AN AMERICAN VIEW OF SIR JOHN HUNT

Press, Volume LXXXIX, Issue 27074, 24 June 1953, Page 8

AN AMERICAN VIEW OF SIR JOHN HUNT

“KEEN”

CBv

JOSEPH and STEWART ALSOP

’ in the "New York Herald Tribune”}

(Reprinted by Arrangement)

One can be certain of one thing, in this uncertain world. Colonel John Hunt, the leader of the British expedition that conquered Mount Everest, behaved precisely as the leader of such an expedition ought to behave. One can visualise him among the chilly terrors of the ultimate heights, his pale blue eyes steely with resolve, his long, solemn face stern with determination, grimly leading his party onwards for Queen and country. Indeed, one can all but hear him rallying his fellow climbers, encouraging the Nepalese porters, and giving their send-off to the chosen pair who made the last terrible ascent, in language dangerously close to parody of the improving boys’ books of 40 years ago. Wanted Crack at a Hun Hunt was not yet a hero when one of these reporters first encountered him in wartime. The place was a particularly dreamy training camp. The time was early 1943. A high proportion of the men in training later had a good war, as the British rather nastily put it. But the fashions of 1914 were not the fashions of 1943; and when John Hunt raged about the camp, furiously demanding to be “given a crack at a Hun,” it was regarded as very odd and slightly comic. Hunt got his crack at the Hun a little later, wnen he was sent to Italy to take command of a battalion of his regiment, the King’s Royal Rifle Corps. The regiment had beeri organised in this country, in the French and Indian wars; and in the time just before and after Pearl Harbour, some Americans had impulsively joined it, in a sort of hands-across-the-sea exchange of Allied enthusiasm. One of the Americans, Tom Braden, was a lieutenant in Hunt’s company. One of Hunt’s first acts in Italy was to send for Braden, for a serious private talk. Glowed With Generosity

“You’ve been looking blue, Tom,” he said, with great earnestness. “And I know why. We haven’t had a real battle yet, and you haven't had a chance to close with the enemy.. But we’ll meet the Hun soon, and I want to promise you that I’ll give your platoon the first crack at him.”

At this point, Hunt fairly glowed with generosity, adding chernly, “With luck, you should even have a chance to get at the Hun hand-to-hand.” Braden went through some of the hardest fighting with the British infantry in Italy and later volunteered to jump behind the German lines in France just before the Normandy DDay. Yet he has since admitted that he found Hunt’s little speech the least cheering, pep-talk to which he was ever exposed. It seemed to him that there were a great many Germans about, and that they were pretty close already. He was ready to do nis duty, as his record more than proved; but he could not regard hand-to-hand combat as the very nicest thing that could be promised.

In those first days in Italy, John Hunt was not popular with his battalion. The British soldiers called him “keen,” which meant the same unpleasant things as being an “eager beaver” in the American Army. The great majority of his men were veterans of the desert war, and proudly aware of their distinction. In the desert fighting, they had become accustomed to doing absolutely nothing but drink tea between engagements with the enemy. The newly arrived Hunt outraged them by insisting on correct dress at all times. And he very nearly caused an open mutiny when he ordered all officers and men to fall in at dawn every day for a nice long run. Won Military Cross Then came the small but disastrous battle of the Sangro River, where Hunt’s battalion was savagely cut up—and Hunt won the Military Cross saving large numbers of his men under fire. The battalion, being decimated, was ordered back to England. But Hunt was not going to be snatched out oi range of the Hun, once he had got W close to him; and he wangled a job * 8 second-in-command of another bat* talion, in which one of these reporters was serving without distinction. There he smote the Hun with such fierce persistency that he soon became battalion commander, and rose within a few months to the rank of brigadier. Such a man makes a lasting impre«' sion. It was natural to wonder whai had happened to him after the war, when there were no more Huns to smite. It was natural to reflect on how very out-of-place he must find himseti in the post-war world, amid the debrw of disappointed hopes, forgotten hign purposes, exploded dreams of glory, and sad worries about trade balance* AU Waa Made Plain Then came the headline and the Picture in the newspapers. They maae all plain. John Hunt had of course beejj chafing to “get a crack at Everest until he finally got his crack, and jw gave Queen Elizabeth her most pie** ing coronation present. . j You may smile at John Hunt if please, although you will be wiser W regret that Hunt’s peculiar style is no longer fashionable. _ None the less, in times, at one? so grubby with human pettiness so lurid with inhuman horrors, k ” wonderfully cheering to remember, Wj a moment, that John Hunt is suiaround and is still getting his crac» at the seemingly uncrackable.