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 Now they had withdrawn far, far beyond our reach, to gather for another blow; to draw fresh multitudes from China’s wealthy manpower account; to fill their forward magazines and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.