The stunning yet emotive Korea War Battle for Hill 282 Victoria Cross Action 23 September 1950 Argyll´s Platoon Commander´s Posthumous United States Silver Star group awarded to 2nd Lieutenant M.D.W. ¨David¨ Buchanan, 1st Battalion, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. From Prestwick and later Ayr, Scotland, he was the son of a Deputy Lieutenant of Ayrshire, and was one of two members of his family to be posthumously awarded the Silver Star Medal by the United States of America for actions during the Korean War, the other being his cousin and a fellow 1st Argylls man, Captain C.N.A. ¨Neil” Buchanan, who earned his award posthumously on 6 September 1950, being the first officer killed from the 1st Argylls. However, the younger David Buchanan, only 21 years old, and the platoon commander of No.5 Platoon, ‘B’ Company, would actually have his award announced first, after he posthumously won it along Major Kenneth Muir, when that officer gained his posthumous award of the Victoria Cross on 23 September 1950. In this action, B Company assault Hill 282 and took it, initially after only a small fight. Elements of the enemy had been bypassed however, and Buchanan together with the company headquarters came across these elements who were now in the process of firing from entrenched positions into the rear of the victors who were on top of the hill. Buchanan led his men straight at the missed enemy, charging up the steep slope and entrenched and determined as they were, he turned them out of their trenches. Owing to heavy enemy counter-attacks, over a period of two hours, during which Buchanan was very much present in leading his platoon in retaking a lost position whilst fighting directly alongside the battalion second-in-command, Major Kenneth Muir, V.C., an unfortunate friendly fire incident in the form of an aerial napalm attack by three American Mustang’s, caused large loss of life and casualties. This incident occurred whilst a North Korean counterattack was ongoing. Major Muir fell repulsing the enemy attack whilst friendly napalm rained down all around and in doing so posthumously won the first Victoria Cross of the Korean War, but with the position untenable owing to the napalm, and in the process himself mortally wounded, 2nd Lieutenant David Buchanan still managed to lead his platoon back to the base of the hill and to safety. There he died. “His gallant and intrepid action, in which he heroically gave his life, is conduct worthy of the highest praise.” In November 1950, General Douglas MacArthur’s headquarters in Tokyo announced the posthumous awards of the Silver Star to three members of the Argylls for the fight on Hill 282, namely Major Kenneth Muir V.C., 2nd Lieutenant M.D.W. Buchanan, and a Private E. Hill, however, whilst reported in numerous newspapers at the time, none of these three men ever had their American awards officially published in the London Gazette, an assumed oversight. All three of these men however now lie buried together in the United Nations Memorial Cemetery in Pusan.
Group of 3: Korea Medal 1950-1953, 1st type obverse; (LT. M.D.W. BUCHANAN. A. & S.H.); United Nations Medal for Korea 1950-1955, unnamed as issued; United States of America: Silver Star Medal, this with the reverse officially engraved: ‘M D W BUCHANAN’. These housed together with three individual ribbon bars, and an officers collar badge of Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, and set into a Spink & Son of London wooden and glazed frame.
Condition: Extremely Fine.
Michael David Walter Buchanan, known as David, was born on 31 May 1929 in Prestwick, Ayrshire, Scotland, the son of Lieutenant Colonel and Brevet Colonel Maurice Bevor (Beaver) Buchanan, C.B.E., T.D., Royal Scots Fusiliers, and a Deputy Lieutenant of Ayrshire, and his wife Charlotte Aimée Walker.
After time spent as an Officer Cadet with the Royal Military College at Sandhurst, he was commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant (No.407775) into the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders on 16 December 1949, being then posted out to join the 1st Battalion in Hong Kong.
Shortly afterwards the Korean War broke out, being publicly announced on 25 August 1950, though it had been known to the 1st Battalion for a couple of days that trouble was brewing, and the Argylls, together the other units that hastily formed the 27th British Brigade, had been on a war footing for a few days, preparing for passage to Korea.
The battalion docked in Pusan harbour in Korea on 29 August 1950, when under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Leslie Neilson, and thus had the honour to be the first British troops to arrive. A nightmare train journey up country followed immediately after the battalion had made itself part the celebratory greetings, and the 27th Brigade collected itself together at Kyongsan, and on 3rd September, via road transport, they moved up country, and on the following day, 4th September, occupied positions on the east bank of the Naktong River, and in doing so relieved the 3/23rd US Infantry Regiment unit of the 1st US Cavalry Division, which the 1st Argylls and the 27th British Brigade found themselves under the command of. The enemy, known as ´The Gook´, were in positions on the other bank of the Naktong River, and also to the south of the 1st Argylls position. 2nd Lieutenant David Buchanan had command of No.5 Platoon with ‘B’ Company.
The position, which the Battalion now occupied, was said to be a quiet sector of the perimeter. This was true as far as lack of shellfire was concerned; and even mortar-fire, though frequent, could hardly be described as heavy. But the fortnight they spent there before crossing the river was invaluable to officers and men alike, for it accustomed them to the peculiar conditions of this campaign, giving them their first experience of the Gook and his tactical habits. It also saw their first battle casualties.
In this southern part the hills are quite high, rising to about 2,000 feet, although on the first position beside the Naktong they were little more than 1,200 feet. These hills were bare on the north and east slopes, with vegetation and pine trees on the south and west, and sometimes the cover was really quite thick. There were little stone villages in the valleys, shaded by poplar trees and enriched by apple orchards, with rice-paddy fields terraced up the lower slopes of the hills.
The real trouble about this first position was the 6,000 yards gap in the so-called perimeter to the south of the Battalion, between them and the nearest American unit. This called for a routine of active patrolling to the south to find out the enemy strength in that area, if necessary by fighting. Such a patrol set off on the afternoon of 6th September 1950 under the command of Captain Neil Buchanan.
Neil Buchanan, whose full name was Charles Neil Anselan Buchanan, was a cousin of David Buchanan.
The patrol under Captain Neil Buchanan duly drew the fire they expected and split into two parties. The fire increased, thus disclosing the strength and disposition of the enemy. As the fire was returned by the patrol and the small-scale but uneven battle developed, it became clear to Buchanan that his little party had accomplished their task and ought to get back with their information. His sergeant (Walker) was wounded, as well as three other men (volunteers from the Leicesters), he himself rendered incapable of being moved except with great danger to his comrades. In these circumstances he properly ordered his men to withdraw and leave him behind. This order had to be repeated before it was reluctantly obeyed, and the patrol slowly withdrew, leaving him where he lay, with his batman Private Taylor, wounded beside him. This was the last the men saw of either of them, and later attempts to find them failed. Colonel Neilson however, though reporting them as ‘missing’, was always convinced they were dead and not prisoners. In this he was proved right, for some months later when the tide of war had flowed beyond it, their graves were found at that spot by an officer whom he had sent to search there. This patrol action cost the Battalion a total of seven casualties in killed and wounded and was on that account unfortunate. Yet nobody had expected the campaign to be easy, and it was generally realised that there would be more hard lessons to be learned before it was over.
Captain Neil Buchanan would perform the first action of the Argyll´s for which decorations would be granted, he being posthumously awarded the American Silver Star in the London Gazette for 8 June 1951, and then posthumously awarded a Mention in Despatches in the London Gazette for 11 December 1951, however despite having performed the first action for which an award would be ultimately granted, owing most probably to it having taken a couple of months for his death to be confirmed, his was not the first of the awards actually publicly announced to members of the 1st Battalion, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, this would fall to his cousin, 2nd Lieutenant David Buchanan, together with the battalion second-in-command, Major Kenneth Muir, and Private E. Hill, all three of whom were posthumously decorated with the United States Silver Star Medal, together with two Bronze Stars, one of which was also posthumous, and all awarded for the Argyll’s famous attack on an enemy position which became known as the Battle of Hill 282 on 23 September 1950. In this action Major Kenneth Muir would also be posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross, the first such award of the Korean War.
Between the 6th and 23rd September, the battalion’s experience of the Gook and his methods was gradually gained by means of day and night patrols into his area. Sometimes this meant crossing, or attempting to cross, the Naktong River, which was about a hundred yards wide on the west front of the Battalion. On one such occasion Captain Penman took a patrol down to the riverbank by night, intending to cross in a small assault boat. When they launched this contraption they soon found that it could not be controlled because the current was too strong, so Penman decided to leave his patrol on the bank in position to cover him, swimming across with his batman Mitchell. Though they were both strong swimmers, Mitchell held the Royal Humane Society’s Certificate, it was as much as they could do to reach the opposite shore. In fact the current caught hold of Mitchell’s Sten gun, which was slung round his neck and resting on his shoulders, pulling the weapon right round to the front so that it was dragging him down. A nasty moment; but grabbing a hand from Penman he managed to land and after completing their reconnaissance they both swam back safely.
The Battalion’s position, each of the three companies stuck on the hills overlooking (and overlooked by) the Gook across the river, or to the south offered few comforts. The most forward company was about 2,000 yards from the enemy positions in the hills to the south, and 1,000 yards from the strongly defended ‘Orchard Area’ across the river. It was so far forward indeed as to be almost isolated. There were no roads or even tracks into its position; rations had to be manhandled by a coolie path, so it was arranged to drop ice to save the weight of carrying water cans! Its casualties were evacuated by helicopter, providentially the day before the heavy rain fell causing flooding. The only ‘road’ ran parallel with the riverbank and therefore in full view of the Gook, so it was not much use except at night. It therefore required caution. One of the Battalion jeeps was overturned on it in daylight by enemy fire and the indefatigable firm of ‘Penman & Mitchell’ rescued its occupants, with some difficulty. After which, even more caution was required.
So for a fortnight the Battalion sat in its slit trenches, learning by patrolling and observation what sort of enemy they were fighting and how best to avoid the effects of his mortar-fire. It was here that the Argylls won their first ‘home’ fixture against the Gooks and it happened like this. At 0300 one morning a strong enemy patrol vigorously attacked a machine-gun section, and though it was driven off it was not before it had inflicted casualties. Next day it was arranged that this machine-gun section should, after dark, move to another position, this time inside ‘A’ Company’s defended locality. This was done, and that night Sergeant Morrison took out a patrol, which duly reported an enemy party on the way. Everyone was alert, and sure enough the Gooks again attacked the former machine-gun position and found it empty. Here was the perfect situation for which the Argylls were waiting. The enemy was within their lines and would have to get out again somehow before daylight. One of the platoon localities was bound to be attacked; and No.1 Platoon under Sergeant Robertson, being on the homeward route, was the one that was selected. Forty-five minutes after the blank attack - minutes packed with suspense for every man in the company - the Gooks cut the telephone line and attacked No.1 Platoon with grenades. Normally this sudden rupture of the silent night would have been the cue for a violent outburst of firing and Verey lights. But that was not the way Robertson proposed to deal with the intruders, knowing very well that night firing is normally ninety per cent inaccurate. Not one man fired in reply and the platoon position remained undisclosed. In this curious silence his company commander spoke to him on the radio and asked what the situation was. Robertson briefly reported that there was a large enemy patrol round his position, and that he was just waiting for enough light to see to shoot and then he would ‘let them have it’. In a few minutes’ time, he did so. The result exceeded all expectations. The Gooks broke and fled with panic-stricken yells, not waiting to fire their weapons in reply and leaving ten dead upon the ground. No.1 Platoon had no casualties. This was the Argyll's first victory.
And what of the enemy? The Gooks had never been encountered before by the British Army and all that was known to the Argylls was that they had rolled back the ROK (South Korean) divisions very rapidly, in spite of the assistance given by such American formations as had managed to reach the line and stiffen the Pusan perimeter. So the Gook had to be judged on his performance, which in turn had to be measured against something known - some accepted standard. An experienced company commander who had fought with the 2nd Battalion, Argylls in Malaya made the following comparison between the Korean and the Japanese. ‘He is not unlike the Japanese in his habits, but I would say he was about 33 per cent as good by day and only about 50 per cent as good by night. I have seen quite a lot of his movements by day (we never saw a Jap though); and his positions, though good and well concealed, are nothing like as good as the Jap positions. Nor does he stay in them till the last man - which is lucky for us. But nevertheless he can fight very bravely indeed. Of course we have not seen the original North Korean who was probably very well trained, and the chaps we have been up against are the third-line reinforcements’. All of which goes to show that the Battalion was opposed by tough Asiatic fighters operating in their own country and heartened by initial successes, a sufficiently formidable opposition for the early stages of a campaign.
But now the tide of war was turning in favour of the tenuous but stouthearted Allies who had held the perimeter for so long. Their ‘build-up’ had now reached the point when large-scale offensive action could be carried out, and plans for crossing the Naktong River in force and driving the enemy westwards were being formed. The original scheme allotted the honour of being first across the water to the Argylls, who were to be the leading unit of the whole 8th Army. However, as on other occasions, the familiar cry of ‘It’s all changed’ was soon heard ringing around, and the 27th Brigade was ordered to cross the river lower down and then protect the left flank of the American advance on Songju. As far as the Battalion was concerned, that meant the usual sordid journey in trucks over mis-named roads to their next sector and crossing place. But it also meant an unopposed crossing, although a certain amount of harassing shellfire accompanied them across the rickety pontoon footbridge, which the Yanks had managed to erect. This shelling apparently came from the direct fire of a roving self-propelled (SP) gun, and continued to give trouble to all who made the river passage, being especially troublesome to the vehicles which were interminably crossing on an improvised mechanical ferry that not infrequently failed.
The 27th British Commonwealth Brigade was now on an ‘Axis’, that is, they were operating on a second-class road. The hills here were much higher and thickly covered with fir trees, presenting good defensive positions for the enemy, and it was plain to Brigadier Coad that the high ground on either side of the road would have to be cleared before the Brigade could resume its advance on Songju. He made his plan accordingly, but had some difficulty in extracting from his Divisional Commander any artillery support, as the Americans believed the hills were not held and the enemy was retreating in considerable disorder. However, on 22nd September the Middlesex attacked the hill on the right of the road and found it occupied, capturing it with surprisingly few casualties after a sharp fight. But it was now after midday, and the Argylls had little enough time and daylight left in which to capture the hill on the left of the road, the other part of the Brigade plan. So Colonel Neilson modified his orders and sent ‘A’ Company under Major Wilson to occupy an intermediate position in their attack on Hill 282 (the main objective) later that afternoon.
So at 1415 hours ‘A’ Company left their assembly position and marched off, well extended, down the road to the accompaniment of some desultory shelling. Considering that the enemy enjoyed unhampered observation of this road it is lucky that nothing fell near enough to cause damage, although the ‘near misses’ were sufficiently unpleasant. This was the preliminary phase of the first Battalion attack that had been attempted and all were keyed up to show their Allies what proper tactical training could do; so David Wilson took advantage of the proximity of the Reconnaissance Company of the 24th US Cavalry Division to arrange for some co-operation from their tanks. It turned out that their commander, though only rated a ‘master sergeant’, was a first-class soldier who had been an Air Force captain in the last war, and on being shown the route and the objectives, agreed to do whatever was required. Thus, as soon as the enemy were sighted on or near the objective, accurate tank fire was opened and ‘A’ Company walked unopposed onto the position and dug in, having suffered no casualties. So the opening phase of the attack was quickly and neatly concluded with protection ensured for the start line of the main attack.
Back at Battalion HQ, Colonel Neilson was pleased with the success of this minor operation, but realised that daylight was not going to last long enough to enable the artillery supporting his main attack to register their defensive fire tasks after Hill 282 had been captured. He therefore obtained permission to delay his next stroke until early the following morning. No violent enemy activity followed ‘A’ Company's action and the night was quiet. There was nothing more that the attacking companies could do. They had moved forward to a ‘lying-up position’; they had all seen their objective by daylight and knew their orders thoroughly. For them there was only that burden of uneasy sleep that comes to all men before a ‘set-piece’ battle, but which bears hardest upon the young and untried soldiers, of whom there were many. Preparations for their dawn attack timed for 0515 hours on 23rd September were now complete.
It was just before dawn that the watchful men of ‘A’ Company heard the other two companies forming up in the dry riverbed below Hill 282. Then, as it grew lighter, they were able to see the leading platoons of ‘B’ Company commanded by Lt. Mackellar and Sergeant O'Sullivan launch themselves up the hill to make contact with the enemy. It was a difficult scramble, picking their way through the densely planted fir trees and among the loose rocks that covered the precipitous slope. It was not the easiest country in which to maintain direction in the half-light, and though a certain intermixture of platoons and companies inevitably occurred, it was all sorted out on arrival at the top. But speed and surprise were the main features of this attack, and in just under one hours climbing the two forward platoons of ‘B’ Company were on their objective and jumping on the necks of a large enemy breakfast party who were completely taken by surprise. There was much confused firing in which both platoon commanders were wounded; but lying on the ground, Mackellar and O'Sullivan cheered their men on, as led by Corporal Sweeney they routed the enemy by a proper Highland charge and drove them downhill. It was a sharp and successful engagement, in which fifteen enemy dead were counted on the position, while other ‘runners’ were seen to be hit, fall and lie still on their way down the reverse slope.
But it was not the whole garrison that was caught at breakfast. In their zeal to reach the top, the leading platoons had unwittingly bypassed another bunch of Gooks who opened fire on Company HQ and No.5 Platoon as they climbed. They did not enjoy their superiority for long. Second Lieutenant David Buchanan led his men straight at them up the steep slope and entrenched and determined as they were, turned them out of their trenches. Thus in just under one hour, the Argylls had captured their objective with a loss of twelve casualties. The secret was the old military principle of surprise, in this case produced by speed and determined leadership.
By this time ‘C’ Company under Major Gillies was on the position and reorganisation began. Notwithstanding this easy win in the first round, Major Gordon-Ingram commanding ‘B’ Company was quite alive to the possibility of a counter-attack which would almost certainly come through his own area rather than that of the other company. Though they had gained their allotted objective, it now appeared that this was only a part of Hill 282 and was in fact overlooked by a higher feature on their left front. Not a secure position by any means, and least of all for Lt. Edington's No.7 Platoon of `C' Company, which found itself (owing to a miscalculation in the dark advance up the hill) the nearest one to the enemy in the other company’s area. Not that it mattered much, for Gillies and Gordon-Ingram who were organising their position, decided that the most important thing was for everyone to dig in at once so as to be ready for any counter-stroke; and when that had been done, they could be ready for the next advance to the higher hill on the left. This eminently sensible decision was shortly to be proved right - if indeed proof was needed. Meanwhile digging started on hastily sited defensive localities; and at the same time they began to get the casualties down from the hill. This proved a very difficult job, for anyone who could not walk had to be assisted down the steep and rocky hillside; and the men of `C' Company being at the moment farther from the enemy than the others, were engaged in this task. This made them ‘a bit thin on the ground’ (as Gillies described it) and when you think that the hill was about 900 feet high, you will realise that it took over an hour to bring a casualty downhill and then rejoin your section on the top. In fact, when at about 0800 hours the expected shelling and mortaring began causing more casualties, it was realised that this was a case for the Battalion stretcher-bearers, and they were called for on the ‘blower’.
About the same time, two other things happened which directly influenced the later course of events that day. First Jock Edington, nearest to the danger, reported that the enemy were trying to ‘infiltrate’ from that high feature on his left front; then both the forward observation officers of the supporting American artillery were withdrawn by their regiment. It was the most unexpected and dangerous thing that could have happened at that moment, for there was the enemy counter-attack developing and the small British force with no adequate means of breaking up this advance at long range. Leslie Neilson at his Tactical HQ was assailed ‘on the air’ by both protesting company commanders, but when he spoke to his brigadier he found that all artillery support had been withdrawn by orders from the Division HQ. There was nothing he could do about it, since he knew that the tank guns, though willing to help, were quite useless because of the lie of the land. An unpleasant predicament for a commanding officer who sees his men isolated in face of the enemy and can do little to support them.
But something else was happening on Hill 282 of which he was unaware. As the expected attack on No.7 Platoon developed, so the gaps in Jock Edington’s ranks widened and Alistair Gordon-Ingram decided the platoon must be reinforced if that vital position was to be held. Both its commander and its sergeant were wounded and there were so many other casualties that the platoon had virtually lost its identity as a fighting unit. Buchanan was therefore ordered to take his men forward and plug the holes, and for two more hours they fought off the enemy. It was no light task, for they were taking punishment all the time, as the dense undergrowth in front of them made it easy for the Gooks to approach unseen to within a few yards of this sitting target and fire their ‘Burp’ guns. Towards 1100, Gordon-Ingram realised that this unequal contest must be stopped. The platoon could no longer effectively withstand this relentless attack unsupported and must now come within the main defended area of the company. The necessary orders were given and Buchanan skilfully withdrew the remnant of his platoon, still holding the enemy at bay.
It was about this moment that a breath of fresh air reached the small fighting force, a party of stretcher-bearers (including some Middlesex volunteers) led by the second-in-command, Major Muir, arrived on the hill. Here at any rate was practical help with a chance of speeding the wounded down to the dressing station - a vital necessity since no morphine was available. Sgt-Major Collett who had been working the system of evacuation, now seized thankfully on these new helpers and organised the dressing, carrying and checking of the wounded. Kenny Muir on the other hand, found himself the senior officer in a rather confused situation, with numerous casualties and a strong enemy attack developing. As Neilson’s ‘second’ he should, in principle, have been back at the main Battalion HQ. But you cannot always go by the book and here Kenny agreed with the French Marshall Foch that it was a case of ‘To Hell with principles! What’s the problem?’
The problem was to hold the crest; but with ammunition running low and casualties increasing, the best method was not so obvious. One thing was clear to him and that was that he himself ought to stay there and take command of the situation. This was his personal decision and Leslie Neilson has recorded, that when Muir reported he was up there, he was glad of it. So Muir set about the business of re-organising the two companies into one force, making fresh dispositions and centralising the collection of ammunition from the casualties and its re-distribution to the firing line. In this he was helped by a comparative lull in the enemy activity, during which he called on the radio for fire from the tanks to break up the enemy concentrations, which had been observed on the downward slope to the left. The tanks responded, but from their position their guns, which were not designed for this kind of fire support, could not hit the target. The danger on the flank therefore continued unchecked. Muir then spoke to his colonel on the radio and agreed with him that since artillery support was non-existent and tank support ineffective, an ‘air strike’ on the high ridge held by the enemy 1,500 yards to the left was the only alternative. Though it could not hit those actually attacking, it might well discourage others and strike a severe blow at reserves moving up to the attack.
So it was arranged. The ‘recognition panels’ were put out, so the US Air Force could distinguish their position, and Muir’s force set about repulsing the enemy with their own weapons until the air strike could materialise. Muir himself was the mainspring of the defence and was universally recognised as such. Survivors have written that ‘he was literally everywhere’ which is proof enough that his personality impressed itself upon every man of his small and dwindling command. Wherever the need lay, there was the short, square-shouldered figure in a Balmoral to be seen encouraging the men by voice and example, helping the wounded, distributing the ammunition and directing the fire. Regardless of personal safety, he had so warmed up the defence, that in the opinion of both Gordon-Ingram and Gillies the tide had turned in their favour, with the situation once more well in hand. All were now confident that the hill could be held, indeed there were even signs that the enemy had had enough and was starting to withdraw. This was about 1215, and shortly afterwards the sound of approaching aeroplanes was heard. The hearts of the defenders leaped up as the promised air support sailed into view - and then it came. Circling round, apparently to make sure of their target, the three Mustangs each made a ‘run in’, dropped a napalm bomb and followed this by a machine-gun attack, right on the Argylls position. The whole surprising tragedy was over in two minutes, leaving the top of the hill a sea of fire which threatened to destroy both fit and wounded alike. The ridge became quite untenable; the irreplaceable reserve ammunition was exploding everywhere in flames, and the majority of the defenders were forced to escape the fire by plunging down the sheer slope. These, in fact, were unable to take any further part in the battle, because by the time they reached the top again the action was over. Down below, the Commanding Officer and his Tactical HQ, as well as ‘A’ Company from their defended locality, were impotent witnesses of this dreadful debacle (‘A’ Co in fact attracted a low-flying attack to itself); but they were also proud spectators of the action taken to restore the situation.
On the flaming hilltop Muir, Gordon-Ingram, Penman, Sgt-Major Murray and such others as had not been wounded in the air-attack, withdrew to the lower ridge still occupied by ‘C’ Company HQ. There is no doubt that a complete retreat from the hill would have been justified at this time and permission was given for this. But Muir, whose mind was still on the battle, watched the flames die down and then was able to observe that not only had the enemy failed to take immediate advantage of the situation and occupy the top, but that a small sector of it was still being defended by the wounded Private Watt and a few men. That decided Muir: the crest must be retaken and held so that the wounded would have adequate time to be taken down to safety. But their losses had been severe and it was by no means certain, that the survivors were in a fit state for action after that devastating air attack. However, it represented the only chance, so Muir and his officers rounded up what fighting men they could find and a band of about thirty was collected. Shaken though they were, they responded at once to orders. Kenny Muir took command, and shouting to Jim Gillies to give them covering fire led them with a cheer back to the smouldering hilltop in a hail of fire.
So the ridge was once more Argyll territory; yet they could muster no more than fourteen survivors to defend it, even though a few men began to reappear from below, for the counter-charge had cost them dearly. The ammunition situation was alarming; the flames had destroyed their small reserve, and even a ‘service burst’ of five rounds from a Bren gun was a luxury that could rarely be afforded. It was in these circumstances that the enemy was seen to be closing in with determination on three sides and firing from the trees that overlooked Scotland’s tenuous foothold. Here indeed was a desperate situation if ever there was one, yet I doubt if any officer or man regarded it as such, for Kenny Muir had inspired everyone on that tiny, flame-scorched battlefield by his personal example of courage and determination. Still shouting encouragement and advice to his men, and moving around each sector of his restricted perimeter, he animated the defenders with his own indomitable spirit.
At last the ammunition for his Sten gun was finished. Throwing it down he seized a 2-inch mortar and with Gordon-Ingram loading for him, was engaging the enemy with considerable effect when he was struck down. Mortally wounded by two bursts of automatic fire they carried him off the field. Yet even then his determination remained unshaken, and his last words as they lifted him up were ‘The Gooks will never get the Argylls off this ridge’. Would that his words could have been made true! But Gordon-Ingram, on counting his men, could find only ten who were fit (with many of these wounded) and hardly one magazine for each of his Bren guns. The decision to withdraw to the lower ridge was forced upon him tactically; but when he reached it, he found ‘C’ Company just as weak in numbers and ammunition as his own men. He realised then that the fight for Hill 282 was over and with supreme reluctance asked permission to withdraw. Convinced of the necessity, Colonel Neilson agreed with him on the radio and gave the necessary leave. And so the remnants of the two companies left the scene of their nine-hour battle, still under enemy fire and still fighting. They came down the hill in proper order, with their arms, leaving neither wounded nor weapons behind them, each group covering the movement of the next by fire. As a final tribute to their discipline which had endured above all, only six rifles and two Bren guns were needed to re-arm the survivors.
By 1500 all were back at the foot of the hill, but it was impossible to make a proper roll-call as many men had been employed in casualty carrying and were therefore presumed to be at, or en route to, the Aid Post. All medical resources were promptly made available, and the Middlesex Regimental Aid Post was sharing the heavy task that had fallen on Haldane the Battalion medical officer and his orderlies. When it was at last possible to make a check the next day it was found that the casualty list amounted to 17 killed and missing and 76 wounded.
Amongst the dead on 23 September 1950 was young 2nd Lieutenant David Buchanan, whose cousin of Neil Buchanan who had been killed a fortnight before on 6th September. He was a victim of the mistaken air strike after having sustained the enemy’s fiercest attacks for two hours. “Notwithstanding his mortal wounds, he safely led his platoon back to the base of the hill. There he died.”
Amongst the wounded were all the platoon commanders and platoon sergeants, Corporal Sweeney who had led the first charge on the top of the hill, Private Watt the tenacious defender of his sector of the burning ridge, ‘whence all but he had fled’ and the formidable firm of ‘Penman & Mitchell’.
Soon afterwards, the newspapers would report of the heroism of three Argyls, namely Major Kenneth Muir, 2nd Lieutenant M.D.W. “David” Buchanan, and a Private E. Hill, all of who were to be posthumously awarded the Silver Star by the United States of America. One newspaper detailed this under the headline of ‘3 Argylls Win the First Battle Medals of Korea War. It seems that in all three posthumous Silver Stars and some five Bronze Stars were being awarded to the Argylls. These numerous newspaper articles, which predominantly date from November 1950, note that the awards were announced through General MacArthur’s Headquarters in Tokyo.
However, none of these three men were to have their names officially published in the London Gazette, an occurrence which would be seen in the case of the Silver Star to Captain Neil Buchanan, whose last act on 6 September 1950 would lead to his being posthumously awarded the American Silver Star, his award being published in the London Gazette for 8 June 1951, along with two other awards of the Silver Star to members of the 1st Argylls, namely the battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel George Leslie Neilson, and Major James Blair Gillies, the C Company commander who had laid down covering fire.
So what of Muir, David Buchanan and Private E. Hill? It seems that none of these three men had their awards of the Silver Star officially published in the London Gazette.
The only one of the three to get his name published in the gazette was Major Kenneth Muir, when his posthumous award of the Victoria Cross was announced in the London Gazette for 5 January 1951.
His citation for the Victoria Cross reads as follows: ‘On 23rd September, 1950, " B " and " C “ Companies of the 1st Battalion, The Argyll and Sutherlands Highlanders, attacked an enemy-held feature, Hill 282, and by 0800 hours had consolidated upon it. Some difficulty was experienced in
evacuating the wounded from the position and demands were made for stretcher-bearing parties to be sent forward by the Battalion. At this juncture the position came under mortar and shell fire. At approximately 0900 hours a stretcher-bearing party arrived and with it came the Battalion Second-in-Command, Major K.Muir. He proceeded to organise the evacuation of the casualties.
At approximately 0930 hours, small parties of the enemy started to infiltrate on the left flank necessitating the reinforcing of the forward platoon. For the next hour this in- filtration increased, as did the shelling and mortaring, causing further casualties within
the two companies. By 1100 hours, casualties were moderately severe and some difficulty was being experienced in holding the enemy. In addition, due to reinforcing the left flank and to providing personnel to assist with the wounded, both companies were so inextricably mixed that it was obvious that they must come under a unified command. Major Muir, although only visiting the position, automatically took over command and with complete disregard for his own personal safety, started to move around the forward elements, cheering on and encouraging the men to greater efforts despite the fact that ammunition was running low. He was continually under enemy fire, and, despite entreaties from officers and men alike, refused to take cover.
An air-strike against the enemy was arranged and air recognition panels were put out on the ground. At approximately 1215 hours the air-strike came in, but unfortunately the aircraft hit the Companies’ position instead of that of the enemy. The main defensive position was hit with fire bombs and machine gun fire, causing more casualties and necessitating the withdrawal of the remaining troops to a position some fifty feet below the crest. There is no doubt that a complete retreat from the hill would have been fully justified at this time. Only some thirty fighting men remained and ammunition was extremely low. Major MUIR, however, realised that the enemy had not taken immediate advantage of the unfortunate incident and that the crest was still unoccupied although under fire.
With the assistance of the three remaining officers, he immediately formed a small force of some thirty all ranks and personally led a counter-attack on the crest. To appreciate fully the implication of this, it is necessary to realise how demoralising the effect of the air-strike had been and it was entirely due to the courage, determination and splendid example of this officer that such a counter-attack was possible. All ranks responded magnificently and the crest was re-taken.
From this moment on, Major MUIR’S actions were beyond all possible praise. He was determined that the wounded would have adequate time to be taken out and he was just as determined that the enemy would not take the crest. Grossly outnumbered and under heavy automatic fire, Major MUIR moved about his small force re-distributing fast diminishing ammunition and when the ammunition for his own weapon was spent, he took over a 2 inch mortar which he used with very great effect against the enemy. While firing the mortar, he was still shouting encouragements and advice to his men and for a further five minutes the enemy were held. Finally, Major MUIR was hit with two bursts of automatic fire which mortally wounded him, but even then he retained consciousness and was still as determined to fight on. His last words were: —" The Gooks will never drive the Argylls off this hill”.
The effect of his splendid leadership on the men was nothing short of amazing and it was entirely due to his magnificent courage and example and the spirit which he imbued in those about him that all wounded were evacuated from the hill, and, as was subsequently discovered, very heavy casualties inflicted on the enemy in the defence of the crest.’
On a further note, Major Kenneth Muir was ultimately awarded the United States Distinguished Service Cross, the award which is one level higher to the Silver Star Medal, with this fact known owing to it being with his medal group on display at the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders Museum at Stirling Castle in Scotland.
So despite official confirmation and numerous references to the awards in the newspapers, details that Major Kenneth Muir, V.C., 2nd Lieutenant Neil Buchanan and Private E. Hill (No.22186756) were posthumously awarded the Silver Star Medal through General Douglas MacArthur’s headquarters in Toyko during November 1950, none of there three awards were officially gazetted through British channels, and to this day they remain confirmed (yet officially unconfirmed from British sources) American Gallantry awards to the British military for the Korean War.
With this therefore in mind, the citation for the posthumous Silver Star to 2nd Lieutenant M.D.W. “David” Buchanan, 5 Platoon Commander, ‘B’ Company, 1st Battalion, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, cannot be found through official British sources, however the numerous newspaper articles bear reference to it, mostly in part, and from these I have pieced it together.
‘2nd Lieutenant M.D.W. Buchanan, of Ayr, led his platoon in the dawn assault on the hill with utter disregard for danger. Later he rallied his men and led them to retake the position, but they were overrun bathe fierce counter-attack. Notwithstanding mortal wounds, he safely led his platoon back to the base of the hill (this in the wake of the American friendly fire aerial Napalm attack). There he died. His gallant and intrepid action, in which he heroically gave his life, is conduct worthy of the highest praise.’
Buchanan who is officially listed as killed in action on 23 September 1950, was only 21 years old at the time of his death, and he now lies buried in the United Nations Cemetery at Pusan, with his name, shown simply as ´David´, also inscribed on this parents grave in Dunure Cemetery, Dunure, South Ayrshire.
