Although nearly 100,000 British troops fought in the three-year war on the Korean peninsula, it is seen by many veterans as „The Forgotten War“. Interviewing and photographing a dozen men who fought in the conflict, I was deeply touched by their heroism, humility and also their willingness to
By Heathcliff O’Malley Telegraph photographer
31 OCTOBER 2018 • 10:19 AM GMT
F our million people died during the three-year war on the Korean Peninsula between 1950 and ’53, and although nearly 100,000 British troops fought in the conflict it is seen by many veterans as ‘The Forgotten War’.
Sandwiched between the Second World War and Vietnam, it was fought in an age before television, and the war-weary British public, barely out of rationing, had little appetite for further conflict. The vast majority of British soldiers who served were
National Service and once their time was up they often came home, were demobbed and went straight back into the workplace with little recognition of their sacrifice.
Over many years I had developed an interest in the Korean War and read both Max Hastings’ books and, more notably, Andrew Salmon’s
To The Last Round. But it was by chance, when shooting a feature on the Dorset coast over a year ago, that I met veteran Harry Hawksworth, who put me in contact with the remnants of the now defunct British Korean Veterans Association.
L/Cpl Mick Griffin in position with his Browning .50 cal machine gun
I have photographed and interviewed a dozen men who fought and served with a variety of regiments during the conflict. I have been deeply touched by not only their heroism and humility but also their willingness to talk about experiences that many had
kept to themselves for decades. What struck me most of all was the importance of feeling amongst all 12 that someone was telling their story; the majority seemed to share the sense that British governments over the years had done very little to remember
the sacrifices of soldiers. In fact, the relatively new Korean Memorial on the Embankment was gifted by the South Koreans and some smaller private donations.
The British military have fought in many conflicts since the Second World War, not counting Iraq and Afghanistan, with ‘small wars’ in Malaya, Yemen, Cyprus and Kenya and peacekeeping missions in Sierra Leone, Bosnia and Kosovo. Perhaps Korea has just
been drowned out.
Included in these dozen portraits are an officer, a medic, some infantrymen, a gunner and a military policeman, all with very different experiences of the war. Nearly half the number were photographed and interviewed at the Royal Hospital Chelsea, where
they receive the very highest quality of care, along with veterans from many other wars. The others I met either in their private residences or residential care homes.
All in their late eighties now, most were either in their teens or early twenties at the time, fighting in a country that, until their orders came through, most had never heard of. Although I personally can never see a time when the human race will be
at peace, I strongly believe the importance of never forgetting the sacrifices made nor the horror we force upon each other in times of conflict, often for little gain. In the case of Korea though, it does appear that some good came of the United Nations’
first foray into conflict resolution, and many would argue that South Korea’s post-war success story is proof of that.
I’ll end in tribute to Bill Speakman VC, who died in June, with one of the last sentences he spoke to me this year, on his thoughts regarding the sacrifices that were made.
“You can find certain places and you’d wonder whether it was worth it. South Korea was worth fighting for – look at them today.”
“Nineteen and stupid, I was scared stiff.” Alan Guy, 85 years old, served in the RAMC 10 field hygiene section from January 1952 until September ’53. He is photographed at his home in Byfleet
“I applied for a posting in Bermuda but that wasn’t to be and was told “You’ll need your ice skates where you’re going! I was on this boat approaching Korea and this big US Marine sergeant, I don’t know whether he took pity on me because I was so young,
looked at me and said ‘You worried lad? You’ll be alright son’. Nineteen and stupid I was scared stiff.
“The first thing I noticed was the smell. Oh god, you could smell it drifting. The problem was in those days – Korea’s now built up and it’s absolutely wonderful, but in those days it was mostly paddy fields and rice production and they used to fertilise
with human manure.”
Alan was promoted to sergeant and joined up with the 10th Field Hygiene section and set up a forward operating base in an advance party close to the frontline.
“That was particularly soul-destroying, you had to do an all night guard every third night, in the middle of nowhere, didn’t know where we were, didn’t know who was around us and bitterly cold and only had a little pop-up tent.
“I remember being on guard one night and seeing a light coming towards me. I said ‘Halt who goes there?’ No answer. ‘Halt who goes there?’ and by then I’m really worried – and then eventually a firefly just came over my shoulder. You can imagine the relief!
“I visited all the Commonwealth units, Australians, Canadians and British; just giving general advice on all aspects of how to prevent frostbite, how to avoid getting malaria, how to treat water supplies and so on. Any aspect of health really. It was
quite amusing, in a way. I remember we ran a little seminar for some of the frontline troops, who were grateful for a little rest, as it were. One of the things we showed them was we found the dirtiest ditch we could find that was full of water and
we filtered it and offered it to them to drink. They then realised that could really be useful if they were stuck somewhere; it could really save their lives.”
Alan joined the Surrey Ambulance Service on his return but was recalled in ’56 for the Suez crisis.
Mick Griffin, photographed at his home in Byfleet, was 19 when his Korean service began
“As we got off the boat we were handed a hundred rounds of .303 ammunition each, and I thought ‘this isn’t too good’. We were relieving the Royal Ulster Rifles and they told us it hadn’t been too bad. And the fella I was talking to said it’s not too bad – but his No 2 on the Bren [light machine gun] had been shot in the head and killed.
“It didn’t scare me. Don’t forget, we were 19 and things didn’t worry you too much. It was only later that we got worried.
“There were 10-20,000 Chinese dug in in front of us on Hill 355 – all the time there were airstrikes coming in. Earlier on in the war an F-84, an American jet, attacked us. It came in machine gunning and then released two napalm bombs, but they landed on the hill behind us. The only casualty was one of the fellas who dived into his bunker and landed onto something he was cooking and got burnt.”
Mick in a mortar position
“I think the Chinese were more frightened of us, more so than of the Americans. At the British positions there were no lights showing. With the Americans there was lots of noise and lights flashing; with us, they never knew how many of us there were.
“Some nights there you’d think something was going on – blimey that was frightening. I could sleep through a mortaring ‘cause I got so used to it. You could see for bloody miles, there was a river going through, but we kept our eyes on the barbed wire and the scrub in front of us and if anything moved we shot at it.”
On returning to England after his tour as a National Servicemen in Korea Mick was disappointed. “We were the first lot of Royal Norfolks to get back on the Empire Fowey. We got the train from Southampton to Norwich and thought we’d get a bit of a reception and all as the first of the Battalion back. But all they sent was a lorry for the kit bags. We had to march to the castle in Norwich. We were pretty hard so it didn’t matter, but there was no beds for us, we had to sleep on tables!”
Mick joined Vickers Armstrong on his return and built aircraft.
“I’ve still an inch and a half of shrapnel in my spine.” Gerry Farmer, photographed at the Royal Hospital Chelsea
“When I was 18 there were seven wars to fight in, including Aden, Cyprus, Kenya, Korea, Malaya. All my friends I was at school with joined the army; a couple got killed in Malaya.
“We trained on the .303. It was a really good rifle but we couldn’t use them in Korea. It was more closer kind of warfare, so we used the Sten gun.
“It was always jamming, but it was all our fault. Some had the magazine on the top but we liked the side ones. We’d hold the magazine and if it moved slightly the next round wouldn’t come out, they jammed.
“We were told we were going to Kingston Jamaica, but instead we went to Brentwood and then waited for a ship to Korea. We went on the Orwell, a German liner. It had big eagles stamped into where the funnels were.”
“When we got to Port Said we weren’t allowed off because King Farouk was being deposed at the very time. The first time I looked out the porthole I saw a camel with a guy wearing a red fez.
“We got to Pusan: I was the second one down the gangplank. It was the whole regiment; on the quayside there was a black American band doing the St Louis blues. It was great.
“My wounds were not so bad; I got wounded. June 12 1953, in the CO’s Jeep. We got mortared on the hook. The Chinese were mortaring all the time. It landed about a yard from the Jeep and blew me out about 40 yards. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel me legs, then all of a sudden a MASH (mobile army surgical hospital) helicopter came down.”
Gerry’s wrecked Jeep
“Korea was an infantry war. The Chinese were just like us; they were young kids just like us and national service. Everything was so close-call, we used to have American stuff, like flak jackets. I’ve still an inch and a half of shrapnel in my spine. They said it was better to leave it or I wouldn’t walk again, as it’s between the knuckles of my spine.
Gerry went out in the Jeep on another mission with four signalers, who were caught smoking in the dark by the Chinese mortars. When Gerry tried to speed off, the Jeep went into the river and all five were trapped under it at the river bottom for some time before finally getting to safety. “I’m claustrophobic now, I’ve not been in a lift since March ’54, I came out a nervous wreck.”
After Gerry left Korea, his friend Cpl Derby was shot and killed mistakenly by a sentry at night, shortly after agreeing to stay and serve another year.
“South Korea was worth fighting for.” Bill Speakman VC, photographed at the Royal Hospital Chelsea
As a Victoria Cross winner, Speakman was one of the better-known soldiers of the Korean conflict and would regularly be seen on Remembrance Sundays at the Cenotaph in his wheelchair, with all the other British Service men and women who pay tribute to the fallen.
On the day that I met him at the Royal Hospital Chelsea he struggled with his memories of Korea and how he won the Victoria Cross. But he had this to say:
“I was a loner as a kid. I never saw my father, my mother brought me up. I think I was always a bit of a loner but I was happy with it. I just decided that the Army was for me. I falsified my age the first time but they tumbled it. But then I got my call-up papers and I’ve never looked back since.”
Private Bill Speakman leaves for Korea, March 1952
“I volunteered for Korea, that was the big turning point in my life. We fought all over Korea wherever we were needed, that was it really. It was a huge frontline, you just didn’t know what was going to happen. It was a very interesting place, and I’m glad I went there, I’m glad I volunteered. I wanted to see fighting and that’s what I got there.
“There were thousands of us and we all did our little bit. It made South Korea what it is today, you know. You thought, you can find certain places and you’d wonder whether it was worth it. South Korea was worth fighting for – look at them today.”
Speakman went on to spend several years in the SAS: “I was in a few hairy spots, but you were left to your own devices, which was a good thing.”
Alfred Mason, Durham Light Infantry, photographed at The Royal Hospital Chelsea
“[On arrival on the front line] we settled down and did virtually nothing as there was nothing going on. Our next position was Hill 159, that’s the height in metres of the tallest mountain in that area.
“After that was 355, which was known as ‘Little Gibraltar’. That was a massive hill. You couldn’t go wandering about because of all the mines that were laid, either theirs or ours.
“Unfortunately we had two young 2nd Lieutenants killed who had only just arrived. They were being briefed by our officer when a mortar landed in the trench. It killed the two 2nd Lieutenants but never harmed the officer.
“Everywhere you went you were on hills because if you could hold the hills no one could get past you. So it was a matter of holding all the best hills in the area. You were normally awake all night on stand-to and in the day you did all your chores. We lost quite a few lads altogether, most on Hill 355.
“In the summer it was hot. It went cold, absolute cold. It was minus 40 – you put on every bit of kit you’ve got.”
“War’s a filthy business.” Colin Thackery photographed at The Royal Hospital Chelsea
“I was part of 45 Field Regiment on the OP (observation post) Party, assistant to the Captain, supporting the Glosters. We went all the way to the border (of China); we were to meet a company commander. They were guarding a load of engineers getting ready to blow a bridge. They said: ‘The Chinese are coming, they’re gonna be here any minute!’ Three days later we were still there, and still no Chinese.
“The officer we met was Capt Farrar-Hockley. We got into quite a number of scrapes actually. I was just a sprog then, literally the youngest. The regiment was full of reservists – all the blokes in the OP Party were all years older than me. They had been right through the war (WWII).
“At one time we took over some Chinese trenches. The Old Man told me to take first stag (sentry duty), so I did. It was getting dark and I was sitting in this thing with my headset on making my reports and responding on the radio. This big Yorkshireman came in, reached over and said ‘cup of tea’ then ‘who’s your friend?’ I looked round and there, sitting next to me, was a dead Chinese man, frozen solid.”
Colin Thackery performing in Korea before returning to his unit supporting the Glosters
“You took your part as an infantryman really when on the OP. I had a revolver, but also a Sten gun. There were occasions when an attack was coming in, you couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. You started to fire back, whether you hit anyone or not. There were thousands of them, shadowy figures wearing these funny, little, quilted shell-suits.
“When I got to Korea we were in battle for a while, then all of a sudden there was going to be peace so we were told to dig in and make ourselves comfortable. The brigadier said to all the officers in the brigade, ‘Get me those young men in the concert party’. My orders were to assemble and go round and entertain.”
In fact, the war wasn’t over at all. Several Chinese armies had managed to creep up to the thinly-stretched UN positions unseen and were preparing for an all-out push to obliterate the line defending Seoul.
