By October 1950 the North Koreans were on the run. Not everything was as terrifying as it seemed. There were moments of what some called ‘high farce’. An extract from his book, ‘The Korean War’, by Tim Carew, (originally entitled ‘Korea – The Commonwealth at War’), reprinted here gives an indication of one of those events. __________________________________________________ The advance to Sariwon was spearheaded by the 1st Argylls with Major David Wilson’s ‘A’company in the van, travelling in lorries and sitting astride Sherman tanks. The Argylls swept away the negligible opposition in the outskirts of the town with workmanlike precision: they were moving so fast that they hardly bothered to do more then machine-gun the few stout hearted North Koreans who were manning road blocks. Sariwon resembled a ghost town – a decaying mass of crumbling rubble, for it had been thoroughly bombed by the US air force. To the bloated and rotting corpses littering the street, the Argylls had added another fifty. While the Argylls secured the town, the 3rd Battalion The Royal Australian Regiment, spoiling for a fight, pushed through the town to cut the main road from Pyongyang and the North. The Australians took up defensive positions to the north of Sariwon, and with volubly expressed disapproval and itching trigger fingers waited for the scrap which had hitherto been denied to them. They did not have to wait for long… At first the scene in Sariwon was orderly enough, but towards nightfall the situation disintegrated into wildest confusion. The capture of the town had contained elements of high drama, but the later incidents smacked of low comedy, if not knockabout farce. Some 2000 North Koreans, retreating before the sledgehammer American advance, began to trickle into Sariwon, not knowing that 27 Brigade had occupied the town. The North Koreans, who badly needed friends at this stage of the war, encountered a party of Argylls under Lieutenant Robin Fairrie. The North Koreans eyed the Jocks warily: they were clearly not Americans, for they were not wearing helmets but some sort of woollen hats (the Argylls were wearing the knitted ‘cap comforter’, which was the standard headgear for British troops in Korea.) Therefore, deduced the North Koreans, they must be Russians – their natural allies in the fight against Capitalist aggression. A North Korean officer approached Fairrie with outstretched hand. ‘Russky?’ he inquired. Fairrie did some quick thinking: he was outnumbered by something like ten to one, and in a moment of lunatic decision he thought of singing The Volga Boatman. He settled, however for the only Russian word he knew, ‘tovaritch’, and said it loudly, clenching his fist in what he imagined was a Communist salute at the same time; at least thought Fairrie uneasily, none of the Jocks of this particular platoon would admit to being English. The North Korean extended the hand of friendship and the Jocks, entering into the spirit of the thing, made guttural noises in their throats. More handshakes were exchanged, and it seemed to Fairrie that they were well on their way to establishing an entente cordiale with the enemy, particularly when a young woman – ‘and not a bad looker, either’, recalled Fairrie – attached herself to him and exhibited every evidence of goodwill. This uneasy situation continued for some minutes. Then Robin Fairrie, amazed at his luck but reluctant to push it too far, decided to bring down the curtain on a farce which could easily turn into tragedy. It was time, he indicated with dramatic signs and still more guttural noises, to move on. It was then that a roving American jeep came round the corner and plunged both feet into it with sickening thoroughness. The American was wearing a steel helmet, and the friendliness of the North Korean quickly disappeared. A North Korean officer pointed accusingly at the American and demanded: ‘You Russky?’ in a voice which sounded clearly disbelieving. The American, who had been brought up to regard the Russians as his natural enemies, first opened his mouth in incredulous amazement and then went for his gun. The ensuing scene was incredible, even by Korean War standards. The Argylls were ready for instant action – every automatic weapon was cocked – but the North Koreans, rendered careless by the meeting with the ‘Russians’ were not. In the resultant flurry of wild shooting they fled in undignified panic, leaving a score of dead and wounded behind them. It is impossible not to feel a certain sympathy for the luckless North Koreans who came to Sariwon, not knowing that the town was already in Allied hands. They came by the truckload and on foot, from the South and the West: they were tired and dispirited, and wanted sanctuary, food and sleep. They got none of these things. As darkness fell, the situation, confused as it had been in daylight, became chaotic: North Koreans wandered about the town, not knowing where they were going or why, and were shot by prowling Argyll patrols who, after the Russky debacle, had been ordered to shoot first and ask questions afterwards. | 
