Marshall Peng, the Chinese military leader, was now regrouping for what was known as his fourth offensive, which meant there was a lull in activities.
The Glosters would soon taste their first action of the war and it would be a day Jackie and Johnny would never forget. The 29th Brigade was ordered to take a range of hills occupied by the Chinese. At 05:00, they were assembled at the base of a hill that had been given the number 375, Jackie seemed to recall. The number indicated the height of the hill, in metres, on the maps.
They were addressed by the commander of their company, Major Deacon. They were told there had been sightings of Chinese on the hill, and Jackie’s company had been assigned to take the hill.
The major told them that at 05:15 there would be a bombardment of the hill by the US tank regiment, and at 05:30 the company would make the assault. As he was still speaking, the rumble of tanks could be heard approaching and right on cue, at 05:15, the bombardment began, not only from the tanks but from the Royal Artillery’s forty-five pounders and their own mortars, from the mortar group attached to The Glosters; at 05:30 precisely, the bombardment stopped. The three tanks turned around and disappeared down the track from where they had come.
Jackie looked up at the hill that was their objective. Smoke from the bombardment could be seen, drifting and mixing with the early morning mist. Its slopes were steep and covered with loose rocks and stones. Apart from the occasional fir tree, there was almost no cover.
The platoon was led by Taffy Howells, who was extremely popular, a second world war veteran and a very competent leader.
After the commander had finished his address, their company commander, Lieutenant Peter Hall, ordered, “Fix bayonets!” followed by, “Right gentlemen, let us begin,” and the climb up hill 375 began.
The ascent was made in silence. All that could be heard was the crunch of heavy boots on the frozen ground and the tumbling of rocks and stones that had been loosened by the soldier’s boots. Those following the front line frequently had to take evasive action as the falling rocks made their way to the bottom of the hill.
After forty minutes, when they were almost three-quarters of the way up the hill, Jackie’s platoon came under fire. The platoon immediately hit the deck and returned fire, Jackie with his Lee Enfield and Johnny, who was alongside Jackie, with his Bren.
They were taking fire from a trench about ten yards ahead of Jackie. Fortunately, there was only rifle and not machine gun fire. Taffy Howells was in a group to the left of Jackie.
“How’s that throwing arm, Jackie boy?” he asked.
Jackie had excelled with the grenade when they did their basic training and had a very ‘good arm’, so the instructor had informed. No doubt from his boxing days.
Jackie looked at his sergeant and smiled.
“No problem, sergeant,” Jackie replied as he took a grenade from his webbing, pulled the pin, paused and lobbed the grenade into the Chinese trench.
The platoon was immediately on its feet, finished off the survivors in the trench with bayonet and rifle butts and accounted for seven Chinese soldiers. One young Chinese soldier was firing blindly with his Russian rifle. His face had been hit by shrapnel and was a mass of blood and bone. Jackie finished him off with his bayonet. The first time he had taken a human life – but it certainly would not be the last.
Then the platoon continued their advance to the summit without further incident, where they found more trenches and bunkers that had been quickly vacated by the Chinese, with their breakfast still frying in the pan – a foul-smelling fish, Jackie remembered.
The bunkers were of particular interest to Lieutenant Hall. They were certainly well built, with entries that you had to crawl through.
They saw the rest of the Chinese fleeing down the other side of the hill. Some of the platoon followed and picked a few off, but soon they disappeared into the landscape that they were so familiar with.
“I reckon you must have played a bit of cricket in your time, private Gee!” Taffy Howells said as they secured the trenches on the summit.
“Cricket? No, not me, Sergeant. I didn’t go to a private school!” Jackie replied.
The task was completed successfully, and Taffy Howells gave the order to ‘dig in’. Jackie then realised Johnny Gillard was not at the summit with them.
“Where’s Johnny?” Jackie asked.
“Terry, where’s Johnny?” Jackie repeated.
“I, I don’t know, Jackie… I thought he was with us!” Terry stammered and looked totally bewildered and lost.
“Fucking hell, Terry. What are you playing at?” Jackie shouted at the young soldier.
“Johnny! Johnny!” he called several times, but there was no reply.
“I’m going to find him, sergeant,” he said to Taffy Howells and without waiting for permission from his superior, he turned and retraced his tracks back down the hill.
“Private Gee…” Taffy Howells shouted, but Jackie was already over the summit and scrambling down the hill.
“Where had he last seen Johnny?” He was sure he was alongside him when they came under fire from the trench and he was sure Johnny had returned fire with the Bren gun.
He found his friend in the very spot where they had hit the ground when they came under fire.
Johnny was sitting upright but his eyes were closed.
“Johnny!” Jackie shouted.
Johnny’s eyes opened when he heard his friend’s voice.
“Jackie! I knew you’d come back for me,” Johnny whispered. Jackie noticed his skin had gone very pale.
“Thank God, you’re alive,” Jackie whispered.
“I guess that’s the end of my rugby career, Jackie,” Johnny whispered looking down at the hole in his right leg.
Johnny had been hit in the initial burst from the Chinese. The bullet had gone straight through his thigh and there was a lot of blood.
“Medic!” Jackie shouted several times, but his shouting was in vain, there were no medics nearby.
Jackie removed his own belt and made a tourniquet to stem the flow of blood. There was still a lot of firing all around him. He needed to get Johnny off the hill. He quickly weighed up the situation: down was longer and probably more dangerous, but if he took his friend to the summit, there was no medical aid there. Down it must be.
He slung his rifle over his left shoulder and then heaved Johnny over his right shoulder. There was a loud groan from Johnny.
“Sorry, my friend, but this is going to hurt you more than it will hurt me,” Jackie said as he turned and began the run to the bottom of the hill and aid for Johnny.
The firing continued all around him as his heart pounded, his lungs burned and Johnny groaned in pain.
“Hang on, Johnny! Hang on! We’re nearly there!” Jackie wheezed as he gulped mouthfuls of air.
Once he tripped and fell to the ground and Johnny screamed in agony and passed out.
They managed to get off the hill without further incident and as Jackie approached the headquarters, two soldiers rushed to help him.
“Well done, soldier. We’ll take care of him now,” one of the soldiers said to Jackie. They took Johnny from him, put him on a stretcher and quickly took him to the medics, as Jackie slumped to the ground, his lungs on fire as he gasped for breath.
A little later, after he had recovered and taken some water, Jackie made his way to the medical station where he found Johnny being cared for by the medical staff and awaiting evacuation to the MASH centre.
They had stemmed the flow of blood and given Johnny some morphine and he was sleeping like a baby. Jackie asked one of the medics attending Johnny if they could save his leg.
The initial diagnosis was good, the medic said. The wound was clean, and he was sure it would not need amputation.
The war was over for Johnny Gillard, as was his rugby career most likely, but at least he wouldn’t lose his leg.
After being evacuated to the nearest Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, Johnny was taken to Japan, where he made a full recovery. He never returned to the war nor was he able to play rugby again, but he was able to help his father on the family farm in the Forest of Dean.
Jackie made his way back up the hill to re-join his company. On the way up the hill, he picked up the Bren gun that Johnny had left at the trench. When he reached the summit, he reported to Taffy Howells and told him about Johnny’s wound.
Taffy sighed, “Good lad, young Johnny! Now it would appear you are our new Bren gunner, private Gee!” Taffy added, seeing the Bren slung over Jackie’s shoulder.
“I’d rather not, Sergeant. I’d rather use the rifle if you don’t mind.” He then glanced at young Terry Dolan, who still had that look of incomprehension and blankness.
“Very well, Gee.” Taffy Howells agreed with a sigh and shouted, “Private Kelly.”
“Yes, Sergeant.” A tall, muscular young man appeared at the double from one of the trenches they were in the process of enlarging.
“I know you have been itching to get your hands on this Bren gun, haven’t you? Well, now is your chance. You are officially the platoon’s new Bren gunner,” Taffy informed the young soldier.
“Yes, Sir!” Kelly’s face lit up as Jackie handed him the Bren.
“Now go and set this thing up on the north side – Oh, and keep an eye on young Dolan,” Taffy added in a lower tone.
“Dolan! Kelly’s your new Bren gunner – Take more care of him than you did with Johnny Gillard,” Taffy Howells added cuttingly.
“Yes, Sergeant, I will,” Dolan replied sheepishly.
“C’mon Dolan, get your arse into gear. We’ve got work to do!” the jovial Kelly said as he dragged Dolan away.