MEMORIES OF KOREA 1951 – 1952

Contributed by Keith Howard
E-mail Address(es):
khoward@aei.ca

The 1st Battalion Welch Regiment was comprised largely of conscripted young soldiers in compulsory National Service who were initially inducted at the beginning of 1951 into one of the three Welsh regiments – Royal Welch Fusiliers, South Wales Borderers and Welch Regiment - at the Military Training Centre in Brecon. Following the few months of basic training, they were all assigned to the Welch Regiment and transferred to Colchester to prepare for combat in Korea.

The commissioned officers and NCOs were mostly career soldiers with at least a few years of service but not necessarily prior combat experience.

From their base in Sobraon Barracks, Colchester, they were deployed for periods of time to other areas for intensive combat training – principally in Norfolk around the Thetford and Swaffham districts where there was an extensive military-only restricted zone for this purpose. There were other areas such as Salisbury Plain which also provided similar exercise facilities for them. After about six months of preparation, the battalion was a fit and finely-tuned combat-ready outfit preparing to break camp and make the trip to Southampton for shipping out to Korea in October on the troopship Empire Fowey.

For the majority of us, it was the first time we had ventured beyond the shores of our native land and even, in some cases, our own county boundaries. For a whole month we would be out on the briny and seeing countries we had previously only read about and never dreamed of ever visiting. It was to be a grand adventure and the real life experiences that were ahead of us were not even contemplated – many of us were still teenaged and it never entered our minds then that the time we would spend in Korea would probably have a far more significant life-influencing impact upon us than any previous or subsequent event.

The voyage was quite a pleasant change to the routine we had followed in Britain where the winter was settling in and we were soon obliged to change to tropical uniform.

Port Said was the first sweltering spot where we dropped anchor but we stayed aboard while supplies were loaded and were besieged by the "bum boats" with their merchants of leather wallets and by the numerous divers for the coins which we were badgered to drop into the water below.

Then came an unforgettable silent moonlit glide through the Suez Canal and the Bitter Lakes when, while I was on guard duty on an upper deck, a white liner with all lights on silently glided by in the opposite direction.

I read the name on the prow and it was "Empress Of France".

I have since found that this ship was built in 1928 by John Brown & Co. of Glasgow as the "Duchess Of Bedford", was renamed in 1948 and sold for scrap in 1960.

However, in October of 1951 she was a magnificent vessel and one I will always remember.

The next port of call was Aden and we were allowed to go ashore there for a while and shop around. I remember it was very hot and dusty with narrow packed-earth streets and the pervasive smell of the many goats which roamed freely there. Three of us had bought a bunch of bananas and were eating them when a couple of urchins came around to gawk at us and scrounge whatever they could. One of the kids began to pull at my wrist watch which had an expandable strap and didn’t want to let go of it so one one my buddies threw a wad of banana peels at his head which got rid of him rather quickly. There was a local policeman standing nearby who had witnessed the event and did nothing to clear the kids away but neither did he say anything when the peels were tossed.

Our next port of call was Colombo in Ceylon where we went ashore for a formal march with a band playing at our head. The ship-to-shore vehicles were flat metal-decked floating platforms that radiated heat like skillets. I had never experienced such searing heat and we had to march in it yet! Afterwards we had some leisure time there too and it was yet another culture shock but totally mesmerizing with its open-front ‘stores’ and hand-crafted wares with all prices subject to friendly and lively haggling. After we left Colombo, while gazing over the rail of the main deck at the ocean waters, I saw a pair of large sea snakes swimming alongside on the surface of the sea. When I told my buddies about this later, they accused me of being sozzled or hallucinating. However it was true and I have since validated the existence of such creatures which were marked with vivid black and yellow stripes around the body – they are also poisonous.

The next exotic spot on the programme was Singapore which we approached through the Malacca Strait late in the day as the setting sun cast a multi-coloured blaze through the clouds such as I had never seen in my life – it was amazing. Singapore was as different from Colombo as Colombo was from Aden. It was huge and busy and it was a bit of a shock to see open sewage ditches between the street and the shops in some places. I imagine these scenes have since disappeared – at least, I would hope so.

Then came Hong Kong and that was an occasion for another march. This time we were led by the pipes and drums of a Scottish regiment (probably the King’s Own Scottish Borderers). That was invigorating – there is nothing to compare with such stirring music – and we had several hours of shore leave there afterwards. We took the ferry across to Kowloon and back and some of the boys got tattoos there and some got made-while-you-wait hand-tailored sharkskin shirts. It was a beautiful place and the merchandise was astonishing. There was an abundance of jade on display in those days but I’ve since been told by friends who have lived there that such is no longer the case.

After leaving Hong Kong, we ran into rough seas that were literally breathtaking in ferocity and which caused numerous cases of violent seasickness. I was fortunate in being relatively unaffected with the complaint and went up to a high level deck and observed the awesome display of nature in its naked mind-boggling fury. The air was a constant cloud of green spume and the depths of the valleys between the monstrous waves were the height of our ship. From time to time another ship could be seen some distance away which alternated between being visible and invisible with the constant boiling of the ocean waters. Even its mast would disappear from sight when it went into a trough.

Finally we arrived in Pusan and debarked to be taken to the train which would carry us up-country to the front. What a tiresome journey that was – the majority of us had nowhere to sit and we stood for the whole trip – it was little better than a cattle train. Anyway, after the great ocean voyage, I guess it brought us back to earth both practically as well as figuratively and we had plenty of time on board to wonder what kind of activities lay ahead for us. From the train we could see the kind of terrain that would be our next home and some of the people who inhabited it. Their clothing was different from what we were accustomed to and many old men wore hats that resembled inverted black plant pots with large brims and they appeared to have been made of some kind of mesh. They observed us with the same degree of curiosity and, after all, we were on their turf – not the other way around!

The women wore dresses that billowed out from just below the armpits and made them look chubby or pregnant. These were just first impressions and it would not be long before we would find the Koreans to be smart and decent folk and basically no different than the rest of us.

After the train ride, we were put onto trucks and convoyed to our new digs on the front line. Now the real thing would begin for us all and my active service experience would be as a squaddie in "D" Company’s 11^th Platoon.

By this time, our original complement of Welsh lads from the ‘Brecon days’ had an infusion of English, Scottish and Irish reinforcements who had originally been with other units – Gloucesters, H.L.I., K.O.S.B., Inniskillings, etc. - and were now proudly wearing the Welch badge. There couldn’t have been a better combination and our differences actually enhanced the bonds we forged. Our morale could not have been better.

We had also been equipped with clothing that was then state-of-the-art design and made for survival under arctic conditions - lightweight material with excellent heat retention properties and waterproofing. They were comfortable and, importantly, all worked well. I still have my ‘housewife’ – the sewing/darning kit – though it’s seen better days and has had some repairs done to it.

We received daily boxes of C-rations (U.S. issue) which contained various small cans of food (e.g hamburger patties in gravy, lima beans, etc.) that could be heated up over the solid fuel cake of wood alcohol/with stand included in each box with dessert in cans (usually fruits in syrup) and a small efficient can opener. Each box also contained a pack of cigarettes (Lucky Strike, Camels, etc.) which were frequently passed along to our Korean helpers for doing the dhobi and similar favours. We also received cans of 50 English cigarettes and, during the winter months, a daily tot of rum. The Koreans attached to us were mostly young lads who were great helpers in moving gear up the steep mountainsides and were invariably cheerful and, it seemed, all named "Kim".

Once installed in our designated positions at the front, we staked out our individual spots to put down our sleeping bags and kit bags etc. and ensured our safety by checking the soundness of our quarters and making any required modifications and/or reinforcement. It didn’t take much time to get accustomed to the layout and the daily routines of ‘stand to’ at first and last light and the continuous guard roster.

A related remembrance is of a time when there was a heavy fog one morning that didn’t show any sign of lifting after the usual term of full strength stand-to would have ended. The officer-in-charge decided we should continue with 50% stand-to while the fog persisted and each section was split into two groups for the purpose. Then the question was asked of him as to how long each group should man the positions – to which he replied "Group ‘A’ will stand on guard for the first half of the fog and Group ‘B’ will stand on guard for the second half".

Even if for no other reason than I don’t remember his name, he should remain unidentified.

As I recall, the first live ammo shots that were fired from our positions was when a deer trotted into sight and a couple of riflemen thought that venison would make a rather desirable complement to whatever dish was on that day’s menu. After a shot or two which only resulted in swift changes of direction by the startled animal, one hit the mark and the deer was retrieved and hung for cleaning and preparation for cooking. Fortunately one of our group had been a butcher’s apprentice when a civilian and he made a commendable job of skinning, cleaning and carving of this unexpected prize. We never saw another deer at any time after that.

The first time we went on patrol, it felt rather odd to smear our exposed skin surfaces with muck (and, in the later hot weather, to thoroughly douse with mosquito repellent) before quietly filing out of our lines. Thereafter, it was just routine.

There is no intention to write about the battle activities here but to describe some particular events that may bring a reminder of a pleasant or an unpleasant occurrence to some reader who has shared them.

The beginning of our service was not much fun because we were pre-occupied with getting climatized – both practically and figuratively – and the weather was bloody awful compared to what we had been used to back home. Some poor souls lost their lives when their bunkers collapsed in on them from too much load on the roof or from poor construction and they couldn’t be rescued. Our first combat fatality was Corporal Bob Oram who was killed a week before Christmas by an enemy mortar shell. I remember him well and he was one of our original company and was a physical training instructor back in Brecon. He was a man full of life and good humour. He was also a good friend and it still angers me 50 years later to remember that day.

Other recollections :

There was a monster piece of artillery behind our lines (I believe it was called ‘Long John’) that was capable of firing shells over enormous distances. This impressive weapon fired at enemy lines and we heard its shells whisting over and sometimes could see a small cloud of debris from the strikes far away in the distance. It then took quite some time until the sound reached us as a light thump.

There was "artificial moonlight" created by a huge spotlight that was beamed out horizontally and gave some illumination to the ground below. This was useful for night patrol activities or for deterring incursions by the enemy forces.

Being the recipients of Christmas greetings air-dropped from enemy planes in December. They were actually propaganda forms aimed at discouraging us from continuing with our part in the war by trying to persuade us that the whole exercise was only for the purpose of American profiteering.

The ‘letters’ copied onto them, purportedly from some soldiers to their families back home, were so obviously phony as to be pathetic. Nevertheless, they were harmless and it was rather nice of them to have acknowledged our religious affiliations.

On St. David’s Day (March 1^st, 1952) we observed regimental custom by having leeks flown in from Japan and the youngest member of each section had to eat one whole with a bottle of good Japanese beer (Asahi brand) to help with the swallowing. We also had an excellent meal served up by the Company cook – a Scotsman named ‘Jock’ McKay.

As the food and beer was consumed and spirits rose, the natural thing was that singing should ensue. After a couple of songs, someone urged Jock McKay to sing something.

Well, Jock was not a shy man and, with a surprisingly fine tenor voice, he fairly mesmerized us all with a beautiful rendition of "My Ain Folk". There was a brief silence when he finished while everyone recovered from the spell he had cast and then the applause burst out.

Jock’s status was instantly elevated from just ‘a damn fine cook’ to ‘Honorary Welshman’.

When we moved on to Little Gibraltar, the Welsh Flag with its Red Dragon was mounted on the summit and this generated the story that it made the Chinese very uneasy because the Oriental people have great reverence for dragons in their own cultures. It was said that they also believed that the Welshmen would dig tunnels underneath the Chinese lines to surface behind them and so have them surrounded. I suspect that such rumours were the creation of some imaginative Welshmen rather than any feedback from the other side.

When the winter was over, we were treated to our first bath with hot water. That was quite an occasion with an area at the base of the hill arranged with 50-gallon drums cut in half lengthwise to serve as bathtubs. We went in small groups there and stripped off to get a good scrubbing and clean clothing – socks were removed in pieces because they had been on our feet all winter long and had pretty well disintegrated. The Koreans who were setting things up and pouring the hot water couldn’t contain themselves when they beheld the hilarious sight of all these naked fellows with weather-beaten faces, necks and hands attached to bodies as white as cotton. For us, it was just marvelous to cast off all the never-to-touch-a-human-again clothing and have a good soaping and change to fresh duds even if we did look like skinned rabbits.

Another sign of spring arriving was the sudden emergence of snakes – many of them quite huge. They all seemed to appear at the same time from undergrowth and moved sluggishly into the open to bask in the sun and slither around. I saw quite a few of them crossing over the trenches and they were apparently of the boa-constrictor type and as much as twelve feet or more in length. After a few days they seemed to have disappeared again.

Still on Little Gibraltar, we got a visit from the latest in tanks – the Centurion – which stayed for a few days and shelled the enemy positions effectively – some times with tracers. It was also a great morale booster to see this pride of the British Cavalry – most impressive.

There were frequent air strikes conducted by the U.S Air Force with the F-104 Starfighters on enemy positions across the valley from us. Once, on their return flight to home base, one of them spattered a short burst of 60mm shells from the wing guns onto our position. Fortunately there was no damage done but quite a load of profanity was hurled back at their deaf ears.

I remember seeing the Chinese officer who surrendered and was sorry for the poor chap. He was small and looked quite frightened as he squatted on the ground and our lads took pity on the fellow and offered him cigarettes and food while he awaited instructions from his escort.

There was an occasion when the Aussies mounted an assault in full daylight on a neighboring enemy hill and were led by a bagpiper. We could see and hear him piping away all the way to the top of the hill and his comrades were swarming in with bayonets fixed and weapons blazing. I don’t know what level of success they achieved but that sight of these gutsy troops is not one I’ll forget. What a stirring and inspirational display of courage and pride that was.There are no half-measures with the Aussies for sure – great guys.

On another occasion, we were under a night-time attack from a bombardment of mortar shelling and machine-gunfire. It was quite a blistering display of ill temper and it kept our heads down while their troops tried to make advances on our positions. They overran a forward listening post where Private Horton was positioned with his bren gun and he was killed there. I was also a bren gunner and my partner and I were in our dugout with all our reserve magazines and ammo at our feet while the mortar shells were crashing with the frequency of hailstones and throwing tree wreckage and earth around over our heads. I was hoping that if we took a hit it should be a direct one into the hole so that we’d never know what had hit us.

Because we spent most of our time on Little Gibraltar, most of my memories are from that time.

That’s where we first experienced earthquakes and they were a mystery at first until it was recognized just what these strange vibrations were.

It’s also where, at one time, it rained incessantly for at least 7 days and nights and it got to feel as if it would never end.

Another excellent friend and comrade - Private Arthur Rowe - was killed there in July and Corporal Mike Keogh was wounded in August. If he should read this, I’d like to know if one of his favourite tunes back then was "Blue Tango" because I have the notion that it was the one he most frequently requested during our time on the Empire Fowey.

At one time, a group of us were taken to a rear echelon for a film show. There was also a group of French-Canadians there from the Royal 22^nd Regiment (Van Doos). While waiting for the show to get set up, some of our lads began to sing quietly "All Through The Night" in Welsh. Soon we were all joining in and, as might be expected, the sound was glorious and the Canadians were spellbound – so were we! It was a great moment.

In the summer of 1952, we were given a spell of R&R in Tokyo in relays of small groups and my turn came in August. We were shuttled off to Soeul and from there we were transported by U.S. military plane to Tachikawa airfield near Tokyo. That in itself was a new experience for us because we were not yet in the era of civilian air travel as a common mode of transportation. The aircraft was not a regular passenger plane but a cargo transporter with benches along the walls and an absence of frills inside. Nevertheless, to a bunch of squaddies on their way to Japan for a holiday it might as well have been a magic carpet.

From Tachikawa, we were driven to the district of Ebisu in Tokyo where the camp compound was located and it was beyond our dreams for contrast with what we had left behind us. We had dormitories with single beds with mattresses and clean sheets changed every day by shy and charming Japanese girls who giggled a lot and there were showers with hot water downstairs where we headed each morning to luxuriate in the hot spray with good soap and big clean towels. Then we were given a fresh complete set of clothing from the skin outwards. Upstairs again, was the Kookaburra Club where there were dartboards and such and a barroom which sold beer at low prices by the trayload of glasses. In short, it was an infantryman’s Heaven!

From what I was later told, this complex had previously been a Military Training College for Japanese Naval Submariners.

Four of us – Bill Williams, Bill Smith, "Griff" Griffiths and Keith Howard teamed up for the whole stay there and took in many of the sights in downtown Tokyo and in the Ebisu neighborhood.

There was a railway station in Ebisu where we could catch the train to the city centre and that’s what we did. Then we were outside the military environment and mingling with the civilian population and it was a revelation. The people were very polite and didn’t look at us any differently than at each other and the only indication that we were seen as strangers would be when greeted as guests by civilians who asked if we were enjoying their city and expressed their good wishes to us. When we got to downtown Tokyo, we just went walking and absorbing the atmosphere of this large clean city with swarms of people and bustling traffic, wide streets and good sidewalks, theatres with neon signs blinking their messages and the general clamor of vibrant activity.

We strolled along the famous Ginza and found an open-air market with dozens of vendors’ booths selling all manner of goods – especially cameras (which is what I was looking for) and I bought one there at a very good price. I also bought a watch there which lasted me many years and gave good reliable service. The main stores along the street were elegant and very expensive with jewelry, watches, chinaware, crystal items, perfumes, clothing, etc. from the most exclusive houses in Europe and elsewhere.

On one of our downtown excursions, we went to a theatre for a live variety show and it was mostly music and dancing and acrobatics so a knowledge of the Japanese language was not essential to enable us to enjoy the show. I believe there were some striptease acts too.

Also, we strolled around absorbing the general atmosphere of the area and, as memory serves, there was always a smell of perfume (often from the many pinball arcades that lined the streets) and constant noise from these arcades, street traffic and jostling crowds. There were many small sidewalk booths or street vendors peddling exotic (to us) foods for eating as you walk along – similar to the fish-and-chips habit in Britain in those days.

One evening, we went to a night club and that was a pleasant experience – it was quite a sophisticated atmosphere with comfortable seating and roomy tables and charming service with a very good floor show. It was a surprise to find that the singers mostly sang English language popular numbers and did so very well too.

Of course, the clientele was largely U.S. and allied troops so that had an obvious influence on the choice of presentations.

Along a small lane outside the gates of our billets at the Ebisu camp was a small drinking hole called the Stand Bar where we went frequently for a quiet drink and chat. It was run by a trio of ladies and it contained just a small bar from behind which the ladies served beer, etc. and which had three or four barstools. Other than that, I believe there was a table in a corner with a few chairs around it.

It was just a pleasant little oasis where we could sip and chat and not have to worry about finding our way back home afterwards.

Before we could take root in Ebisu, it was time to saddle up and get back to Korea and business again. Our departure from there was not without another memorable incident though. We piled into designated buses parked alongside the sidewalk ready to take us back to Tachikawa airfield and the bus parked directly in front of ours was being occupied by a load of Aussies.

After a short while, that bus began to rock back and forth sideways and there was quite a lot of noise coming from inside that indicated a ‘punch-up’ was in progress. As the volume of noise from the skirmish increased, so did the degree and frequency of the rocking motion and the whole scene suddenly erupted as most of the windows on the curb side burst asunder and a number of the brawling occupants spilled through the new opening onto the pavement below without relinquishing the grips they had on each other as the pummeling continued unhindered.

Soon a contingent of MPs arrived on the scene and restored order and carried off the casualties and then the show got on the road and we were en route to Tachikawa.

As observed earlier, there’s never a dull moment when the Aussies are around. I say that with some degree of affection because I admire them and I also have Australian cousins.

There is not much that I remember from that time until we were saddling up to leave for home other than that we always seemed to be digging new trenches and moving into fresh positions.

A few months later, we were off to Pusan again to board the Devonshire and get back to dear old Blighty. The only feature about that voyage that was significant enough to have left a picture in my memory bank was the presence of Bill Speakman V.C. on board.. He was a large fellow of six and a half feet tall who was very quiet and solitary and I don’t think he missed a single day without having a request for "Bali Ha’i" to be played over the Tannoy system all the time we were en route home.

I also remember that we headed for Liverpool rather than Southampton and, as on the last leg of the outbound voyage, we ran into a storm on the inbound trip. We couldn’t get into dock at Liverpool due to high seas and were forced to hang around in the Irish Sea for a day or so until weather conditions eased sufficiently to allow the pilot boat to get out of port to bring us in. From Liverpool we boarded a regular passenger train to take us to Cardiff and home.

When I look back on the whole Korea episode, I know that it had a significant impact on my character and a profound influence in shaping my views of my fellow humans. The exposure to all the different people that we encountered and with whom we had to interface during that year illustrated beyond dispute that, but for the superficial trappings of skin colour and language, we are all the same.

We fought a war in which many fine men of all nationalities were killed or maimed and in which no-one hated anyone. We were soldiers performing tasks that we were trained for and it was much the same as playing a fierce game of rugby against another side with all the energy and skill you have to win and, when it was over, you could go and have a beer or two together with the other team and compliment them for putting up such a good fight.

In fact, such reunions between former enemies sometimes do take place - tragically however, many of the best players have lost their lives on the field of conflict and left families and friends to grieve.

For my part, I returned home with self-confidence, a completely new awareness of the basic decency of my fellow man and comfortable with my ability to make decisions about my future and establish a place for myself in this world. I expect the same is true for all of us who survived the experience and I certainly hope such is indeed the case.

We were a good team, men – it was a privilege to have served with you. God bless you all.

Keith Howard

ADDENDUM: SOME OTHER MEMORIES

First encounter with Korean civilians.

It was winter time and we were being transported in trucks along a hillside road (it may have been en route to our first position in the front) when we were stopped and ordered to de-bus due to an obstruction ahead. This was caused by serious damage to the road by erosion of its edge seemingly created by a heavy caterpillar-tracked vehicle – probably a tank - which was hanging over the downhill slope and unable to reclaim its purchase to remount by virtue of the chewing action of its track into the soft edge while skewing around to get onto the direction of its intended course. All further attempts had been halted to allow an earth removing vehicle to create a fresh expansion of the road into the hillside and to then help the tank to clamber onto the widened road.

We were told this would take a couple of hours and so some of us wandered around to examine our surroundings and found there was a small cluster of buildings close by. We went to check them out and to find some shelter from the cold while the road was being fixed. There were no lights nor sound coming from any of them and so we opened the door of the largest one and were shocked to find quite a sizeable group of people in there all lying fully dressed side-by-side on the ground close together and with blankets over themselves. They had obviously settled in for the night and were as shocked as we were at the encounter. They didn’t say anything but we excused ourselves for the intrusion and left them to get back to sleep. The thing I remember quite well was that there was no fire in there but the room was quite warm from their combined body heat and I guess good insulation of the building was sufficient to retain it and give them a good night’s sleep when they were not interrupted by intruders.

We then found another unoccupied building and sheltered there and had a smoke or two until the road was repaired and was clear for us to resume our journey.

First encounter with American troops.

Our platoon was making a long march with full packs and weapons and it was quite warm at the time. We had been slogging along for quite a long period of time and were showing the signs of our fatigue when we were obliged to pull to the side of the road enough to allow a motorized convoy travelling in the same direction to get by.

As the trucks passed us with their cargoes of troops in the open backs, one of them called out to us with a wide grin on his face "Hey, you guys must be the infantry – huh?" It really was funny and gave us a bit of a lift at the time and was just the right perk for a bunch of squaddies who must have looked rather sweaty and bedraggled at that stage.

The patrol we made to get close to the enemy line and observe their activities and strength.

If my memory serves me well, this was led by Lieut. Evans or our platoon sergeant and we were about a dozen strong and made our way across the valley until we got close to their lines. However, with our eyesight attuned to the darkness, we observed one of their patrols coming towards us and, before they came too close, we were ordered to drop off the pathway and lie in the ditch alongside. It was apparent to our leader that, from a sudden change in the speed and tone of their vocal exchanges, they had spotted us and were preparing to make things rather uncomfortable. He then said to get ready to move rapidly back onto the pathway and beat a swift retreat as soon as he gave the signal by tossing a phosphorus grenade their way to throw them into disarray.

However, as he threw the grenade, his forearm struck the barrel of the Sten gun which he had slung on his shoulder and the grenade fell somewhat shorter than hoped for and, as it burst, illuminated us as much as the enemy group. We were up and on the pathway scooting back down the trail like rabbits and, by the light from the grenade, were able to see the wire marker alongside the path that indicated we had been lying beside the perimeter of a minefield. Nevertheless, we all made it back to our lines without injuries or absentees.

The day we received a heavy artillery barrage from across the valley.

This happened when we were all having our mid-day meal on the side of the hill away from enemy lines. Our cooking area was in that location and our lads had just come out of their bunkers to heat up their food and to exchange the usual banter when suddenly there was a thunderous pounding on the other side of our hill creating vibrations that came through to the side where we were hunkered down. The enemy guns hammered away for the best part of an hour but fortunately all our lads were gathered together on the safe side and everyone stayed put until we had finished our meals and the din had been absent for a reasonable time. Then we ventured back cautiously to re-occupy our bunkers and could see the extent of the damage wrought. It was not significant but the force of the shells made quite an impression on us - especially where they had struck at shallow angles and ploughed long deep furrows across the surface – and left no doubt that we were very fortunate to have all been on the other side of the hill during that bombardment.

The attempt to take prisoners.

This was an exercise following a plan based on observations of a route taken regularly by the enemy to replenish supplies at night via a particular trench. The objective was to ambush this event by having a couple of strong chaps armed with pick helves select one or more of the unarmed troops who were carriers, club them and haul them off rolled up in army blankets. We would provide ample firepower support to engage the enemy’s armed escorts while this snatch took place and then covering fire to ensure the safe transport of the victims back to our lines. On the chosen night, about a dozen or more strong, we set out across the valley floor and got within striking distance of our target with our team all poised and ready to move in once the signal would be given.

Suddenly, the sky lit up with flares as if it were Guy Fawkes’ Night and all Hell broke out as machine gun fire crackled across the scene. Apparently the enemy had spotted our approach and dispersal and put the spotlight on at the appropriate moment to screw things up. Anyway, we gave as good as we got and put up a barrage of our own which ensured that we all got back home safe and sound and a bit more respectful of the enemy’s intelligence.

The aborted reconnaissance patrol.

This was another night patrol when I was in the point position i.e. several yards out in front of the main body of the rest of the single file group. There was a full moon that night with variable cloud so sometimes it felt a bit uncomfortable to be so visible when the moon shone through. Fortunately, it was mostly hidden by the cloud cover and we came to a rough road carved into the side of a hill and cautiously advanced along it until a couple of us saw the dim silhouettes of a group of enemy troops coming towards us along this route. We stopped and reported this to our commanding officer who could not see them because by the time he came forward, these troops had moved off the trail to the sides above and below. However, he believed our report and gave the order for an orderly withdrawal to avoid being caught in an ambush. As the others made their way back, a couple of us opened fire to ensure that the enemy would be too busy keeping themselves safe to be a threat to our patrol. I had my bren-gun slung across my shoulders so that I was able to spray my bullets to both sides of the trail quite easily and ensure that no return fire came our way. When the others had got themselves a distance back and set up in good positions, they signaled for us to fall back to join them and, still firing, we pulled back at a half trot. While doing so - scurrying backwards - I put my foot into a hole previously created by a mortar shell or such and went down with a crash.. This alarmed my buddies who thought I’d been shot but my only damage was a blackened finger which had been between my gun and a stone when I hit the ground..

The day I got a permanent memento.

This was in the summer of ’52 when I went down the hill to meet the NAAFI supplies which included a case of beer which I had ordered. For quite a number of months, we had been accustomed, during the daylight hours, to the occasional enemy shells being lobbed at us whenever they thought they could do some damage. It was around mid-day when I was bare-chested and standing next to my beer case when a shell landed a good distance away from us and suddenly, with a short hissing noise, a chunk of jagged shrapnel came down and whacked me in the chest below the collarbone on the meaty area and blood spurted out. The Korean lad who was standing alongside me gasped and jumped back and I saw an ugly chunk of metal falling to the ground. It was about 4 inches long and ½ inch square though very irregular with razor-sharp jagged edges. It had struck me end-on and then flattened out to make a large imprint before falling and I retrieved it and wrapped it for a souvenir. A field dressing was applied to the wound and after a while it healed just fine.

I realised how lucky I was not to have been standing an inch or so further forward which might well have cost me an eye or a severely damaged face because the trajectory of that vicious shard of metal was straight downwards from a great height.

After a few weeks, I tossed the shrapnel away.

Now, after 50-odd years, all that remains is a small round scar similar to that of a chicken pox mark.

One odd mealtime.

Our platoon had stopped to eat during one of our migrations to some new area and we were in a location where there were some shattered trees and fallen leaves. We had opened our C-ration boxes and had the wood alcohol burners heating our meals of choice – I believe I was heating hamburger patties – when I spotted something that looked like a turnip about 20 feet away among the leaves.

I strolled over and turned it with my boot and saw it was a human skull and realized I had become combat-conditioned when I just went back to my can of hamburgers and got on with my meal.

A different summer encounter.

Once, in the full heat of summer, we were crossing a paddy area and saw several black shapes like logs on the ground some twenty or thirty yards away and were speculating as to what they might be. It was resolved when a couple of the lads picked up some stones and lobbed them accurately at the objects. The result was that the black mass disintegrated into thousands of flies rising to the air and exposing the putrefying corpses of enemy soldiers which gave off a stench that was indescribably foul until the flies reassembled to mask it again.

Lesson learned – "Let sleeping logs lie".

A Korean Barber.

A rather amusing spectacle was the sight of a Korean chap sitting on a chair behind the lines and getting a haircut from one of his friends. We thought at first that they were having a joke on us because the barber was cutting the hair with what looked like an English hedge clipper. That is the kind of scissors that consists of two long wooden handles with a long flat blade at the end of each of them. This, we were told, was the traditional Korean tool for the task and, as we witnessed, it did a splendid job. As time went by, this became a more common sight and we then knew it really was the general practice. 

Korean Dwellings.

From time to time, our patrolling activities would bring us to small farms or settlements which had been abandoned by their owners due to the dangers attached to the hostilities. Many of the dwellings and connected buildings were in fine shape and damage-free with many or all of the furnishings still in place. Some of these were rather finely made wooden dressers, cabinets, cupboards, tables, etc. and often with elaborate patterned insets of contrasting wood or brass strips. The buildings were also in good condition without any visible damage and it seemed such a shame that the owners were not still there to enjoy what they must have worked so hard to achieve. There were frequently what had once been well-tended flower beds and gardens with large earthenware lidded jars that contained various grains standing outside the entrances.

We were always respectful of these properties and left them as we found them. Let’s hope that the original owners were able to return to find them in the same good condition. 

Korean Troops.

During an early stage of our setting up shop, we had a visit from some members of the R.O.K. (Republic of Korea) army whose positions we inheriting. Those who we saw appeared to be keen to fight and we were given to understand from an interpreter that they had practiced a ploy of approaching enemy positions as as if surrendering with hands high in the air to gain close proximity to their goal. When the enemy troops would reveal themselves to collect these would-be prisoners, they would find themselves the recipients of grenades which had been held in those upstretched hands. This was taken with a grain of salt by us and the overall impression we had was that they were ‘b-s-ing’ and I don’t recall seeing any of them again nor of having any further news of their activities. I trust that they were successful in all their encounters with the enemy and returned safely to their families when the hostilities were over. I also realize that they were there to fight for their country whereas we were likely viewed as foreign helpers who didn’t have the same degree of emotional attachment as they did.

However, as British soldiers, we had tremendous pride and loyalty to our regiments and the unwavering commitment to maintain or enhance our reputations – a fact of which I’m sure they soon became aware

  Keith's Photos     Welch Roll of Honour    To Middlesex Branch BKVA