While in the cadets at Shrewsbury, John Yeoward wore the badge of the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry, but had not given much thought to service in the Army beyond that. He was more interested in ‘his horses, his dog and his gun,’ according to his mother. He grew up farming and ferreting in Herefordshire with his father, who was always kind to serving officers who came around. When the adjutant of the Hereforshire Light Infantry, Bob Maslin Jones, stopped one day for lunch and to shoot rabbits, he turned to John and asked what he planned on doing for his National Service. Not having a much inclination one way or another, he suggested John join the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry as it was a county regiment and that he could have a word with the general.
As expected, John was called up for service when he left school and reported to the Light Infantry Brigade training center. He was lucky to be able to give a five-minute speech about ferreting for his final interview, for the interviewer was about to retire to Devon on a farm overrun with rabbits and was extremely interested in John’s talk. Also present was the Colonel, who asked where John was from. When he proudly replied “Herefordshire!” the Colonel noted that his father was the master of the North Herefordshire foxhounds, which young Yeoward countered that it was his father who was the master now.
After that, he was off to Eaton Hall where he faced dreaded exams. He much preferred to be jumping over walls with a rifle on his back than in a classroom. He happened to have the highest grade of the class, thought it was not enough to pass and the entire class had done poorly and had to retake it. He was not as fortunate the second time and failed again while everyone else earned a passing grade. Fortunately, he was one of the captain’s ‘top boys’ and he offered that John either take the whole course again or forget the exam and try to pass a fourth, which would grant him a commission. He chose the latter and for days after agonized while waiting for results. He found on the notice board during those few long days that there was a request for men wishing to join units in Korea. He wrote his name in – the first on the list. His exam results came later, barley passing with a sixty-four.
He joined the Duke of Cambridge’s Light Infantry for a spell in Burford while waiting to sail for Korea. With the Light Infantry Brigade’s replacement draft headed for Korea, he met Major Bancroft, Captain Tom Hill, and 2d Lieutenant Tony Pack. They left just before Christmas 1951, leaving four inches of snow for a four-week journey to Kure. Lieutenant Pack went with forty-four men straight to Korea, joining his old A Company that he served with previously in Malaya, while the other officers were to attend the battle school at the Japan Reinforcement Base Depot. Major Bancroft quickly made himself unpopular, demanding to go straight to Korea instead of going through the three-week course. John and Tom ‘held on to his coat tails,’ and they were able to skip the course and head for the 1st Battalion.
ARMISTICE HEIGHTS
Cold winds bit at the hands of a woman filleting a fish in a puddle in the road as the officers made their way up to the K.S.L.I. The fleeting glimpse of her remained a vivid picture of the life of so many Koreans during the war. On reaching the battalion, John was introduced to Colonel Barlow and joined him for drinks in the mess.
“Did you come up with Major Bancroft?” they inquired.
“Well, yes, I did.”
“I pity the poor chap who gets put in his company! His chances of survival are about fifty percent!”
As they jested, Major Bancroft’s head popped through the tent. “Come on, John, you’re coming with me. Bye bye, chaps!” The Major was very cheery as they headed off for B Company. It was known within the battalion that Bancroft was apt to bully submissive people, so John made a point of being blunt and honest with him and they quickly formed a good relationship.
Each company position was on a hill top miles apart from each other across the features known as Armistice Heights, Point 227 and the notorious 355. A thin snow covered the hills during January with severe frost that ensured their beer typically arrived solid. They communicated by wireless sets and relied heavily on artillery for defense between them. They had just returned to the front and the company was in a terrible state of morale. Bancroft was to replace a George Hudson, a ‘nice chap from the Royal Fusiliers who had no discipline, but was delightful.’ He had been standing in for Major Tate, the commanding officer who had recently been killed in action. Major Bancroft took one look at their long hair, dirty faces, and low morale and set about remediating their issues. He sent John off to 4 Platoon, only twenty-five men strong instead of the typical forty, to take over for their leader who had a week left to serve.
Major Bancroft was ‘full of clever ideas.’ They made charcoal burners for sentries, dug outs to slip weapons into during stonks to keep the dry winter dust off of them, and cut 40-gallon drums into baths. To heat them, they collected cigarettes from everyone to give to the Korean porters in exchange for charcoal. Their cigarette supply was abundant and the exchange became a weekly occurrence. The weather was so cold that on one occasion, after boiling water to wash with, John stepped outside his tent and dumped it over his head when it promptly froze solid.
Infiltrators and knifings at headquarters during the night were among the immediate issues and the battalion set ambushes to intercept these assassins. John took a patrol from eight o’clock at night to one in the morning. He had a sergeant and a few men ‘armed to the teeth.’ He asserted once they set their ambush, they were not to move until relief came. They waited in the freezing air, becoming progressively number and stiffer while nothing happened until John set off at one to meet their relief force and bring them together for a moonlight breakfast.
On his way over, he saw four silhouettes approaching and mentally cursed them out for having moved, as it meant both patrols were moving at the same time. Not five yards away, he ‘saw their slitty eyes’ and realized they were not his men. He fumbled for his carbine, which failed to fire – for some reason he did not recall later, he was not carrying a Sten that night. He yelled to his men to look out and dove headfirst off a steep slope. The Chinese trotted past right into his men who opened up on them. A bigger patrol in the morning flushed them out and capture one boy of sixteen who so willingly surrendered after weeks of not eating.
After about four weeks, they moved back into a rest position last used by A Company. They could sleep for a few hours at night except for being awoken by the enormous rats that ran about the bunkers. They were horrendous and the size of cats, and no matter what measures the men took to eradicate them, they continued to appear and run across their legs and chests at night. On exiting into the trench, they would pull the blanket aside at the doorway and see up to six of those rats looking back at them.
The infestation seemed to only be affecting 4 Platoon, so Lieutenant Yeoward organized an expedition to find and destroy the origin of the rats. With them came any number of diseases and between that and interrupted sleep, they wished to be rid of the large pests. They found the nest in a Chinese bunker fifty yards down the slope of the hill. As Chinese bunkers were dug down and up with a natural roof, it was very cave like and well suited for the rats. The platoon expedition threw about five gallons of patrol in and stood back from the small entrance. They tossed in grenades with ignited the patrol like a jet engine. It was a cruel method, with rats tearing out flaming only be beaten with pick axes, but it solved their vermin issue.
After three weeks fighting rats, the company returned to the front to Hill 139, relatively exposed as a 'corner' position with Chinese to the front and side where they were shelled every day. As spring appeared with a bright sun that still failed to thaw anything, John experienced a most haunting incident in a minefield, which he always wondered if Major Bancroft blamed him for. The Chinese had been found to be moving minefields and a patrol was ordered to move out to a mined area to intercept the Chinese. The patrol went about a hundred yards out in front and found the wire strung along the edge of the minefield. They followed this to the picket at the corner and turned right to walk out and set their ambush. They had not realized that the Chinese had cut the wire and soon the mines were going up as they walked into the field. The men who John was flowing was victim to a mine and was blown up right in front of him. He was one of two men John lost, plus three stretcher wounded and three walking wounded.
Back on the line and back to ambush and listening patrols, their was one night that the shelling was beyond heavy. It was not ‘absolutely knocking hell’ out of the K.S.L.I. positions. There was nothing they could do but hide in their bunkers pressed against the dirt. Between barrages, however, the men had to scramble out into the trench as it seemed as though an attack was imminent. Lieutenant Yeoward and the sergeant went around telling the troops to “Keep your eyes open mates, it looks like we’re in for a pecking tonight!” Soon they heard bugles and whistles, signallying the attack.
The platoon position must have been a feint, however, as the main attack seemed to be aimed to the left at the King’s Own Scottish Borderers. They covered with fire from rifles, machine guns and mortars under Very lights that illuminated the Chinese coming off the hills like ants. The whole action for 4 Platoon was summed up in the regimental journal as, “brewed up those who had evil intentions to move on us. We received quite a bit of artillery and mortar fire, which made us sandbag up our conveniences which were fast becoming inconveniencies.”
Near the end of the month, Bancroft held a rare officers’ conference. Because they were so spread out across the hills, such an occasion was uncommon, but he had orders for them to move within an hour to a location unknown. The men speculated it had to do with the King’s death or they were to go to Dien Bien Phu in support of the French. The speculated assignments varied so greatly in nature that John had no idea what was best to pack. He approached Bancroft and asked him exactly what they were doing – was it ceremonial with no necessary kit or was it Vietnam and they needed to stock up on ammunition? The major confided B Company was headed for Koje Do to represent the United Nations at the prison camp after the Americans had lost control over 80,000 prisoners. He packed accordingly and kept their destination secret.
KOJE DO
The company embarked on landing craft. No one but John and of course the Major knew their destination. Not even the all-knowing company sergeant major was aware they were headed to Koje Do. They were greeted by Communist prisoners holding huge placards: “Welcome B Coy KSLI.” It was an impressive showing of their extensive knowledge web. They were incredibly resourceful and clever and at that time, had full control of the camp. They had at one time captured the American general, put him in a honey bucket, and brought him into the camp.
They arrived with B Company, Royal Canadian Regiment whose subalterns appeared much older, mature, and well paid. They did not fraternize with the K.S.L.I., but did become friendly with the American 187th Airborne troopers who had guard duty at the camp. The paratroopers, who ‘would not even speak to their own American counterparts,’ quickly took a liking to the K.S.L.I. They were very casual and ‘walked around with hands in their pockets and cigarettes in their mouths.’ By contract, the K.S.L.I. under Bancroft’s leadership showed how professional the British Army could be. They found the prisoners had blacksmith shops, weapons, and any bit of tin was transformed into a potential weapon. There were thousands of them and only eighty men in B Company, but Yeoward felt confident as the K.S.L.I. were the ones with the guns.
Part of their responsibility at the time was the build new camps to break up the prisoners into smaller groups of no more than five hundred. Part of their ongoing problem was the serious Communists would brutally kill anyone who did not align with their views, and there were plenty of casual or even non-believers in the whole lot who were at risk. A thorough screening of one question was enough to determine where to send the prisoners: “Do you want to back to Korea?” Those willing to go back north went to one camp and those answering no went to safety in the other.
A white flag went up one day and an American ambulance came for the prisoner in need of medical care. On his way out, an American soldier snatched his cap, ripped the insignia off and tossed it in the back of the truck. Major Bancroft witnessed the event and ordered the soldier to gather all the pieces and return the cap as it was. The next day, the prisonders tossed a note over the fence: “Thank you to the gentlemen from Britain.” Soon enough they were actually playing sports and joking together. They had a orderly and enjoyable three weeks which only fell apart about two weeks after the company left the camp in the hands of the Americans again.
The camp was not without violence while they were there, despite their high state of order. While General Boatner was giving a lecture, John was elsewhere in the shop with some clerks and cooks. An alert of “They’re cutting the wire!” sent them scrambling for pick handles and John ran out with the cooks only to realize they were about to face more than hand to hand fighting. The Americans immediately arrived in force with tear gas which subdued everyone including Yeoward and his eight men who were ‘reduced to dribble.’ They spent some time laying out in a paddy field catching their breath through wet handkerchiefs. After this incursion, Boatner made an example of the hardcore Communist Camp 76 showing the other camp leaders if they misbehaved how the Americans would storm in with stun grenades and smash the place up.
SAMICHON
The company returned to the battalion in July, by this time in the Samichon Valley and it was back to the life of patrolling. As a farmer brought up by gamekeepers, Yeoward was comfortable and happy to patrol out into the wilderness at night. He had even brought his hunting horn to Korea and teased the Chinese by replying to their characteristic bugle calls with his own. It was rumored he would be starting his own hunting club. Aside from the obvious stress, he had no problems doing the work of creeping across the valley to enemy lines to wait and listen with a wireless operator all night. There was something terrifying, eerie, and beautiful in seeing the nearby hills illuminated with spotlights, Very lights, and long streaks of tracers stretching across the sky.
One of his patrols was set out to create a diversion for the Australians who had the main objective of taking a hill. The Lieutenant’s patrol intended to reach the other side and cause enough of a commotion to catch and divert the attention of the Chinese. They moved out across the dried up Samichon and on reaching their objective, let loose with machineguns and mortars. Once they began taking fire it was time to go and they picked everything up to sprint away to a new position where they waited for over an hour. In the dark scrub they listened with great interest as the battle played out, laughing when the ‘Aussies over the radio were scolded by a ‘plum’ British officer: “Will you please observe correct wireless procedure?” to which the Aussies appropriately replied “To hell with procedure, there’s fucking bullets going all around up here!”’
Their last two weeks in combat kept everyone hesitant to push too far on patrols. Everyone was eagerly looking forward to returning home after months of living in hordes of mosquitos in sweltering bunkers that leaked with enough rain. It was during one of these torrential episodes that the Black Watch came to replace the K.S.L.I. in late August. The hills were so mired it was difficult for vehicles to move about, so their transfer was done largely on foot. With some remorse, they left the Watch to inhabit their damp, leaky bunkers and headed for home.
*
He stayed busy on the ship running up and down the deck blowing his horn when he got a message from the O.C. Troops, a Royal Air Force officer, who requested: “Please, can that young officer put his horn away!” to which a colleague commented that if “Snowy had ever been here, he’d have seen that chap off!” As it turned out, Brigadier A. S. “Snowy” Shaw-Ball, who had commended the K.S.L.I. for a period in Korea but who John had never met, was destined to be his father-in-law.
Colonel Barlow offered him a regular commission while they were on the way home, which John requested a couple of days to think about. He had enjoyed being a platoon leader in Korea. “You were king, your own boss, you had your own hill, dealt your own punishment,” he confided with Major Bancroft, who agreed the young man’s place was in the hills and would suffer in regimental life of parades and what he considered to be ‘all that rubbish.’ He turned down Barlow’s offer for the regular commission.
While in Korea, he learned his father had sold the family farm, and without that to return to he focused on field sports. He still had four years to go in the Territorial Army, where he immediately made company commander and managed to get another pip to make full lieutenant – he had to be twenty-five years old to make captain. He held the company command for all four years and in that time, was made Master of Fox Hounds. He continued to cross paths with Gillian Shaw-Ball and, after buying a farm of his own and returning to farming, they married. Despite many near misses in combat and his success and love of his home, he felt it was a wonderful adventure that he would not have minded going back to. Though the climate was terrible it was a ‘clean war’ with ‘them’ on one side and ‘we’ on the other.