The First Victim Of Chemical Warfare

by Private Keith Hasler, 2nd Battalion, the Royal Australian Regiment, Korea

It has been said that humour derives from the misfortune of others and to some extent this is true. Much of the humour to come out of war is the result of our ability to laugh at ourselves. Let me tell you about one such incident.

It took place sometime in May or June of 1953 during my unit’s involvement in the Samichon Valley on the feature known as “Hill 159”. I was part of D Company 2RAR, and along with others, we had the task of patrolling the valley to our front each and most nights as part of either a stand-by patrol, or a fighter patrol. One of our section members was an Aussie guy named Max Conway, who, like me, was a re-enforcement from Japan new to the terrain and conditions of front-line life.

On a warm, still night we sat near the valley floor as a stand-by patrol as a back-up to a fighter patrol out front. I hoped, as I guess all of my colleagues did, that the night would be uneventful. With the approach of dawn, our only contact with the enemy was to be in the form of hundreds of mosquitoes. These pesky Korean critters were most aggressive and for some of us, clothing was no protection. One such soul was Max, who was subject to numerous stings, even through his exposed shirt not covered by our flak jacket.

As dawn was approaching, we received the command to pull back slowly and silently to the relative safety of our company lines. All the time, Max had been “slapping”, sometimes “squashing”, as he so eloquently put it, “Bloody mozzies!” Following a hastily taken breakfast, Max immediately stripped naked and started to apply some lotion he had obtained from the regimental aid post (RAP). He scratched and swore all day, vowing that this would not happen again.

After the evening meal, we were again briefed for our patrol duties. This time we were a fighter patrol. Max immediately went into “preparation mode” and called out for the DDT (insecticide) which was usually kept close to Company Headquarters. Locating the five gallon drum (from memory), Max stripped off and liberally began plastering his body with DDT, both arms, his legs, whatever he could reach of his back, his torso, all the time muttering, “Those bloody mozzies won’t get me tonight!” Unfortunately, Max had not considered the effect this chemical may have on his tender parts. Sure enough, after just a few seconds of this liberal splashing, Max’s private parts were burning.

Max yelled and yelled, attracting more and more attention. In desperation, he grabbed the pannikin which a few minutes earlier had contained his evening meal and filled it with water. He proceeded to lower his burning private parts in and out of the water. It’s not hard to imagine the laughter his actions caused amongst the many who had been alerted to his cries of pain.

In due course, we went on our patrol but it proved uneventful. Many of us put forward theories as to why. They varied from, “The Chinese heard Max yelling and were too frightened to venture out!” or “The Chinese simply could not stand the thought of inflicting any more pain on poor Max so decided to cancel any patrols for the immediate future!” or “If those Australians can do this to themselves, what might they do to us?” For a long time, Max laughed with his mates over this little episode!