The Battle | Battle of Imjin River Memorial

On Sunday, April 22, 1951, the Anglo-Belgian 29th Infantry Brigade (29 Bde) was deployed south of the strategic Imjin River, directly north of Seoul. The war winter of 1950/51 was over. Spring had come. Skies were clear, colour was returning to the landscape. Fighting was in a lull. The enemy had withdrawn. The brigade, expecting to move forward, had only constructed temporary positions in the Imjin hills. Beer had been stocked to celebrate England’s national holiday, St George’s Day, on April 23. Some wondered if the war was over. This relaxed posture was a terrible error. China was preparing the biggest offensive of the war: A third of a million men attacking along a 35-mile front. Aims: Break through the Imjin and Gapyeong valleys; surround the main US force in Korea; annihilate it; and seize Seoul by May Day. The heaviest blow would fall upon the thinly-held Imjin sector. Here, 29th Bde dominated two key roads.

29th Bde, fielding four infantry battalions of approximately 600 men each, comprised: The Gloucester Battalion (Glosters); the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers (RNF), the Royal Ulster Rifles (RUR); and the Belgian Battalion (Belgians). They were supported by Centurion tanks of the Kings 8th Royal Irish Hussars (Hussars); 45th Field Regiment, Royal Artillery (Gunners); and 55 Field Squadron Royal Engineers (Engineers). Against the brigade, China deployed its 63rd Army. Freshly arrived in Korea, it comprised 27 infantry battalions. 29th Bde would face 7-1 odds. Daylight patrols on Sunday, April 22, began spotting movement north of the Imjin. But nobody was prepared for the storm that would break after darkness fell and a full moon rose. At multiple crossing points, Chinese battalions waded the shallow river and stormed forward. Battle was joined.

The RUR’s vehicle-mounted quick reaction force raced across the river to support the Belgians - and was wiped out. Two RNF positions were overrun. Exposed Gunners reverted to a Napoleonic tactic – shooting directly at enemy infantry. The Belgians held, but were forced to withdraw the following morning in a cross-river breakout. Battle was a kaleidoscope. Flares lit the killing ground. Shells detonated with bright, intense flashes. Streaks of Chinese tracer were green; outgoing was red. Defenders heard eerie Chinese bugle calls, then saw faces appear before the charge. Fighting was traumatically intense: Up close, in darkness. An RNF major threw 80 hand grenades; other men hurled ration cans when grenades ran out; an RNF boxer punched charging Chinese troops. A frightening figure – long haired, dressed in black robes – was spotted leading Chinese assaults. Yet 29th Bde held for three nights, denying a key road to the enemy. Early on April 25, all UN forces were ordered to retreat south. 29 Bde would have to conduct “withdrawal in contact:” the most dangerous operation of war.

Dawn. Mist coated the Imjin Valley. Chinese, fearing UN tanks and airpower in daylight, crawled into cover. Columns of British snaked off the hills, loading wounded and gear onto vehicles, then marching quickly south. Hussar Centurion tanks covered the infantry. The mist lifted. Tension mounted. In the open, out of its positions, 29th Bde was vulnerable. Covertly, Chinese infiltrators had established ambushes along the road. Route 11 was now a four-mile enfilade. The trap was sprung. Figures – ones and twos; scores; hundreds; thousands – stood up along the ridges. Then the Chinese surged down onto the valley floor. Command disintegrated. Men bounded from cover to cover. Others escaped along the ridges. Engineers were hurled into the battle – the last reserve. It was a bloody melee. Racing tanks fired into crowds of enemy, point-blank. Chinese swarmed one Centurion, which drove through a cottage to dislodge its attackers; others sprayed each other with machine guns. Soldiers – friend and enemy – were churned under spinning, bloodied tracks. The last Centurions down the valley bypassed the Chinese road block by roaring through the rice fields, cross-country. At the valley’s mouth the Belgian battalion, redeployed, held a rearguard position. Despite hideous carnage, 29 Bde managed to break free. But for one battalion, it was too late. At Hill 235, the Glosters were fighting to the last round.

The Glosters, recruited from southwestern England’s gentle countryside, were not an elite. But at Solma-ri, in the Imjin Valley, these quiet soldiers, together with men of C Troop, 170th Independent Mortar Troop, Royal Artillery, forged a legend that ranks alongside the most epic stands in British history: Hastings (1066); Isandlwana (1897) and Arnhem (1944). Across the river, Chinese deployed with a 9-1 advantage. First objective: A Company’s hilltop, surmounted by an ancient Silla Dynasty fortification, Chilchung Seong, or “Castle Site.” Defenders were swamped. A Co’s commander radioed for withdrawal permission. Denied. He was killed minutes later. Chinese seized the summit, but were destroyed in a sacrificial charge by Lt. Phil Curtis. At dawn, survivors withdrew to Hill 235 (behind this memorial). They were joined by D Company, whose left flank had been overrun. Quiet descended. As wounded were driven in ambulance jeeps down the road behind this position, they were machine gunned. The Glosters were surrounded. After dark on April 23, B Company, positioned behind the hill opposite the memorial, were stormed. Their position had tree cover - meaning Chinese mortars sent wood splinters hurtling into the Gloster trenches. After fighting all night, survivors regrouped on the summit. Out of ammunition, they charged through Chinese lines. Just 20 (of 120) reached Hill 235. Exposed, C Company, too, joined the battalion on Hill 235.

The Glosters were now compressed into a single, all-round perimeter. A counterattack by Hussar tanks and Philippine infantry failed; aircraft reported a “ring of iron” around them. In the sunshine, battle-shocked men tried to imagine the Imjin Valley was English countryside; their padre prayed for the afternoon to last forever. Inevitably, darkness fell. All around, burned hundreds of ground fires, from artillery and air strikes: An apocalyptic vision. Chinese attacked. Machine guns hammered, explosions flashed, bodies piled up. By dawn, Chinese had seized the highest point. The Glosters’ oldest, most experienced soldiers counterattacked - success! But downslope, hundreds more Chinese were massing. Things looked hopeless - until US aircraft appeared. With pinpoint precision, jets dropped “hell bombs:” napalm. Horrified Glosters heard the screams of Chinese being burnt alive in the lava-like incendiary. Then silence. April 25. The Glosters held, denying the road beside this park to the enemy. But they were cut off, out of ammunition, and all UN units were withdrawing. Over a dying radio, the Glosters heard that a US operation to rescue them had been redeployed. Lt. Col. James Carne gave his final order: Try and extricate in small groups. Amid the hills, unarmed, exhausted, Glosters were rounded up. Ahead of them lay a march to the grim North Korean prison camps. Captured, none knew they had generated awe across the free world, leading to a new name: “The Glorious Glosters.” At the Imjin, 29th Bde suffered over 1,000 casualties; Chinese forces suffered 7,000-10,000. By holding the key breakthrough point during the shock phase of China’s biggest offensive for three days, 29th Bde contributed significantly to its failure.

The Glosters’ stand seized the globe’s imagination. They were awarded a US Presidential Unit Citation; US 8th Army Commander General James Van Fleet called their fight, “The greatest example of unit bravery in modern warfare.” France’s Le Figaro wrote: “The courage and obstinacy of these Britons, together with the extent of their losses, compels one to speak of them with hushed voice, in a tone of sacred reverence.” After the US, the UK deployed the second-largest contingent of the UN Command. Britons fought on the “Pusan Perimeter;” led the UNC assault up the west flank of North Korea, and rear-guarded its retreat; and the Commonwealth Division, incorporating Australian, British, Canadian and New Zealand troops, held strategic terrain north of Seoul. The Royal Navy patrolled the Yellow Sea/West Sea, while Royal Marine Commandos raided deep into North Korea. Over 81,000 Britons served. Among them, 1,078 were killed; 2,674 wounded and 254 missing - making Korea the UK’s costliest conflict since World War II, generating more casualties than the Falklands, Iraq and Afghanistan combined. Some veterans decline to visit Korea due to traumatic memories. But those who return are very deeply moved to see the nation that rose from the ruins. Koreans engineered an economic miracle in the 1960s and a democratic transition in 1987. Now an industrial powerhouse, Korea is home to leading global brands, a superb national infrastructure and a globally admired pop culture. Millennial Britons and Koreans are divided by language and culture, but share a devotion to democracy, rights and freedoms. In terms of values and aspirations, they are near-identical. Veterans recognize that Korea’s national success provides post facto justification for their efforts. Gloster Cpl. Sam Mercer named his house Solma-ri; Gunner Lt. George Truell named his son Imjin. A last word goes to Hussar Lt. John Preston-Bell: “What do giving and loving have in common? There is no difference; they are the same. I had given a year of my life and nearly lost it. I had not realized what the Koreans had done with my little contribution. When I saw their gratitude – and the way they had created this brand new, wonderful, prosperous new nation – I wanted to say: ‘Don’t thank me. It is you who have made my life worthwhile…It is you who have magnified me.”