In Korea on the night of May 13th, 1953 I was second-in-charge of a patrol from the 3rd Battalion, the Royal Australian Regiment (3RAR), which was ordered to patrol the feature below Hill 355, code named “Cloncurry”. The small hill was roughly half way between the forward positions of 3RAR and the Chinese, so it was a constant source of dispute. As we made our way towards Cloncurry, we were alerted to the fact that the Chinese had beaten us to it, so we were to attack them.

The report told us that 15 Chinese had been seen, and as we numbered 16 it seemed a reasonable operation.

In fact, the Chinese force numbered far more than 15. Private John Kennedy had got a good look at the enemy force in the late afternoon.

“We had seen the Chinese on the skyline above us – between 30 and 50 soldiers silhouetted like a camel train”, he said. “We pounded them with ‘piss and pick-handles’ before we went up to Cloncurry and we thought we’d knocked the living daylights out of them”.

We thought, this will be a piece of cake. It was anything but.

Standard procedure followed and we split into two sections of seven men. My group took the left wing and my mate “Bluey” Clark took his men to the right. The commander and his signaller were in the centre and to the rear.

We began to run up the slope in extended line. My Bren-gunner, Tom Foot, called to me.

“There’s two Nogs in a hole here, what will I do?”

Just about the same time, a group of Chinese who were in a hole right in front of where I was heading, began to shoot and grenade at me. I yelled out to my friend, “Shoot the bastards!” From that moment on, it was quite obvious that someone had made a serious miscalculation about the number of enemy we were attacking. The Bren-gunner had two and there were five doing their best to finish me.

Serious fighting was going on all about, and the diggers were serving it right up to our opponents. I had managed to shoot one in the face before the first grenade got me. I threw myself into a nest of large rocks, and each time they saw me move I received more grenades. Fortunately, you have a bit of time to move if and when a grenade lands near you – it takes a moment before it explodes and that can be time enough to roll out of the way. It was a bugger of a situation to be in, and for some reason my Bren man was not there to help me. They threw eight grenades at me until I received a head wound and lost interest.

There appears to have been an order to “get out” and the men were doing that. I was quite helpless and totally at the mercy of my four opponents. At that point John Kennedy appeared on the skyline behind the Chinese and dropped a grenade into the hole with them. They had nowhere to go in the time available, so our very effective grenade destroyed them. Kennedy ran across to where I was lying and asked if I could get out. Foolishly I said “Yes” so he took off in search of others. Fighting was still going on, but not many of our weapons were firing. At that point I discovered I could not stand up. There were no troops alive on either side or around me, so I had the task of crawling down the hillside, dragging my Owen gun with me.

Eventually I reached the bottom and came across a group of our men with the commander. I was helped to my feet and began to feel a little less groggy. The party was reasonably intact, both in number and health, but it was being taken out under orders.

Duff, Lance Corporal Fred Roberts and Privates Len Murdock and Fred Prior had been wounded and four other men were missing: John Kennedy, Tom Foot, Corporal John Nicholson and Private John McKandry, a New Zealander.

The sound of at least one Owen firing was still coming from the hill. I realised we were leaving someone behind and protested, as did my fellow NCO “Bluey”. We both said that we had to go back, and the men were ready to come with us. There was a patrol from A Company on ambush duties not far from us, and they were 16 strong as I recall. We had apparently been informed by radio that a group of Chinese was between us and our route home. This had little bearing on the fact that we were four short, and some were alive and still fighting up the hill we had just left.

Bluey and I went to lead the men back when I was smartly ordered to stop. I was still fairly shook up by my head wound and was not capable of launching into an argument. At that point we heard the final burst from an Owen. Then two Chinese grenades exploded, followed by the most heart wrenching silence I have ever experienced. Our mate was fighting alone and we had left him to die.

A very half-hearted count took place and it became clear that we had left four good men to their fate. No matter, we were still getting out but by a different route. I was ordered to lead the way with, as it turned out, some 17 grenade pieces in me. We soon passed through the A company patrol and headed off I knew not where. But lead I did, as ordered. The time eventually arrived when I was unable to go any further without aid and I believe was carried back by stretcher.

I can vaguely recall that we changed course at times to avoid Chinese patrols that were prowling the valleys. My next memory was sitting on the floor of a bunker with a field dressing around my head. The next day I woke in the Indian field hospital and learnt that I was the only Australian there. They fed me the hottest curry I had ever eaten in my life.

When I returned to my platoon three weeks later, I learnt more of the fate that had befallen our good men – those we had abandoned. The man who saved my life, John Kennedy, had also come across my Bren gunner, Tom Foot. He was wounded to the extent that he could not walk; so this brave soldier stayed with him probably hoping to be rescued. I believe that he remained with him for quite a length of time, until the enemy troops came looking to see what we had left behind. That soldier was still alive at this point, some hours after our withdrawal. The other two, who had continued fighting, we have no idea about.

At the time there was talk that we were facing a Mongolian unit. I cannot vouch for this, but I can state that we recovered no bodies from any such incidents, and none of our men who may have been captured returned from POW camps. We fought this unit on a number of occasions, and took our fair share of casualties, as did the enemy. But this is the only time any of our capable fighting force knowingly left its men to fight and die alone.

The final casualty count for us was: three missing in action, myself wounded in action, and I think five wounded in action – remained on duty. In plain English, this meant they had some minor scratches.

Until my time comes to depart this life, I will always hear that lonely Owen firing in the night. Then I can hear the two grenades explode and worst of all I will hear that terrible silence.