The Making Of The British Army (63 page)

The Korean terrain was not entirely alien to those with experience of the North-West Frontier or Italy – a bare and mountainous landscape of scattered farms and villages – but to the National Servicemen who made up the bulk of the army it might as well have been the moon. In the summer it was hot and humid; in the winter it was bitterly cold. British units were relieved every twelve to fifteen months (and sometimes after only six) during the three years of the fighting, so that by the end of the war a good many soldiers – in the infantry especially – were wearing the British Korea Medal and that of the United Nations, the UN’s first campaign medal. But one action in particular, at the Imjin River between 22 and 25 April 1951, has passed into army legend to
stand with those of earlier wars – including Arnhem and Rorke’s Drift – as an example of defiant defence against the odds, demonstrating yet again how much rested on the fighting spirit of the infantry.

The Chinese had launched their spring counter-offensive against UN forces on the lower Imjin, close to the border, with the aim of breaking through to recapture the South Korean capital, Seoul. The British 29th Infantry Brigade, consisting of the first battalions of the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers, the Gloucestershire Regiment (‘Glosters’) and the Royal Ulster Rifles, together with a Belgian battalion and its company of Luxembourgers, supported by tanks and artillery, held the westernmost part of the UN line, astride the main road to Seoul, with the 1st Republic of Korea (ROK) Division to their west and the Americans to their east (the Commonwealth Division had not yet been formed, so the brigade answered direct to the US corps HQ). The brigade’s frontage was 12 miles long in mountainous country – far too long for the four battalions to cover while also giving each other support. Nor were the actual positions prepared as strongly as they might have been. Digging had not been extensive, and wiring and mining were almost perfunctory, for the UN forces had been on the offensive, pushing the Chinese and North Koreans back across the border, and they regarded the Imjin as a pause-line from which to continue the advance as soon as the situation allowed. A Chinese counter-attack had been talked about, but few were taking it seriously, especially since patrols north of the river found little evidence of a build-up of troops. Despite the lessons of history, scant heed was given to the old adage that ‘sweat saves blood’.

In making the best of a difficult hand, the brigade commander, Brigadier Tom Brodie, had also gambled on a compromise to achieve both coverage of his entire front and mutual support between battalions. He sited the battalions on the best of the high ground, aligned north-east to south-west, with the Belgians on the right, north of the river, the Fusiliers a mile to their left but south of the river, and the Glosters a mile and a half further left of the Fusiliers, with the Ulster Rifles and C Squadron 8th Hussars (sixteen Centurion tanks) in reserve 2 miles to the rear. In turn, the four companies of each battalion were sited four-square but not as tight as the commanding officers would have preferred (as was customary at that time, defensive positions were ‘sited two down’ – the brigade commander siting the companies, the battalion’s commanding officer the platoons, and so on). It would have
been better, as both the Fusiliers’ and Glosters’ commanding officers argued, to site the brigade more tightly, denying penetration
between
battalions, and dealing with any outflanking movement by concentrated artillery fire and the reserve, although the brigade had no guns heavier than 25-pounders, and no means to call on heavier calibres from the neighbouring US division (though that problem could have been fixed relatively easily). So far in Korea the infantry had been copying the tactics of 8th Army in the mountains of Italy, but Brodie had commanded a brigade column in the second Chindit campaign and had therefore lived with the idea of being encircled; it is just possible that he saw no more reason to be dismayed at the prospect of Chinese penetration in mountainous terrain than he had been at Japanese encirclement in the jungle.

Late in the day on the twenty-second, the brigade learned that there were Chinese troops moving towards them in strength, and so the battalions ordered 50 per cent stand-to-arms throughout the night. Darkness fell, and the first encounter was a brush with a Chinese patrol that had slipped undetected round the Belgians towards the two bridges across the Imjin to their rear. An Ulster Rifles platoon deploying (late) to secure the crossings for the night was driven back with heavy losses. Chinese follow-up forces now attacked the Belgian positions and took the bridges, while others forded the river and attacked the neighbouring Fusiliers’ right rear (‘Z’) company. Further downstream, more Chinese troops managed to get across and attacked the Fusiliers’ left forward (‘X’) company. Too far from the other Fusilier companies for support, ‘X’ Company withdrew closer into the centre of the battalion position before first light, which in turn exposed the right forward (‘Y’) company. Pressure increased as the Chinese encirclement progressed, each company compelled to fight by itself rather than in a concerted battalion action, and all but ‘W’ Company in the left rear, with the guns of 45 Field Regiment Royal Artillery close by, began steadily giving ground.

It was St George’s Day, the Fusiliers’ regimental day. Red and white roses had been flown in from Hong Kong for each man to wear with the red and white hackle in his beret. Instead of the customary rose presentation parade, however, the battalion spent the whole day fighting – repelling attack after attack, and making costly counter-attacks to recover lost ground. If it would not go down in history as one of the regiment’s finest days (for ‘X’ Company might have held on longer,
keeping the battalion position more intact) there was raw courage enough – the Fusiliers, the old 5th Regiment of Foot, were not nicknamed ‘The Fighting Fifth’ for nothing (‘Z’ Company commander would receive one of the brigade’s three DSOs for his leadership, which says enough). But faulty deployment did for them in the end, and by evening they had been pushed off their hills, though they managed to keep cohesion as they pulled back, and in turn helped cover the withdrawal of the Belgians (who had also fought a good action).

On the far left of the brigade, on Hill 314, were the Glosters, who had earned their distinctive ‘back-badge’ (a miniature of their Sphinx badge but worn on the back of the beret) by fighting back-to-back at Alexandria in 1801.
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Their position was even further out on a limb, though the companies were sited rather more tightly than the Fusiliers’ had been, and in their commanding officer and adjutant they had two men of extraordinary and complementary character – Lieutenant-Colonel James Power Carne and Captain Anthony Farrar-Hockley. Carne was 45, old for a commanding officer even in 1951 when the army had not yet settled back into its promotion routine. Pipe-smoking, taciturn to the point of seeming inarticulate, even with his DSO from Burma ‘Fred’ Carne had never in his service been described as a high-flier; but in such a predicament as the Glosters’ now, he was probably the best sort of commanding officer they could have had. Farrar-Hockley, on the other hand, was as fiery as Carne was stolid. He had enlisted in the regiment under-age during the Second World War, been commissioned into the Parachute Regiment and had won an MC at 20. Pugnacious and uncompromising, he was the perfect adjutant for a man like Carne.

The battle began well for the battalion. Their standing patrol forward on the Imjin was able to throw back the first Chinese attempt to cross soon after dark, alerting the companies in good time for them to stand to properly – and then repelled a further three attempts before they ran out of ammunition and had to withdraw. Not long after this attacks began in earnest on the left- and centre-forward companies (‘A’ and ‘D’) and continued all night, with the right (‘B’) and rear (‘C’) companies coming under attack from Chinese troops outflanking the position to the east. By morning ‘A’ and ‘D’ Companies had suffered severe casualties and were giving ground – critically at ‘Castle Site’
which overlooked the left-forward company. Farrar-Hockley, who had gone forward to ‘A’ Company soon after first light, recounts the desperate business of trying to retake the hill:

Philip Curtis was 24. He had been seconded to the Glosters from the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry, and his action at Castle Site was recognized by the posthumous award of the VC.

But it was not going to be possible to retake the dominating ground. Major Angier spoke by radio to Colonel Carne. ‘I’m afraid we’ve lost Castle Site. I want to know whether I am to stay here indefinitely or not. If I am to stay I must be reinforced as my numbers are getting very low.’

Carne told him in his quiet, measured way that the company must stay put.

Angier acknowledged, and then added ‘Don’t worry about us. We’ll be all right.’ He was killed fifteen minutes later.

There was now only one officer alive and unwounded on ‘A Company’s position.

Fighting continued all day until towards last light Carne, fearing they would be overwhelmed in the dark, decided to pull back the forward companies to form a tighter defensive position on Hill 235.

The remnants of ‘A’ and ‘D’ did manage to withdraw but ‘B’ Company, on the right, could not disengage, fighting off seven separate attacks during the night. Daylight brought respite at last and they were able to get back, but only seventeen of the company remained in action.

A relief force – a Philippine combat team with US support – was hastily despatched by the divisional commander to relieve the Glosters, but their progress was hampered by Chinese who had got into the rear of the brigade position. Throughout the twenty-fourth, therefore, the Glosters, now almost literally back-to-back, Alexandria-like, on Hill 235 – ‘Gloster Hill’ as it remains known even today – fought off wave after wave of Chinese infantry with the support of a single battery of 25-pounders still in range.

In the afternoon Carne received a radio message from brigade
headquarters. Acknowledging it without emotion, he turned to Farrar-Hockley and said, ‘You know that armour-infantry column that’s coming to relieve us?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Well. It isn’t coming.’

‘Right, sir.’
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The attacks continued unabated throughout the night – and always to the unnerving call of bugles and fanatical screams. Farrar-Hockley, who as adjutant was the titular commander of the Corps of Drums, ordered the Glosters’ drum-major to answer each Chinese call with a defiant one of his own. And so everything from ‘Cookhouse’ to ‘Officers Dress for Dinner’ sounded over the darkened hillsides, adding to the growing legend that was the ‘Glorious Glosters’ at Imjin. By morning, however, the game was up. At 9.30 Carne received a message from the brigade commander that he would soon lose his already limited artillery support since the remaining battery within range was having to withdraw, and left it to his discretion whether – in truth, when – to withdraw.