class, alongside corpsmen and orderlies to operate the facilities with commendable effectiveness.
CHONJU
The end of the war brought rapid changes for Charlie. From August 14th, 1945 he was quickly promoted through the technician ranks, whether through performance or vacancies from demobilization, so that by December he was a Technician 3d Grade with experience as a medical corpsman, pharmacists, and back to his previously held occupation as a surgical technician. The Division departed Luzon in October for the mysterious land of Korea for occupation duty. For the first six months at Chonju, the platoon commander recognized Brass’ service with a detailed recommendation for a Commendation Ribbon:
“Through perseverance he has studied Army Medical Department manuals and the few medical texts available, so that he is now thoroughly informed in the science of pharmacology, hematology, and malariology. After mastering these subjects, he personally trained as a laboratory technician, thus greatly increasing the amount and calibre and types of diagnostic laboratory procedures this station can perform of inestimable value in the diagnosis, treatment, and reduction in the number of evacuations of patients this station has to execute.
Sergeant Brass, always with the best of care for the patient in mind, has studied the chemistry of reagents so that he can substitute, with equal efficaciousness, another for those not available. Again, this has greatly increased the amount of work the ‘unauthorized’ laboratory of this station can do.
He is ever on the alert for improvements in the pharmacy and laboratory and has instituted changes that have greatly increased the efficiency of same.
In addition to his knowledge of pharmacy and clinical pathology, he also commands an excellent knowledge of a surgical technician. With the majority of his fellow soldiers being untrained in these subjects, Sergeant Brass has been one of the main says in the operation of this station.
Besides his professional knowledge, he handles without fault the procurement and distribution of medical supplies for the clearing station wards and dispensary and safekeeping and records of narcotics and alcohol.
With practically the entire station ‘on his shoulders,’ he has been ever present on the job. And during his infrequent ‘off-duty’ hours he has responded to emergency and non-emergency calls without consideration of the inconveniences to himself with a willingness that deserves the highest praises.
In summary it may be said that Sergeant Brass has performed in a manner that meets the highest expectations of the Hippocratic principles of the care of the sick and injured.”
The well-deserved citation, by Captain Frank B. Lee, commanding the platoon, was approved by the company commander, Captain Victor H. Beinke, and battalion commander, Captain Maurice M. Wicklund. However, once at Division, though the assistant division commander recommended approval, Major General Brown was harsh and stingy in denying the award ‘since superior performance of duty alone is not considered a basis for the recommended award.’ Recognition for a proper Commendation Ribbon would have to wait another five years.
KOREA
The medical company of Korea came out of post-war revisions based on lessons learned. The Medical Department sought to reduce the dependency on the Division and created a more versatile company within each infantry regiment which could distribute a platoon to each battalion. In late January 1951, Sergeant Brass joined Medical Company, 5th Regiment Combat Team as an aidman. He was one of thirty-five men of the platoon of aidmen, litterbearers, and aid station personnel. The familiar collecting platoon with an ambulance, litterbearer and collecting stations was part of the long train of evacuation points from the line to MASH units and hospitals in Japan.
Despite the collecting station being the rearmost installation of the regimental medical service, it was the furthest forward Brass had ever been. His duties were much the same as they had been from New Guinea to the Philippines – receive, sort, record, treat, evacuate, and repeat – but he had not been so close to gunfire and artillery. He earned his Combat Medical Badge during those first few months.
Casualties came from both combat and the freezing cold as temperatures dropped as low as -27°F in January. What compounded the difficulty was navigating the vicious terrain of the mountians. Evacuations occurred along thin winding roads, if any existed, that were coated in slick ice and deep snow.
As conditions improved in the spring, the Chinese launched daring offensives that brought the total casualties across all clearing stations to 3,873 during May alone. The enemy left in their wake antitank and anti-personnel mines which increased the amount of traumatic amputations along line units. All the while, evacuation was done largely on foot or with abused and worn vehicles. The medical companies were not spared from the violence – in April, part of one of the 5th RCT’s collecting companies was caught in an ambush resulting in seven men killed. The helicopter quickly became a welcome sight and sound in light of the harsh fighting conditions.
From mid-July, Sergeant Brass quickly jumped through the ranks. He was among the most experienced due to his Pacific Theater service, always conscientious of his duties and thriving in the chaotic combat environment, but also present to fill the vacancies left by those rotating home after a first year in combat. He was promoted to Master Sergeant, to be the platoon sergeant, in August 1951, only a month after his promotion to Sergeant First Class. His senior non-commissioned path was short lived when in November he accepted a commission. The promotion to 2d Lieutenant in the Medical Service Corps meant he was the platoon leader and assistant to the surgeon. He joined the 21st Infantry Regiment’s Medical Company during their final months on the line.
They were occupied with fortifying positions and watching the air force pummel hills to their front with 20mm, rockets, bombs, and swaths of napalm. The Chinese had become reclusive and more reliant on mortars and artillery to bombard the 24th Division positions. Small patrol actions replaced larger scale offensives and it became a war of defense and waiting. Instead of returning to Japan with the Division, Charlie transferred back to his old 5th Regimental Combat Team to conclude his Korean tour. He finally received a well-deserved Commendation for his sixteen months in Korea, the text of the citation noting his establishment and operation of a laboratory – presumably a continuation of his passion project ‘unauthorized’ laboratory with the 6th Medical Battalion five years earlier – to diagnose and treat patients.
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He remained very close to the laboratory environment for the rest of his active service career. His fitness reports noted: “On occasion can make the most difficult and detailed tasks appear simple…capable of high performance of duty if he is interested in the assignment. Always been a superior instructor in the medical treatment field.” He was at home in the laboratory and pursued knowledge through Ohio State University, earning a bachelor’s degree in 1957, an M.S. degree in Entomology in 1958, and was working toward a Ph.D. when he passed away in October 1962.