THE
EDGE OF THE
SWORD
THE
EDGE OF THE
SWORD
THE CLASSIC ACCOUNT OF WARFARE
& CAPTIVITY IN KOREA
GENERAL SIR
ANTHONY FARRAR-HOCKLEY
First published in United Kingdom in 1954 by Fredrick Muller Ltd
Re-published in 1993 by Alan Sutton Publishing Ltd
Published in this format in 2007 by
PEN & SWORD MILITARY
an imprint of
Pen & Sword Books Ltd
47 Church Street
Barnsley
South Yorkshire
S70 2AS
Copyright © Anthony Farrar-Hockley, 1954, 1993
Copyright © Estate of Sir Anthony Farrar-Hockley, 2007
ISBN 978 1 84415 692 4
The right of Anthony Farrar-Hockley to be identified as Author
of this work has been asserted by them in accordance
with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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available from the British Library
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Cover illustrations and plates 1, 2, 6, 11, 12, 13, 14 reproduced
by kind permission of the Regiments of Gloucestershire Museum;
plates 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10 reproduced by kind permission of
The Gloucestershire Regiment (Captain r.s. Mardell Collection);
plate 17 reproduced by kind permission of Major H J Pike, MBE
For his leadership and courage during the batde, the author was
awarded his first DSO. The citation read as follows:
‘Throughout this desperate engagement, on which the ability of
the battalion to hold its position entirely depended, Captain
Farrar-Hockley was an inspiration to the defenders. His
outstanding gallantry, fighting spirit and great powers of
leadership heartened his men and welded them into an indomitable
team. His conduct could not have been surpassed.’
This book is dedicated by him to his comrades, the Officers and
Men of 29th Independent Infantry Brigade Group.
AUTHOR’S BIOGRAPHY
General Sir Anthony Farrar-Hockley, GBE, KCB, DSO and Bar, MC, M Litt (Oxon) was born on 8 April 1924 and educated at Exeter School. When the Second World War broke out, he ran away and enlisted under age into the Gloucestershire Regiment; he was found out and sent back to school. In 1942, he was commissioned (aged 18) from the rank of sergeant into the newly-formed Parachute Regiment, and saw active service in North Africa, Italy, France and Greece, where he won his MC in the bitter fighting to destroy the Communist inspired guerillas.
In 1948, he rejoined the Glosters and, following the Communist invasion of South Korea in 1950, he returned to the theatre of war as adjutant when 1st Battalion was despatched as part of the British 29th Infantry Brigade.
On release from captivity, at the end of the Korean War in 1953, he briefly attended Staff College prior to serving in Palestine, Cyprus and Aden; he then went to the Far East as Chief of Staff to the Director of Operations in Borneo during the campaign of 1965. Three years later, he took up a Defence Fellowship at Oxford University, before being posted to Northern Ireland as Commander Land Forces. He took over 4th Armoured Division in 1971. He was promoted to Lieutenant General in 1977 and knighted in the same year. His final appointment was as NATO’s Commander-in-Chief Allied Forces in Northern Europe, from which he retired in 1983 after 40 years’ service.
During the latter stages of his distinguished military career, he was also Colonel Commandant of The Prince of Wales’ Division and The Parachute Regiment, Colonel of The Gloucestershire Regiment, Aide de Camp (General) to the Queen, and the official Cabinet Office historian concerning Britain’s part in the Korean War.
Having already published The Edge of the Sword in 1954, he wrote numerous military histories in his retirement including an account of the Battle of the Somme and a biography of Sir Hubert Gough. A frequent contributor to many newspapers and journals, he was also a regular broadcaster on television and radio. He died on 11 March 2006, aged 81.
AUTHOR’S PREFACE TO 1993 EDITION
More than fifty years have passed since the British 29th Brigade fought a three day battle on the Imjin River. It was one of two actions which ensured the integrity of the United Nations’ line against the Chinese and North Korean spring offensive in the second half of April 1951. It persuaded the Communist Commander-in-Chief, P’eng Tehuai, beyond doubt that his forces could not take South Korea by force of arms. Hence, armistice talks followed his repulse.
The Edge of the Sword tells the story of 1st Battalion, the Gloucestershire Regiment, one of the units in the British 29th Brigade, with its supporting Royal Artillery heavy mortars in C Troop, 170 Battery. This group of men was isolated on the Brigade’s left flank and, by an error of the American Divisional Commander’s judgement, it was destroyed as an effective fighting force. In spite of mounting losses, the many hundreds of men involved – regular soldiers, recalled reservists, and National Servicemen – fought until ordered by higher authority to attempt withdrawal.
The greater number were captured. When those who survived a harsh imprisonment of two and a half years came home, they were surprised to find themselves described as heroes. They did not think of themselves in that character but, rather, felt some satisfaction in having done their best for their regiment and comrades in a demanding battle.
This book, by one of their number, relates how they did that.
Anthony Farrar-Hockley
General,
formerly, Captain and Adjutant,
1st Battalion, the Gloucestershire Regiment
CONTENTS
FOREWORD
PART ONE
THE BATTLE OF THE IMJIN RIVER
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE—22nd April, 1951
CHAPTER TWO—23 April, 1951
CHAPTER THREE—24th April, 1951
CHAPTER FOUR—25 th April, 1951
PART TWO
UNEASY LEISURE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FOREWORD
by
MAJOR-GENERAL T. BRODIE, CB, CBE, DSO
THIS book is the story of The Glosters in the Imjin Battle in Korea.
&nb
sp; It is also the story of how officers and men of the Glosters, Ulster Rifles, 5th Fusiliers, 8th Hussars, Gunners, Sappers, Doctors and Padres fought, not only in the battle, but again in captivity under appalling conditions and with inhuman captors.
Captain Farrar-Hockley, then Adjutant of The Glosters, who himself was outstanding in the battle and afterwards, has written the most graphic account of a battle and of escapes from captivity I have ever read.
This is a book which ought to be read by every soldier and prospective soldier.
Here he may learn what is meant by real discipline and inspiring leadership, of the part played by Regimental traditions and the Regimental spirit in proper units, and to what heights men can rise because of them.
He, and the civilian too, may see why the British have still got something that the rest of the world envies.
I am indeed honoured to be asked to write a foreword to this book. I am prouder to have known so well all the officers and men mentioned in it.
Headquarters
1st Infantry Division
MELF. 27
PART ONE
THE BATTLE OF THE IMJIN RIVER
To
My comrades,
the Officers and Men
of the 29th Independent
Infantry Brigade Group
PROLOGUE
THERE had been no movement along the entire Battalion front for days, but for an occasional old, white-robed Korean peasant, too rooted to his land to be transplanted by war.
No movement along the northern bank of the winding Imjin River, now lazy, slow, and somnolent in the dry April.
No movement upon the red Sindae feature where Terry and Alan had sought and found the enemy standing patrols, since vanished; nor yet across the Gloster Crossing among the hills, where we had searched so diligently with the tanks of the Eighth Hussars —a fruitless, two-day search across twelve miles of No-Man’s Land, looking for an enemy with whom to do battle.
No movement.
And yet, of course, they had not gone. The push north across the Han River had but temporarily defeated them; for they were so many and we so few. Now they had withdrawn far, far beyond our reach, to gather for another blow; to draw fresh multitudes from China’s wealthy manpower account; to fill their forward magazines and armouries; to fan their forces’ fury for the fight with yet another tale of lies.
And so we waited; and as we waited, so we watched.
Forward on Castle Hill, commanding the long spurs that rose almost from the southern bank of the river, holding in part the hard dirt road that ran through the cutting along their right flank, was A Company, Pat’s boys, so like the rest in that they were a mixture of both seasoned and green men; in that they knew themselves to be, assuredly, the best men in the whole Battalion. Yet different, in that they were stamped by Pat’s own character, and marked by their own past record in battle and at rest.
Across the road, laying claim to some of the houses of Choksong, whose dwellings straddled it, was D Company, guarding the eastern flank of the road that led from the river: the road which crossed Gloster Crossing to wind north among the hills through countless villages and hamlets to the broken streets of Sibyon-ni. Spread forward along a feature just higher than Castle Hill, D Company patrolled forward with A Company nightly and watched by day the hills and valleys across the river bank. From this high hill, Lakri would descend to meet Pat on the neutral ground of the road before repairing to a hut in either’s territory for a cup of tea and, when this needed justification, a co-ordinating conference.
At the top of the pass, the road curved west before descending again to divide in the broad valley behind Pat’s defences. One fork continued to the south, entering the hills once more between high cliffs on whose western crest Spike’s Pioneers secured Hill 235. And to the east, from where the gorge began, C and B Companies were disposed with their backs to the jagged crest of Kamak-San that towered above all other features within sight.
Sam’s flock—Support Company—was ever a scattered one; no less around this Choksong defensive position than elsewhere. For Spike’s platoon were infantry; the anti-tank platoon were jacks-of-all-trades; Theo’s machine-gunners were scattered about the hills where their sturdy, reliable water-cooled Vickers might pour their fire to best advantage into an attacking force. Only Graham’s mortars were concentrated; the square pits dug in between the road and the stream that ran behind C Company to turn ninety degrees by the ford, from where it ran across the valley north to Choksong. And on either side of the ford lay Battalion Headquarters.
Here stood the weathered old Command Vehicle, Haskell’s pride, so like the Grand Old Duke of York; around it the signals vehicles and Guy’s gunner GMC. Here was the Regimental Aid Post, where Bob dispensed medicine on all days and sherry on Sundays; where Mills provided massage for the weary. Here were the Snipers, resting perhaps from a long day immobile in a forward “hide”, as they searched the hills with their telescopes or binoculars. Here were the Provost positions, their Bren gun covering the road up to Choksong. Here were Corporal Watkins, Stockley, and the cook-house helpers ready to make the next meal on their improvised ranges. Here was a tent, some said luxuriously appointed within, marked “RSM”, from which might now emerge the robust figure of the Physical Training Instructor—aptly named Strong—who shared it with the owner. Forward, the Drums were dug in on either side of the road. Here, by the ford, was a sign that said “56-MAIN”. This was the centre around which the 1st Battalion, The Gloucestershire Regiment, lived and fought in the area of Choksong.
But this was not all. Forward here, with the fighting element of the Battalion, was Frank’s heavy mortar troop. That “independent” mortar troop! Surely, even the egregious Support Company could hardly surpass that seasoned, well-knit body of old sweats: yet not so old that they could not nip nimbly enough to the long 4.2 inch mortars that they fired so ably.
And forward, too, Guy’s gunner Observation Post parties: young Bruce with A Company; Ronnie with D Company; and imminently joining Denis’s Company Headquarters, Recce.
Four miles behind this line, Rear Headquarters harboured the administrative vehicles, turned back the unwanted from the rear, welcomed those weary ones who needed relief from the eternal night watches. Behind them were John, and Colour-Serjeant Fletcher, forever promising to bring socks up to the Regimental Sergeant-Major. And back in Uijong-bu were Freddie and ‘B’ Echelon, indenting, submitting, requesting, inviting, demanding, stealing the many things we needed daily.
Somewhere between—and a little to the east—were disposed the 25-pounder pieces of the 45th Field Regiment, including our own 70th Field Battery—Guy’s Battery. Like the eyes that watched ceaselessly from A and D, B and C, in their Observation Posts, in their night Listening Posts along the river, on the peaks of the hills and in the valleys; like the ears that listened beneath the wireless and telephone head-sets along the signal nets; like the hands that waited by the mortars and machine-guns, by the surgical instruments and the dressings, the gunners were waiting.
All of us were waiting.
We waited until the 22nd of April, 1951. On that day the battle began.
CHAPTER ONE
22nd April, 1951
SHAW drove me back from Brigade Headquarters where I had been to see Boris. It was a fine mild afternoon as the jeep drove north along the road which wound among the hills. As we passed Rear Battalion Headquarters, I saw the Assistant Adjutant, Donald, and we waved to one another. I would have liked to stop but I had been away for almost three hours and it was high time I was back.
The earth and the wind smelt of April; the hillsides, as yet bearing the winter skeletons of shrub and dwarf oak, were plainly alive with new life. We reached the top of the ascent below Kamak-San, and Shaw put her into top gear as we ran on down the light slope through the gorges that led to our destination. I lit a pipe and we chatted until, rounding the last long corner, we came to the ford and the little temporary village of vehicles and ho
les in the ground which we called “home”.
Shaw went off to do some maintenance and I walked over to the Command Vehicle. Richard, the Signal Officer, met me on the steps:
I said: “Where’s Henry?”
“He’s gone off with the Colonel.”
“Where?”
“They’re all down at the river. There’s some sort of flap on. I thought you’d heard,” said Richard.
Well, I hadn’t heard, but I got the scout car and made off down the road towards Choksong. On the way, Yates, the driver, told me that, only an hour or two since, OPs had spotted enemy movement making south towards Gloster Crossing. It was no great push as yet: only very small parties, and very few of these—probably reconnaissance patrols. But how very odd that, after concealing their hand for so long, they should alert us by sending down daylight patrols that couldn’t keep themselves concealed. Was it a deliberate blunder, only a deception; or was it the real thing done by parties of rather badly trained soldiers? I thought all this over as we passed through Choksong and bumped on northwards towards the little cutting through the last low hill that barred our way to Gloster Crossing.
At the cutting, we stopped. Yates concealed the scout car in one of the many open dugouts and I made my way forward on foot. The road ran round a small bend and there, quite suddenly, one was out in the open, in full view of any enemy across the river.
Between the cutting and the river, it was flat rice paddy; flat to the edge of the river which had worn down the soil through the centuries until, now, the bed was twenty, thirty—in some places forty feet—below the top of its banks. On the very edge of the south bank lay a ruined village: a tumbled, charred wreck of a village, whose dwellings, however humble by Western standards, had nonetheless been home to their poor occupants before war had drawn two armies back and forth across the land. Among the crazy roofs, the tottering walls that remained, the 1st ROK Division had dug a network of open trenches during the defence of the river at Christmas time, 1950.
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