Korean Winter

by Griff Hosker

  “And the wounded, sir, can they be evacuated by air?”

  “There will be an attempt before dark to get the most severely wounded away but the walking wounded will have to stay with us, Major Harsker.”

  Haynes was one of the lucky ones. He would lose an eye but he went out with another five men who were placed aboard the three helicopters which made it. A fourth was destroyed by the Chinese.

  We had food and it was most welcome. We were now a smaller unit and that made us much closer. We had been confined inside the steel walls of our American half-tracks and, huddled together, it made us like a family. The Lieutenant and the Sergeant Major sat with me, Corporal Dixon and Sergeant Grant. The Sergeant Major shook his head, “You know, sir, I have never seen such fanatical enemies. Jerry didn’t have these sorts of numbers in the last war. If he had then we would have lost. They don’t seem to care if they live or die.”

  I remembered Blair; he had been a clever man but he had been indoctrinated by the Communist ideas, “They are all taught to believe in the greater good of their country. They see themselves as part of a greater whole.”

  Sergeant Grant said, “We all think about our country too, sir! My Uncle Billy gave his life for England in the last war but we wouldn’t do what those Chinamen did! It was unbelievable.”

  He was right and that worried me. We still had many miles to go to reach safety and I knew that, inevitably, there would be one attack which would breach our defences. “Make sure the lads keep their knives handy. If they manage to get aboard the half-tracks then it will be bloody.”

  Sergeant Major Thorpe tapped his holster, “Like you, sir, I still have the Colt I was issued with during the last war.”

  I saw the others looking at the Colts. Their rifles and machine guns would be of little use in the close confines of the half-track. I thought of the German pistols I had left locked in the cupboard at home. I had not thought I would need them. Now they might make all the difference. Only Lieutenant Morrison had a handgun and his weapon was the service Webley. With just six bullets it was better than nothing but only just. My Colt had the ability to stop a man and eight others!

  I had an early duty and it was quiet. That worried me as it meant the Chinese were preparing something. I went around the men to speak to each one. Many of them were young and worried to the point of terror. Nothing in their training could have prepared them for this. I joined Lance Corporal Williams. “I bet you couldn’t have imagined this six months ago, eh Sam?”

  He shook his head, “No sir, but I think it will make me a better Commando. Lieutenant Morrison wants me to become a demolition expert. He says I have a real skill.”

  “And you do.”

  “The trouble is I am not sure I want to stay in. The Lieutenant is getting out, isn’t he sir? You and the Sergeant Major will be leaving. With you three in charge, well, I feel safe somehow. Even when we were being attacked on all sides, I thought we would survive. The Sergeant Major is like a rock. He is so calm. If you weren’t leading us…”

  “You know, Sam, I joined the Loyal Lancashires as a private. I was on a retreat just like this one. Then the Germans were using Stukas to bomb us and I was sure I would die. I didn’t and I began the journey that brought me here. You are right this will be my last war but, in your case, it is your first war and you have done well. You will become the one like the Sergeant Major. You will be the one that men will feel safe fighting alongside.”

  “You think so, sir?”

  “I know so.”

  I was roused from my bed by the Lieutenant, “Sir, the Brigadier needs to see you. Something is up. I have been told to have the men stand to!”

  I reached the Brigadier before the other senior officers. He shook his head, “Bad news, Major. The attempt to relieve the Glosters has failed. They are on their own.”

  He looked distraught and I knew why. They were his men and they were being abandoned. It was not his fault; the terrain and the overwhelming numbers of our enemies were the reason but he would lose sleep long after the war was over wondering if he could have done anything to save them.

  When the rest of the officers had all entered, he said, “Headquarters have been in touch. Plan Golden A has been put in place. We have to withdraw south.” Major Rickford looked as though he would say something and the Brigadier shook his head, “I have already told Lieutenant Colonel Carne that he is on his own and whatever decision he makes has my support.”

  Major Huth said, “That means either surrender or try to fight his way through God knows how many Chinese!”

  “Major, that is out of our hands now. I have ordered the camp to be roused and we will head south. Your tanks will guard the rear of the column along with Major Harsker and his men. We have Royal Engineers with us and they will lay charges behind Major Harsker’s vehicles. We will, hopefully, deny them the use of this road. The Royal Artillery have already been withdrawn. We will have no more artillery support. If yesterday was anything to go by this will be as hard a journey as any of us have ever undertaken. We do not stop for anyone. We keep going until we reach the nearest United Nations unit.” He looked around us and we saw in his eyes the resignation. He knew that many of us would die. “Gentlemen, rejoin your units. We leave in an hour as soon as the charges have been laid.

  Our men had not been idle. The Bergens, greatcoats and anything else which could be used were packed around the inside of the half-tracks to give some protection. Men were making miniature bunkers in the vehicles. Lance Corporal Williams had found a hard hat from somewhere and he had fastened his Bergen to the side of the steel shell. I threw him my Bergen and greatcoat. “Use those too, eh Williams. You are the most exposed man.”

  He grinned, “Thanks, sir. I feel a fool but who cares so long as I survive!”

  “That is the spirit.”

  The Captain of Engineers knew his business and the road and rocks behind us were mined and set with charges. If the Chinese were careful, they might be able to dismantle them but I expected them to come through as recklessly as they had in every attack up to now. When they returned to their lorries, we waited for the column to move. I stood at the rear with my Thompson. I was not sure how many magazines I had left but I knew it would not be enough. With just four grenades I might be down to my Colt. We set off and made a mile before the first attack. It came at the head of the column. The Centurions opened fire with their big guns. They were firing relatively blindly for it was still dark but because they were using high explosive, shattering rocks could be as deadly as shrapnel. We kept on moving.

  When dawn broke, we passed the men who had been attacked. The survivors jumped on to the Centurions. Three were hauled aboard Red Team’s half-track. It was when we were attacked at the rear that we heard the distant explosions. The Chinese must have attempted to bring vehicles down the road and had paid the price. The Engineers’ demolitions had done the trick. Lofting and his rifle hit every face they saw. Williams’ Browning cleared one side while the Brens and my Thompson cleared the other. The other Browning had been destroyed when Carter had been killed. We had one lucky escape when a grenade was thrown from on high. It must have had a longer fuse than we used for it bounced off the side of the half-track, hit the ground and the explosion rattled off the steel hull of Blue Team’s half-track. Soon the Centurions were covered in the survivors from the attacks.

  Ashcroft said, in a brief lull, “One of the tank commanders has just said that they have to stop firing their Besa for fear of it seizing up and the others have had to changed barrels.” There was desperation in Ashcroft’s voice. Alone out of all of us he could hear the battle ahead and knew that we were losing.

  I could see a pattern emerging. There would be frenetic attacks which would hurt us and they would withdraw only to return a short while later to attack somewhere else. We were forty yards behind Red Team and they were a hundred yards behind the tanks. The tanks were completely covered by the survivors they had picked up. I knew what was coming and yet I
could do nothing about it. The Chinese would attack the tanks which would not be able to fire their machine guns at the Chinese for fear of hitting our own men. There must have been a thousand Chinese soldiers who rose from the side, where British bodies lay, and hurled themselves from the slopes above. It was almost suicidal and yet it worked. They landed on the British and Belgian soldiers who were clinging to the tanks and a bloody battle ensued. It could only have one outcome, a Chinese victory. The tanks would not be harmed but the men who had survived the early attacks would all die.

  The Lieutenant could not help himself. He had Grant accelerate to go to their aid and therein lay his downfall. The Chinese could not hurt the tanks but their grenades could hurt the men in the half-track. Even as we fired at the Chinese who threw their grenades, I knew we could not stop all of them, and one exploded inside the half-track. We now had no choice and Lieutenant Morrison had forced my hand.

  “Sergeant Major get us close! Pike get inside the half-track and see if any are alive. The rest of you I want every gun to hit a Chinese soldier!”

  I fired my gun and reloaded until the barrel burned my hand. I drew my Colt and fired bullet after bullet into the lemming like Chinese. Campbell’s grenade launcher was in the Red Team’s half-track and, if that had been in our half-track, it might have saved us. As we neared the wrecked vehicle, I saw that there were only Chinese left on the Centurions. The tanks were now the focus of the Chinese attack. We drew next to the half-track.

  “Sarn’t Major, give Pike a hand. Williams, clear the tanks.”

  We were just a hundred yards from the tanks and he could not miss yet no matter how many men he killed more swarmed on board. I kept clearing the hillsides. Suddenly, the tanks all turned their guns to face each other and I wondered what they were doing. When their Besa machine guns began to hose down their fellow tanks I realised. The bullets would not harm the tanks but they turned the Chinese soldiers into mincemeat. It was effective and it ended the attack.

  The survivors of Red Team were hauled on board. There were three of them. Sergeant Grant was just slightly wounded but Lance Corporal Lake and Lieutenant Morrison were more seriously hurt. Everyone else was dead. Sergeant Major Thorpe handed me a handful of dog tags.

  I said, grimly, “Get us underway again. Sergeant Grant, are you fit to fight?”

  “Too bloody right sir! Let me at the bastards!”

  We had a spare Bren and I handed it to him. “Everybody, the priority is to hit men with grenades. Sergeant Major put your foot down!”

  “Sir!”

  The tanks had moved off and we were a good four hundred yards behind them. I hated leaving the bodies but I had to. The Chinese withdrew. It was not a surprise. Between them, the tanks must have slaughtered more than four hundred men. I dropped next to Lieutenant Morrison. He had a stomach wound. I saw Pike shake his head.

  “See to Lake.”

  “Sir!”

  I took one of Morrison’s cigarettes and lighting it for him, placed it between his lips. Sergeant Grant looked down, “Sir, the Lieutenant tried to throw himself on the grenade. It was the bravest thing I ever saw.”

  I shook my head, “Jake, what did I say about keeping your head down?”

  He smiled and a tendril of blood came from the corner of his mouth. “I saw Jimmy Cagney do it in a film once, sir. I’ll get it right next time.”

  I nodded.

  “Did we lose many?”

  “You saved three of you, Jake, and that will have to be enough.”

  Although Pike had put a dressing on the wound it merely slowed the blood and more blood spurted from his mouth when he coughed. “Sir, in my battledress pocket is a letter for my family, will you…?”

  “Of course.” I took it from his pocket. It had spatters of blood on it and there was a hole where some shrapnel had gone through. In the movies, this was where the hero would tell his wounded man that he would live and the man would smile. This was real life and we both knew that young Jake would never get to Israel. He was going to die.

  He took a drag on the cigarette, “I learned much from you, sir, and it has been an honour. I hoped that when I got…” That was all that he said. His head lolled to one side and the half-smoked cigarette fell on to his battle dress. It was such a tragic mistake. If he had held back then he would not have been attacked. The Fusiliers, Rifles and Belgians would still have died but Red Team would still be alive. I took his tags and put them with the others.

  “How is Lake?”

  “Stable sir. He was wearing his Bergen and his back was facing the grenade. It saved him.”

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, Ashcroft?”

  “The advanced elements have reached the UN lines. We are just a mile shy.”

  I shouted, “Don’t take anything for granted. Keep a good watch. This last mile could be the worst.”

  As if to echo that Sergeant Major Thorpe said, “Aye sir, and when we reach our lines we will be driving on fumes. A bullet must have hit the tank.”

  “Here they come again, sir!”

  Lance Corporal Williams’ voice made us all look up. Ahead of us, the Chinese were attacking the Centurions. They were using hand grenades and what looked like a bazooka. The tanks had some open space and they drove at the Chinese. Once again some had hurled themselves at the tanks and clung on. I watched as one tank drove deliberately through the wall of a house to dislodge one such man. The sudden charge took the Chinese by surprise and one of the bazooka teams was squashed beneath the tank’s tracks as it twisted and turned. The tanks were now less than a mile from safety and artillery shells began to rain down on the valley side. When a flight of Sabres roared in to drop bombs on the high ground it looked as though we might make it. Then, with less than three-quarters of a mile to go the last Chinese bazooka sent a rocket at us. It hit the engine block and the whole vehicle rose and fell.

  “Everybody out and on me!” I grabbed my Bergen and jumped out of the back. I ran to the cab. We had the half-track between us and the main body of the enemy. The Sabres had cleared the hill to the west. I had time to evaluate the situation. Sergeant Grant was dead but Sergeant Major Thorpe was alive. He was unconscious but he was breathing. Pike and Williams carried Lake from the half-track.

  Lofting and Hall, along with the rest of my men, appeared at my side, “What now, sir?”

  “This is not the place for a sniper, John, sling your rifle and hoist the Sarn’t Major over your shoulder. Hall, take the Sergeant Major’s Tommy gun. We will flank Lofting.” I raised my voice, “Blue Team it is a long time since we had a decent run. Let us see how fast we can make the finish line!”

  “Aye, sir!”

  “You ready, Lofting?”

  “Aye, sir!”

  “Let’s go!” I threw a grenade into the back of the half-track. The steel shell would confine the blast and I did not want the enemy to have the use of the Browning.

  As we burst from the cover of the half-track, I saw six Chinese to our right. I sprayed them with a short burst. Only three of my men were not firing and they had the two injured men. It was hardly a sprint for the Sergeant Major was a big man but my men behaved magnificently. They did not panic but chose their targets. Behind me, I heard my grenade go off and smoke poured from the half-track. When I ran out of bullets, I took one of my four grenades and hurled it high and to the right. It exploded behind us and I quickly reloaded my Thompson and then emptied the magazine into a wall of Chinese who rose from before us. There had to be at least a hundred of them and even with Hall and I firing seven hundred rounds per minute, they were getting through. We had to get through them if we were to reach safety and that would be an impossible task. One ran at me with a bayonet. I swung the Thompson like a club. It hit the rifle and bayonet up into the air. As I smashed it across the Chinese soldier’s head the gun broke in two and I drew my Colt. Two Chinese were charging with bayonets at Lofting and Thorpe. I shot them both and then emptied the magazine at the others. We were still two hundr
ed yards from safety but it might as well have been two hundred miles.

  Then I heard the sound of wild Irish yells and saw Captain Robinson and Sergeant McIlroy leading a company of the Rifles to charge into the back of the Chinese. It proved too much for them and they broke. With the Rifles protecting our backs I led the survivors through the tanks to the cheers of the rest of the Brigade. We had made it and our war was over. For me, it was bigger than that. War would finally be over for me.

  We laid Sergeant Major Thorpe on the ground. As the Rifles’ medic dropped next to him, he opened Sergeant Major’s right eye. He examined Ken’s head and then nodded, he said, “Looks like a concussion, sir. I will put him in the recovery position and then get some stretchers.” He smiled, “Thanks for watching our backs, sir! We owe you and your lads.”

  I looked back and saw the smoke rising from the half-track and, beyond it the wreck of Red Team. We had done our job but at what a cost.

  I heard a groan and Sergeant Major Thorpe rolled onto his back, “I am getting too old for this game, sir.” He patted his breast pocket and said, “And the buggers have broken my favourite pipe!”

  I laughed and shook my head, “Luckily I have a spare and, Sergeant Major Thorpe, it is yours!

  Epilogue

  There was a continuous convoy taking the wounded to the coast and we were sent with them. We did not have to wait for a ship to take us home. Our actions had merited a flight to Japan. When we were airlifted to Japan, I used some of my father’s old contacts to get us a ride on a military flight heading to the Middle East. A telegram home ensured that there would be a company aircraft waiting to take us to our airfield back in England. I did not feel guilty for it was the least I could do for my men. I had with me just fourteen men left from my command. Lake was the most seriously injured but we managed to persuade the doctor in Japan to allow him to come with us. We had more than twenty-four hours in aeroplanes and that gave us the opportunity to talk and reflect on the battle of Imjin River. We had learned, while in Japan, of the heroism of the Glosters who had bought the Brigade the time to escape. They had paid a huge price. Only two hundred and seventeen men escaped from the regiment and Brigadier Brodie had told me of some of the recommendations that had been made.