This incident took place during the last few days of the battle for “The Hook” in Korea 1953 – that notorious feature on the western extremity of the Commonwealth division lines and adjacent to the 1st Marine Division.

My mate Peter Crowe and I were put into an observation pit at the very top of The Hook. Our responsibility was to ensure that we maintained good vision towards the northern approaches. The main thrust of the Chinese was expected from the west. At least this is how I recall it. Pete and I took turns at the slit of the observation pit, keen to do the right thing, but ever fearful of the need to defend our position.

We managed to light a cigarette quite frequently by pulling a blanket over our heads to shield any reflective light. If one of us was already smoking, it was a simple matter to light one with the other and keep low and out of any sight of any potential enemy. Sometime during the night, someone even brought us a mug of coffee.

I think it was around 3.00am when Peter was reporting all quiet by phone to company headquarters. I sensed movement next to me. Then someone with an Asian accent asked me for a cigarette. I replied “Go to hell!” thinking it was one of the Koreans attached to the Commonwealth units who we called “katcoms”. The katcoms were employed under their own unit’s jurisdiction and pay conditions and were frequently asking us for cigarettes.

Even though on this occasion, they were not permitted to be so close to the action because they could easily be mistaken for enemy, in the heat of the moment I assumed they were being used to resupply forward positions or take coffee round. I eventually handed over a cigarette saying, “Keep down and get a light from Peter’s smoke!” Off he went, and I quietly said to Peter, “Bloody katcoms, don’t they know to stay away from forward areas?” Peter agreed. We decided we would bring it up in the morning.

Following the night’s activities (or inactivities), I casually mentioned to a non-commissioned officer (NCO) from company headquarters that the “katcom” had been up in the observation pit during the night, bumming cigarettes. His reply stunned me. “There can’t have been any katcoms near you last night as they had all been moved to a rear position pending any attack.” Peter and I just looked at one another. We often spoke about the incident between ourselves. Had we unwittingly had a smoke with a Chinese soldier? Had he been lost and stumbled into our nearby trenches? Was it an attempt at an intelligence finding mission?

We didn’t pursue the matter further and rarely mentioned it to others. Neither of us was willing to admit to fraternisation, stupidity or naivety. Even to this day, I ask myself, “Who the hell was it?”