Orders, Decorations and Medals

The Korea War B.E.M. group of four awarded to Corporal R. F. Mathews, Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, who was taken P.O.W. while attached to the Glosters at the battle of Imjin River: for his subsequent resistance to enemy propaganda and coercion, he was ‘arrested, manacled and placed in a very small cell, wherein he lay for many months, emerging only for interrogations of the most brutal kind’

British Empire Medal, (Military) E.II.R. (22305928 Cpl. Robert F. Matthews, R.E.M.E.); War Medal 1939-45; Korea 1950-53 (22305928 Cfn. R. F. Mathews, B.E.M., R.E.M.E.); U.N. Korea, good very fine (4) £2500-3000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, The Ron Penhall Collection.

View
Collection

B.E.M. London Gazette 13 April 1954. The original recommendation states:

‘Corporal Mathews was a young Non-Commissioned Officer who first experienced both active service and the responsibilities of leadership in the field in Korea. After his capture at the battle of the Imjin River on 25 April 1951, he proved his ability to lead to the hilt. Isolated from their officers, Warrant Officers and senior N.C.Os, the bulk of the rank and file held as prisoners of war by the Chinese force were subjected to insidious propaganda, calculated to break all normal ties of loyalty and patriotism; a propaganda all the more dangerous as it offered many material advantages in the way of food, medical attention and minor amenities to those who accepted it, at a time when all were weak or sickly from lack of these. With a small band of others, he formed an organisation which effectively countered this. His activities became known to his captors. Eventually he was arrested, manacled and placed in a very small cell, wherein he lay for many months, emerging only for interrogations of the most brutal kind. He was denied, until the Armistice was signed, even the common right to wash. His food was of the coarsest and poorest kind, totally insufficient to maintain health indefinitely. Throughout this period he showed the utmost fortitude and tenacity. Never once did he reveal the details of members of his organisation to the enemy. His example inspired others to resist; his loyalty and courage were in conformity with the highest traditions of the service.’

Robert F. Mathews won one of nine B.E.Ms to the “Glosters” - or those attached to the Regiment - for their outstanding conduct whilst prisoners of the Chinese. The full story of his Korean sojourn is to be found in his memoir No Rice for Rebels, written by Francis J. Jones, a copy of which is included. The following extracts add a little depth to the necessarily restricted nature of his B.E.M. recommendation:

Imjin

‘I shook my head irritably. That fancy calculation was sheer nonsense. Maybe it was because I was tired. I knew well enough I could never hope to down 84 Chinks. The Bren fired at 600 rounds a minute, which was a damn sight too fast when you’d only three magazines left. If the Commies charge, I decided, or, rather, when they charge, I’ll take them in single shots. If they come too fast - I tried to dismiss that thought - the only thing left, I realised, if that should happen, is to change to automatic fire and start praying. It was too bad I hadn’t any grenades left. Grenades, I reflected, now they’re real weapons for a jam like this. A smile came at the memory of the last one I’d rolled down the hill. It was like taking pennies from a blind man. Pull the pin, count to three and let go. The Mills exploded just about a yard in front of the leading Chink, and in that moment Mao Tse-Tung lost half a dozen of his soldiers. Spud Murphy, over on my left, got the rest with his Vickers. I looked up in Spud’s direction. He was in his machine-gun pit, giving the Vickers a fast going-over with an oily rag. It didn’t surprise me. Sergeant Murphy was meticulous over weapons; too fussy, some of us thought, but it was a good fault. I was all for it. If that Vickers had jammed 20 minutes ago ... ’

Capture

‘Most of us have experienced, at some time or other, the uneasy feeling which comes of a conviction that we are being watched. I felt it then, strongly. I turned my head, saw no one, and was nestling my cheek on the stock of the carbine again when a voice shouted. It came from above and behind us. I couldn’t make out the words because I don’t understand Chinese, but their meaning didn’t need interpretation. I whipped my head round, saw the grey cotton-clad soldier who was menacing us with his burp gun, and automatically my finger uncurled from the trigger of the carbine. Another order came, this time sharp and peremptory. I nudged the Bren gunner. “Pack in,” I advised. “He’s got you cold.” Both of us got up slowly. We turned outstretched palms facing the Chinese, our own weapons cocked, ready for action, and useless, on the ground behind us ... ’

Escape

‘It took only a few minutes to exhume the buried knife, recover the map and ground sheet, and collect sugar, rice and other oddments from the cook-house. Towards 8 p.m. I slipped out of my hut and moved silently through the near-darkness to the one Charlie lived in ... Five minutes later two bulky figures emerged into the night ... We went fast, very fast, with the fear of the challenge “Heh!” and the shots that would follow it to spur us on. Our rubber shoes made no sound beyond the sharp crunch of cut stalks. The packs, roped securely to our backs, stayed glued to us, and only a desperate intake of breath every few yards remained to warn outlying sentries that something was afoot ... ’

Re-capture after three days and 40 miles

‘He was very quick. We were barely 50 yards father on when the first shot sounded. “Faster, Bob!” Charlie urged. I speeded up as the shooting continued, and immediately Charlie fell in behind me. It was a gallant gesture, and I realised his strategy. In the darkness, the Korean would be firing blindly, and with this move Charlie halved his target. I heard the zipp! of a bullet somewhere above my head, and my feet began to spurn the rough track ... We were three miles further on, and it was quite dark, when disaster struck. By now we had got over the shooting scare and were feeling confident again. Suddenly, a bare ten yards ahead of us, a clatter of nailed boots sounded, torches flashed, and three men came running down the road. They were Korean soldiers, all armed with rifles. It was obvious from the start that neither “Meera” nor Stalin nor “Wo fahren-sie?” would cut any ice with this trio. We had been expected, and all the bluff in the world wasn’t going to do us the least good ... ’

“The Kennel Club”

‘The Man in Brief put the pen down slowly. His face remained impassive. When he looked up, there was neither anger nor annoyance in his gaze. “Very well,” he said evenly. “So you understand neither duty nor obligation.” He got up from his chair. “Your present quarters are too comfortable,” he added. “We have prepared another room for you. You may go.” Despite the formality in his tone, I had an ominous feeling that I’d now said goodbye to any protection that the lenient policy may or may not have extended. Still, it had to come. Yo Heng was calling the tune, and willy-nilly I’d have to dance to it.

Two guards marched me away. We crossed the open square behind the H.Q. office, and went on for about two hundred yards. A squat building loomed out of the darkness. The guard patrolling outside exchanged a few words with my escort, joined them, and with a rifle prodding me in the back I walked into the building. A pencil of light shone on a small barred door as the sentry groped for the lock. It snapped open and obediently I ducked my head, crouched low and went in.

The door slammed behind me. I froze for a moment as a huge and impenetrable blackness descended. I was in a corridor, I realised, a queer kind of corridor that was forcing me to bend almost double. It baffled me completely. Where the hell does it lead to? I wondered. I walked two steps and recoiled sharply as my head came into contact with something solid. I stopped. Questing fingers reached out to investigate, and a moment later I sat down. It had dawned on me just why the Man in Brief had been able to contain his anger so well. I was now confined in something not much bigger than a packing case. The box was five feet long, less than four feet high, and just wide enough for me to lie on my back. I turned around with difficulty, found the door, and shook it vigorously. I wasn’t staying in this undersized coffin without raising some protest ... ’

Conclusions

‘Captivity is harder than battle. The majority of men, faced by it, adopt the wisest plan, and make the best of things until the day of eventual release. The remainder separate into two easily defined groups. Self-reliant more adventurous types try, with varying degrees of success, to escape. Some of them give in quickly - perhaps a shade too quickly - but extremists, such as Farrar-Hockley and Kinne, either win through, usually after a series of hair-raising adventures, or are killed, or somehow withstand the most brutal attempts of the enemy to break them ... ’

One of Mathews’ fellow members of “The Kennel Club” - there were less than ten of them when he arrived - was indeed Derek Kinne, G.C.

Provenance: Buckland, Dix and Wood, 27 September 1994 (Lot 589).