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Sandwiched between the Second World War and Vietnam, it was fought in an age before television, and the war-weary British public, barely out of rationing, had little appetite for further conflict.
The vast majority of British soldiers who served were National Service and once their time was up they often came home, were demobbed and went straight back into the workplace with little recognition of their sacrifice. But it was by chance, when shooting a feature on the Dorset coast over a year ago, that I met veteran Harry Hawksworth, who put me in contact with the remnants of the now defunct British Korean Veterans Association.
I have been deeply touched by not only their heroism and humility but also their willingness to talk about experiences that many had kept to themselves for decades.
What struck me most of all was the importance of feeling amongst all 12 that someone was telling their story; the majority seemed to share the sense that British governments over the years had Jet blues strategic intent very little to remember the sacrifices of soldiers.
In fact, the relatively new Korean Memorial on the Embankment was gifted by the South Koreans and some smaller private donations. Perhaps Korea has just been drowned out. Included in these dozen portraits are an officer, a medic, some infantrymen, a gunner and a military policeman, all with very different experiences of the war.
Nearly half the number were photographed and interviewed at the Royal Hospital Chelsea, where they receive the very highest quality of care, along with veterans from many other wars. The others I met either in their private residences or residential care homes.
All in their late eighties now, most were either in their teens or early twenties at the time, fighting in a country that, until their orders came through, most had never heard of. Although I personally can never see a time when the human race will be at peace, I strongly believe the importance of never forgetting the sacrifices made nor the horror we force upon each other in times of conflict, often for little gain.
South Korea was worth fighting for — look at them today. Nineteen and stupid I was scared stiff. Oh god, you could smell it drifting. You can imagine the relief! Any aspect of health really.
It was quite amusing, in a way. I remember we ran a little seminar for some of the frontline troops, who were grateful for a little rest, as it were. One of the things we showed them was we found the dirtiest ditch we could find that was full of water and we filtered it and offered it to them to drink.
They then realised that could really be useful if they were stuck somewhere; it could really save their lives. It was only later that we got worried. Earlier on in the war an F, an American jet, attacked us. It came in machine gunning and then released two napalm bombs, but they landed on the hill behind us.
The only casualty was one of the fellas who dived into his bunker and landed onto something he was cooking and got burnt.
At the British positions there were no lights showing. With the Americans there was lots of noise and lights flashing; with us, they never knew how many of us there were. You could see for bloody miles, there was a river going through, but we kept our eyes on the barbed wire and the scrub in front of us and if anything moved we shot at it.
But all they sent was a lorry for the kit bags. We had to march to the castle in Norwich. Gerry Farmer, Royal Fusiliers Age when deployed: All my friends I was at school with joined the army; a couple got killed in Malaya.
It was more closer kind of warfare, so we used the Sten gun. Some had the magazine on the top but we liked the side ones.
We went on the Orwell, a German liner. It had big eagles stamped into where the funnels were. The first time I looked out the porthole I saw a camel with a guy wearing a red fez.
I was the second one down the gangplank. It was the whole regiment; on the quayside there was a black American band doing the St Louis blues. We got mortared on the hook. The Chinese were mortaring all the time.
It landed about a yard from the Jeep and blew me out about 40 yards. The Chinese were just like us; they were young kids just like us and national service.
Everything was so close-call, we used to have American stuff, like flak jackets.A strategic intent statement is a single-page document that defines a company's goals in a clear and specific manner.
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